Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  Julie was doing a lap of the floor. The office area formed a large circle, with a bank of elevators in the middle. They already had Hyatt’s itinerary for the next few days, so they knew who to expect and when, but as an extra precaution, they took turns walking a circuit of the office floor, once every ninety minutes.

  “Goddammit…” muttered Hyatt, pulling Jericho back to the reality of the here and now.

  He looked over. “Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, there’s a goddamn problem! Ever since your so-called experts did… whatever the hell it was they did to my computer, it’s been running slowly. I can’t get anything done when this piece of crap takes ten minutes to sync with the company’s servers.”

  “Well, I’m not an expert with computers,” replied Jericho. “But I am an expert when it comes to counter-intelligence and surveillance. Nothing our Technical Support team did would slow down your system. I can promise you that.”

  Hyatt let out a heavy sigh. “It’s just going too slow…”

  There was a knock on the door. A second later, it opened, and Hyatt’s secretary walked in. Jericho watched as she strode confidently toward the desk. She wore a different outfit than the day before, but he still thought she looked nice. However, remembering Julie’s reservations from when they arrived yesterday, he found himself trying not to look, despite Julie not being there.

  “Here are the documents you requested, Mr. Hyatt,” she said, handing him a small pile of papers.

  He took them without looking up from his screen. “Thank you.”

  She turned to leave, locking eyes with Jericho as she did. Her smile was more friendly than professional. Jericho responded in kind and watched her leave. A moment later, the door to the office opened again, and Julie walked in. She saw the resigned look on Hyatt’s face and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay in here?”

  “Everything’s fine,” said Jericho. “Mr. Hyatt is frustrated by his computer’s lack of processing speed.”

  “It was fine before your team messed with it,” Hyatt mumbled generally.

  Julie cleared her throat. “Mr. Hyatt, I’m not a computer expert, but I know surveillance and counter-intelligence. Nothing our team of technicians did would impact the performance of your system. I can guarantee you that.”

  He looked up slowly from the screen and stared at her. His blank, deadpan expression spoke volumes.

  She turned to Jericho and shrugged. “What?”

  Jericho smiled. “That’s what I said. Almost word-for-word, which is pretty scary…”

  She rolled her eyes and smiled back.

  Hyatt stood and gathered some papers. “I have a meeting to get to. Tell the driver to bring the car around.”

  His tone was sharp and laced with frustration. Jericho looked over at Julie with a bemused smile. He could guess what her reaction to Hyatt would be.

  Julie frowned and let out a taut breath. “Mr. Hyatt, I’m not sure which one of us you were just speaking to, but you would do well to remember that neither one of us is your damn secretary.”

  He looked up at her, scowling at her response. “Excuse me? You would do well to—”

  “Save it,” she said, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t take your pissy little mood out on me, okay? We’re not your employees. I’m sorry your computer’s not working, but the only reason we’re here is to keep you safe. Not to summon your driver, get you a coffee, or kiss your ass. Am I clear?”

  Hyatt was on the back-foot, shocked by her outburst with no idea how to respond.

  “Well, yes. I mean, I—”

  “Good. And if you talk to me like that again, the Mexicans will be the least of your worries. Now this meeting… it’s at The Sinclair, correct?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. My client, Mr. Silva, insisted we meet in a neutral location to further discuss our business at the port.”

  “Okay then. Here’s what’s going to happen. When we arrive, you’re going to remain in the car with my colleague while I assess the location for any threats or security issues. Only when I’m one hundred percent happy with it will you join me. Clear?”

  He went to speak again but stopped, settling for a silent, compliant nod.

  “Good,” she said before looking at Jericho. “You set?”

  Jericho got to his feet, straightened his suit, and joined her by the door. “As if I’m going to say ‘no’ after that?”

  He stepped out of the office and to the side, waiting for Hyatt to follow. A moment later, he appeared, briefcase in hand, his shoulders slumped and a sad expression on his face. Jericho kept pace alongside him as they headed for the lifts, while Julie stayed two steps behind them, a wry smile on her lips.

  8.

  The Sinclair was the in-house restaurant of a luxurious five-star hotel in downtown Montreal. It looked unassuming from the outside—a tall, plain building situated halfway along a cobbled backstreet behind an office block. Yet, inside told a different story. Wall-to-wall opulence attracted the highest standard of clientele, regularly including Ulysses Hyatt.

  The limousine pulled to a stop in front of the entrance—two large glass doors with the name of the hotel emblazoned across them in gold lettering. A concierge stood to attention beside them.

  Julie stepped out first and held the door almost closed as she scanned up and down the street. It took a full minute for her to convince herself there were no threats. She shuffled aside and opened the door, allowing Hyatt to finally join her. He nodded to her courteously, refraining from voicing any frustrations.

  Jericho climbed out the other side and walked around, mimicking Julie’s routine to satisfy his own professional paranoia before bringing up the rear as the three of them filed inside the hotel. They moved efficiently across the lobby toward the restaurant entrance on the right, opposite the front desk.

  They were greeted by a head waiter, who smiled at Hyatt as they approached.

  “Monsieur Hyatt, welcome back,” he said, extending his hand. “We have prepared your usual table.”

  Hyatt shook his hand courteously and nodded a greeting. “Thank you, Pierre. Has Mr. Silva arrived yet?”

  “Not yet, sir. Would you prefer to wait in the bar area for him?”

  “No, thank you. We’ll take our seats…” He trailed off, glancing apprehensively at Julie. “If that’s okay?”

  She’s trained him well, thought Jericho, trying to suppress a smile.

  Julie gave Hyatt an appreciative nod. “Just give me a sec.”

  She moved past Pierre and stepped into the restaurant. It was a large, square room, flooded with natural light from the windows that ran the full height of the right-hand wall, offering a view of the street outside. She frowned, thinking how easy it would be for someone to drive past and take Hyatt out.

  The doors leading in from the lobby were central on the near wall. As the room opened out in front of her, a long, vertical counter divided the space a third of the way along. It looked to be for serving buffet food. The rest of the room made ample use of the space, with minimal seating in favor of more privacy for diners.

  In the far-left corner, she saw doors leading into the kitchen, which she noted would need checking.

  She sighed. It wasn’t where she would have chosen to meet Hyatt’s client had she been asked her opinion, but she could make it work. She stepped back out into the lobby.

  “It’s clear,” she announced before looking at Hyatt. “I’ll do a sweep of the kitchen area while Jericho sees you to your table—which…” She turned to the head waiter. “…I must insist is as far away from the windows as possible.”

  He flashed a questioning glance at Hyatt, who answered with a silent, almost imperceptible nod. Then he smiled at Julie. “But of course. Mr. Hyatt’s usual table is our most private. If you would follow me, please.”

  He led the three of them inside, Hyatt sandwiched between Julie and Jericho, and over to a table positioned against the far wall. It was flanked by two large indoor plants,
level with the kitchen entrance, and far enough away from other tables that any conversation was unlikely to be overheard.

  As Julie disappeared into the kitchen, Jericho guided Hyatt to the seat facing the large windows. Should any potential threats approach the hotel, Hyatt would recognize them quicker than Jericho could assess them, so seeing his reaction could save valuable seconds.

  Hyatt ordered a glass of iced water. When Pierre left, he took some papers from his briefcase and began reading. Jericho stepped away to a respectful distance and stood ready, his hands clasped in front of him, his eyes constantly scanning both the room and the street outside. After a couple of minutes, he placed a finger discreetly to his ear, activating his comms unit.

  “How’s it looking in there, Jules?” he asked quietly.

  There was a momentary hiss of static before she answered. “Yeah, it’s clear. No external entry points. Minimal staff. Heading to you now. Any sign of the client?”

  “Nothing yet. I just—hang on… this might be him now.”

  Jericho watched as a well-dressed man in a fitted blue suit approached the head waiter’s lectern in the lobby, followed by a single bodyguard. He saw the brief, muted conversation between them before the new arrival looked inside the restaurant, locking eyes with him before spotting Hyatt.

  “Yeah, he’s here now,” whispered Jericho.

  Julie appeared a moment later, walking past him and moving to the opposite side of Hyatt’s table as Darius Silva approached, having left his own security guard in the lobby. He was a handsome man, oozing natural charisma. His subtle, styled hair and his well-groomed stubble simply added to his charm. He was also a known criminal and wasn’t ashamed to admit it, should anyone ask. His fortune came from importing and exporting narcotics, and his influence stretched almost the full length of the east coast, branching out as far as Nova Scotia. He had a minor operation just south of the border, in Vermont, but crossing into the United States was risky, and the venture was still very much in its infancy.

  He ignored both Julie and Jericho, simply smiling at Hyatt as if they weren’t there.

  “How are you, Ulysses?” he asked as he took a seat opposite him.

  “I’m good, thank you. And you?”

  Silva nodded. “I am very well. Business is good, but tension is mounting. Tell me, are we all set for tomorrow?”

  “We are,” confirmed Hyatt. “The cargo ship is due to dock around four p.m. It will depart again at nine-thirty.”

  “Excellent. I have arranged for my private jet to fly us there. We should arrive a little after five, which allows us plenty of time to finalize things.”

  “Of course.” Hyatt looked past Silva momentarily, trying to catch Julie’s eye. He did and gestured her over with a subtle nod. “Miss Fisher, I would like to introduce you to my client, Darius Silva. Darius, this is Julie Fisher, head of my security detail from GlobaTech Industries.”

  Head of security, scoffed Jericho silently. Since when?

  Silva grinned, his dark eyes sparking with life as he brazenly admired Julie from head to toe. He stood and extended his hand.

  “It is a pleasure, Miss Fisher.” He paused to kiss the back of her hand as she shook it. “I have never seen security look so… dazzling.”

  Oh, please… thought Jericho, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

  Julie smiled politely and took a step back as Silva took his seat once more.

  “Good to meet you, sir,” she replied professionally. She turned to Hyatt. “Is everything okay?”

  He nodded. “Yes. I just wanted to make you aware that we’ll be travelling to Halifax tomorrow afternoon aboard Mr. Silva’s jet. In case you needed to make any preparations.”

  Julie raised a slight eyebrow and glanced over at Jericho. He responded with a gentle shake of his head. She turned back to Hyatt. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”

  “May I ask why?” said Silva smoothly as he shifted in his seat and leaned on the table, looking up at her.

  She shrugged. “You can ask…”

  His expression hardened. The charm left his eyes, reducing their spark to an impatient glimmer. He went to speak again, but Hyatt held out a hand, silently asking him not to react.

  “Miss Fisher,” Hyatt began. “We can work with you to address any concerns, but I’m afraid we must—”

  “Uh-uh. We mustn’t do anything,” she replied. “I understand you have work to do, but you will have to make alternative travel arrangements. I’m not putting you on a private plane that we have no control over. There are too many risks involved. Too many X-factors.”

  Silva’s expression had softened again. His politician’s smile had returned, and the charisma was oozing from him as if controlled by a faucet.

  “Miss Fisher, if I may? I am happy to allow GlobaTech Industries to provide a pilot, if that helps?” He got to his feet again, holding her gaze as he smiled. “I appreciate my business and my reputation may be of no concern to you, but you need to understand that both are of great concern to me… and to Mr. Hyatt. We both need to be at the Port of Halifax tomorrow afternoon. It is too long a journey by any other means.”

  Jericho moved over to the table, stopping beside Julie. Silva’s attention was drawn to him. He stared first at the fifty-inch chest. His smile faded as he lifted his head to look him in the eye.

  Jericho narrowed his gaze as he locked eyes with Silva.

  “Our concern,” he began, “is Mr. Hyatt. That’s it. We don’t much care about anything, or anyone else. Though it’s worth mentioning that not too long ago, I was being shot at by members of a Mexican cartel as I tried to rescue our client’s daughter, who was kidnapped by people who did care a great deal about your business.”

  Silva took a small step back. “And you have my sincerest apologies, as does my friend, Ulysses. That was unfortunate.”

  “Just a little, yeah.”

  Jericho instinctively flexed his shoulders, the sudden tension triggering his own defense mechanisms.

  Silva, whether it was to his credit or his detriment, didn’t flinch.

  “I have the utmost respect for what you people are doing over at GlobaTech. I do. You’re helping to shape a brave new world for everyone. But do not forget your place. You’re a security guard. Nothing more. Do you think your size impresses me? I am a very powerful man, Mr…”

  “Jericho.”

  “…Mr. Jericho, and I am not easily intimidated. It is in everybody’s interest that we work together here. I need Ulysses to make sure my business transaction goes off without a hitch. In turn, you want to keep him safe. I have extended an olive branch to you, which I suggest you take. Otherwise, my friend will find himself in the market for a new security detail.”

  Julie stepped in front of Jericho the second Silva stopped talking. With last night’s bar fight still fresh in her mind, she had no wish to jeopardize their work because Jericho had broken someone in half.

  She cleared her throat and smiled. “Mr. Silva, speaking as the only woman here, I can say with complete confidence that there is far too much testosterone flying around right now. I think we should all just take a breath, don’t you?” She glanced over her shoulder at Jericho, gesturing with her head for him to step away, which he did, albeit reluctantly. She turned back to Silva. “Now I suggest you sit down, order your food, and have your meeting with our client.”

  After a moment, Silva took his seat, composing himself as he took his napkin and laid it across his lap.

  “Will you join us?” he asked Julie.

  She smiled politely. “You have things to discuss. And I have a job to do. I need to be ready should anyone storm in this hotel and try to kill you both.”

  Before he could reply, she moved around the table and stood a respectful distance away, as Jericho was opposite. They exchanged a small smile as Silva and Hyatt ordered their food.

  This is going to be a long couple of days, thought Julie.

  9.

  Three thousand mil
es away, Moses Buchanan stood resting against his desk, watching a live feed being streamed from a helmet cam on the monitor opposite. The helmet belonged to a unit commander who was leading a team of GlobaTech military personnel on a U.N. peacekeeping mission in Cambodia.

  Two days ago, members of the Royal Thai Armed Forces were conducting routine checks along the border just north of Krong Poi Pet. A truck driver refused to present his paperwork and, when pressed, opened fire, killing two Thai soldiers. The truck was pursued back across the border into Cambodia, where it was picked up after a few miles. The driver was taken into custody but was uncooperative with the Thai authorities.

  The goods he was transporting were traced back to a factory in Phnom Penh, owned by a shell corporation. Official documentation on the company was yet to be located. At first glance, the cargo seemed harmless, but further investigation determined they were key components of a prototype explosive device.

  The United States government was reluctant to get involved, due to their fragile relationship with Cambodia, but the concern over a new weapon and a potential attack could not be ignored. And so, the call was made to GlobaTech, who were able to send their own forces to investigate in an official, neutral capacity on behalf of the United Nations. Due to the sensitive nature of the mission, Buchanan was personally overseeing it.