Smoke Reactivated

by Cherry Laska

  He slowly set his glass down. He gave her a nod acknowledging she still could read him and she’d interpreted the situation accurately. “I’m leading a special team for the agency.”

  “The agency? You mean the CIA?”

  “Yes. My team deals with high-level threats—globally.There’s a credible threat of a chemical attack from a group with a connection to Iran. I want you to join my team to help find and stop these guys.”

  Jessica laughed. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m completely serious.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. “What? That’s so out of the blue. That’s crazy. I’ve been out of that world for a really long time. Why me? I’m a stay-at-home mom.”

  “I wouldn’t ever doubt your skills, and you shouldn’t either. They’re a part of you. Ingrained down to your core and will be there whenever you need them. To answer your question why you, because of your skills and your intuition. They fit this operation and round out my team. You, because I need someone I can trust. You, because I know we work well together, and you can operate on a team where normal rules don’t apply.”

  “Okay, but I’m not CIA. I’m not even on active duty anymore. Should you even be telling me this?”

  “It’s been cleared. Plus,” Joe’s lips curled into a sly smile, “you aren’t technically a civilian.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jess, they’ve kept files on all of us. Anyone who was a part of Grey Winds is not, nor ever will be, really out. If it’s deemed necessary, they won’t hesitate to re-call us.” Joe could read from her expression that she hadn’t had any idea about this.

  Her mind was reeling. She stood up and went to the rail. She was stunned that the government had actually been keeping an eye on her. Although when she considered it, what the unit members knew, had seen and done, it made sense the founders and people in power would want to keep control of their assets. They had been part of an elite, highly secret force designated as Grey Winds. Their design was similar to the Military Assistance Command, Vietnam—Studies and Observations Group (known as MACV-SOG or SOG) in the way that it’s comprised of a cross section of the military’s Special Forces soldiers—SEALS, Delta Team Operators, Green Berets, Recon Marines, and some badass Para Troopers—representing all the branches of service operating under a joint command. SOG was a highly classified, multi-service special operations unit that conducted covert, unconventional warfare operations prior to and during the Vietnam War. Grey Winds was completely off the books and operated outside the normal military chain of command. The only people who’d known about the unit’s existence were those in the small group at the highest level of government along with the two generals who’d risked their positions and freedom to create the unit. These upper echelon patriots believed a military unit like this was necessary to protect America’s interests from an enemy that didn’t play by the rules. The soldiers assigned to Grey Winds were all extremely proud to be serving their country.

  Jessica thought back to when Joe arrived at Grey Winds. She’d been dating Max Walker for a couple of months. After a rocky/Rocky start with a fight in a club outside of Fort Bragg, North Carolina, she, Max, and Joe had become best friends. Of course, members of any unit that go through battle together become incredibly tight. Grey Winds were loyal, had each other’s back, and also teased each other brutally. She loved all the guys in her unit, but she, Max, and Joe had an especially close friendship. It was an extremely satisfying, happy time in her life. Everything was great until the horrifying end. What had happened on their mission in Argentina had been too much for her to deal with.

  In the distance, Jessica could see a man and a woman walking down the beach with a young boy. They were holding his hands and every few steps, they swung him up in the air. The precious sight made Jessica think of when her kids were little. There was no way she could do what Joe was asking. She turned back to face him.

  “Joe, you will always have a very special place in my heart—”

  He sighed. “Don’t say but.”

  “But I just can’t. I wish I could help you, but I have to put my family first.” Joe didn’t say anything. He narrowed his eyes and looked at her. She went back to her spot on the couch and took his hand. The comforting feel and warmth surprised her. “I’m sorry. I really have to think about what’s best for my children. What would they do if something happened to me? I just can’t risk it.”

  Joe wanted Jessica on his team. He was convinced this would be a good thing for many reasons. He couldn’t give up without a fight. “How much time do we have?”

  “My sons are at dinner with their team.They’ll be home about nine or so. My husband is away on business and won’t be here.” For some reason she felt embarrassed about that. She was still angry Anderson had broken another promise to the boys. That morning when she’d found him packing suits instead of shorts and jeans for the wrestling tournament, they’d fought. Despite knowing not to expect anything better from her distant husband, she’d been upset on her sons’ behalf. When Anderson had reacted incredulously, she told him off, and things went from bad to worse.

  “Good. That gives us a while. As a favor for me, let me brief you and give you a few files to read. Then sleep on it. Don’t make your decision tonight.” He added, “Please. I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.”

  Jessica stared into his eyes, which were all business now. He’d saved her life, and she felt she owed it to him to at least hear him out. She let out a sigh, and Joe knew he had a shot. She remained silent, contemplating what to do while she got up and lit the candles in the hurricane lanterns. He waited patiently, just watching her.

  She sat back down, topped off their glasses, and took a sip of her wine. She finally said, “All right. I’ll listen and look over the files, but only because of our friendship. What’s the intel?”

  Joe spent the next hour and a half filling Jessica in and trying to convince her to join his team. When he finished, he said, “I’ll be with you every minute. I promise, I won’t let anything happen to you.” She forced a smile.

  “There’s no real way you can promise that. Just because you want to keep someone from getting hurt doesn’t mean you can.”

  Seeing the pained look on his face, she knew he was thinking about Argentina … and Max. She felt bad for causing Joe pain and almost regretted having said it, but she had to. The stakes were too high.

  “My gut is telling me you’re crucial to the success of this op. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to say yes.” Joe added in a low tone with a pleading look, “Smoke, I need you.”

  “Ha! I haven’t been referred by my call sign in two decades. Flattering me and trying to look helpless, huh RO-me-o? You’re pulling out all the stops.”

  He smiled, flashing his perfect, ultra-white teeth, showing his dimples.

  “I wouldn’t smile like that if I were you. Your chances of me changing my mind are slim to none.”

  Joe kept on smiling.

  6

  JESSICA HAD NEVER LOVED RUNNING, so as much as she tried to work out and eat right, she ended up skipping her workouts whenever she got a little too busy. When Joe had hugged her goodbye and she’d felt how hard his muscles were, she’d come to the realization she was starting to let herself slip. She maintained her weight around a hundred twenty-five pounds, which wasn’t bad, but she wasn’t “in shape.” She knew her muscle definition and cardio endurance weren’t anything to brag about. Regardless of her decision about joining Joe’s team, she vowed to step-up her workout routine and clean up her diet starting right then. She wouldn’t wait until she was home or for the Monday that never came. She got dressed, laced up her shoes, and headed down to the beach.

  After a painful forty minutes, she climbed up the stairs to the deck with quivering legs and her lungs on fire. Despite the pain, it felt great to get some exercise. She slid the door open and was happy to see her boys on the couch. They looked up at her.

  “Way to
go, Mom,” her oldest son, Trevor, said.

  “Proud of you,” Chase added, and took a bite of a banana.

  Jessica could feel the sweat rolling down her back. Still panting heavily, she gave them a thumbs-up and headed to the kitchen for water. She downed one glassful and then a second before returning to the family room. She flopped in the recliner. Her boys were watching a stupid-humor movie. It was exactly what she needed. She kicked off her shoes, leaned the chair back and watched the rest of the movie without really seeing it.

  Her mind was all over the place. She sent a text to check in with Bridgette. Jessica’s youngest was the typical fifteen-year-old girl who was busy with school, sports, extra-curricular activities, and her social life. Bridgette had been more than fine with not coming to the family’s beach house for the weekend. She had a lacrosse game and plans with friends, so she’d made arrangements to stay with her “Aunt” Lacey.

  Lacey was actually Jessica’s cousin; they’d always been more like sisters growing up together in Saratoga Springs, New York. Jessica thought how grateful she was to have Lacey in her life. Jessica’s husband was never around, and Lacey’s recent ex-husband was unable to do anything right, so they helped each other cover their responsibilities and supported each other emotionally. The two were close and had a lot in common. They even looked alike with the same build, same dark coloring, and even the same color hazel eyes. Everyone should have a Lacey, Jessica thought.

  Jessica’s mind turned to her husband. Her marriage hadn’t been good for a long time. They were co-existing instead of living like a happy couple. The great Anderson Whitley, successful CEO of Whitley Global Investments, thrived on traveling, wining and dining clients, and running his company. His priority was his business, not his family. He had been missing more and more of the kids’ events. She fumed thinking he was always elsewhere. He’s such an ass. How could he miss this time with them? She realized she was clenching her teeth.

  Her mind turned to Joe and everything he’d told her. There was a part of her that was excited by the possibility of challenging herself and being a valued part of something again. She smiled, lost in her memories of some of the great times she, Joe, and Max had shared.

  The music for The Tonight Show snapped her back to the present. Of course she would like to go to work for Joe, to use her abilities to help his team, but unlike her jackass of a husband, her priority was being there for Trevor, Chase, and Bridgette. “I’m going to read in bed for a while,” Jessica said, trying to ignore her aching leg muscles as she got out of the chair. “Night, guys. Don’t stay up too late.”

  “I’m going to bed too,” Trevor said, standing up. Jessica intercepted him and grabbed a hug. He towered over her. “Love you. Let go, please,” he said flatly.

  “Jeez. Love you too. I have to snag hugs when I caaaa…” She didn’t get a chance to finish what she was saying. He had her up in the air over his shoulder. She squealed and laughed. He put her down, then patted her head as he walked away laughing.

  Jessica climbed into bed and powered up the iPad Joe had left her. He’d explained the encryption and secure features. She selected the app that looked like a personal journal and entered her new user ID and passcode. The screen went dark then lit up with a whole new display of special files. Reading through them, it was clear the intel compiled by the CIA analysts was solid. They referenced numerous entries of intercepted chatter mentioning a chemical attack, the Iranian and U.S. governments being to blame for all the bloodshed, Allah’s will, MEK, and more, making it a credible, serious threat. The files also contained evidence implicating unsanctioned CIA actions trying to influence the presidential election as a contributing factor to setting this whole thing in motion. Jessica felt sick. A chemical attack in the U.S. and the horrific deaths it would cause would be devastating. And if the information about the U.S. interfering in Iranian politics got out, whether the CIA operatives responsible were acting on their own or not, the result would be a political shit storm and numerous international problems.

  Joe knew Jessica well, and he’d cleverly included several files on the CIA fleet of aircraft to tempt her. He was right. She missed flying bigger planes. She’d graduated from college with honors with her license and ratings, which never expired. She’d also graduated from Army flight school at the top of her class, and had flown thousands of hours in various aircraft on Grey Winds’ missions. Since then, she’d flown in small rental planes and helicopters a couple of times a year for a little fun and enough to meet her requirements to keep her pilot’s license and ratings current. She’d also gotten to sit at the controls of WGI’s Gulfstream G650 at altitude a few times when Anderson wasn’t flying with her, but it’d mostly been on autopilot. Anderson didn’t approve of any of it. He thought renting aircraft was dangerous and a waste of time. Her sitting up front with the corporate pilots made him even more angry. He said it sent the wrong message and encouraged inappropriate familiarity.

  Even though she knew she wasn’t going to join Joe’s team, Jessica let her mind explore the possibility. Could I still operate in that world? Do I still have the skills? How would it work? She’d have to coordinate coverage for the kids’ schedules, and she’d have to make a lot of excuses. Even though he was rarely present, Anderson wouldn’t like her being away from the house and the kids. As much as she felt the call of duty and felt the pull to help Joe, she felt her commitment to her family more. It just wouldn’t work. She yawned. She put down the iPad and was snuggling in when the secure encrypted cell phone Joe replaced her phone with buzzed. She grabbed it and saw a text from Joe.

  Say yes. I need you with me on this. Call me tomorrow but remember, only on this phone. Whatever you decide, it was great to see you. Talk to you tomorrow. Good night, Smoke.

  7

  PARIS, FRANCE

  REZA’S MUSCLES WERE TENSED. his heart rate was elevated and he fought to calm himself. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Every step down Sente des Dorées brought him closer to putting his plan in action. All those who shared blame for his suffering would soon know their own suffering.

  As he waited for a little blue car to clear the intersection, he scanned the area for any signs of trouble. He marked a group of muscular men at an outdoor bar. They were drinking beer, laughing, and arguing over the televised football game. They were vulgar, but not a threat. Reza crossed to the Place de la Fontaine Aux Lions, glancing at a slender, blond woman sitting on a bench rocking the stroller in front of her. He stiffened seeing two men moving quickly across the stones. He relaxed when they disappeared down the Metro stairs.

  Most of the sneakered, fanny pack-wearing tourists had headed back to their hotels to get ready for dinner. Only a few vacationers remained, posing in front of the spitting lions. The plaza would get noisy and very crowded when the concertgoers arrived in about thirty minutes, making this an ideal meeting place. Reza approached the hostess stand at the Café de la Musique.

  “Table for two, outside. That one in the corner,” he said, pointing. “Please,” he added awkwardly. He had to get a hold of himself. He followed the bubbly young hostess. He pulled the leather strap of his bag over his head and sat down with his back against the wall of the café. He tucked the bag at his feet, out of the way. Reza casually leaned forward to let the umbrella’s shadow envelop him, making it more difficult for passers-by to see his features. He was dressed in jeans, a snug t-shirt, a light jacket, and a scarf. He had sticky gel in his hair. Dark sunglasses hid his black eyes. His appearance disgusted him, but everything had been chosen for him to blend in. A waitress set a basket of bread in front of him and asked what he wanted to drink.

  “Je vais prendre un verre de vin blanc de la maison, s’il vous plaît.”

  The waitress looked directly at Reza and smiled in a way that made him uncomfortable and angry. He hid his feelings and looked down at the menu. She lingered for a moment before heading off to the bar. Muslims didn’t drink alcohol or fraternize with women, but Reza would do w
hatever was necessary to remain inconspicuous. The Koran permitted lying about being Muslim to fight the enemy. Not drinking wine on a beautiful spring evening in Paris or not flirting casually are things a waitress would remember.

  Ten minutes later, the man Reza was waiting for waddled up to the table and plopped down in the empty seat across from him. “B-Bonsoir, mons-sieur.”

  “Bonsoir,” Reza said, then waited while the waitress delivered his glass of white wine and took his companion’s order. When she’d moved out of earshot, he said, “The night is fine.”

  “M-mighty f-fine.” His contact from France’s largest chemical company gave the pre-arranged answer, indicating it was safe to proceed. The man’s speech disorder was exacerbated by his nervousness. He was sweating profusely and spitting as he spoke. All of it made Reza want to conclude their business as quickly as possible.

  “Are you prepared?”

  “Oui. We are all r-ready. The package will be de-de-delivered as planned, as s-soon as the m-money is received.”

  Reza picked up his phone and pressed a few buttons. “Check your account. Forty percent has been deposited. You will get the rest when I get my package.”

  The man wiped his forehead with his napkin before picking up his own phone. After a few moments of pushing buttons, he smiled. “Très b-bon.”

  Removing his glasses, Reza leaned forward to let the man see his face. The cold, implacable look in his eyes terrified the weak man. “Make no mistake. If I don’t get exactly what I am paying for, my group will find Suarez, and I will personally come for you.”

  The heavy-set man choked on his bread, drawing looks from the people dining nearby. “There w-will be n-no n-need. Everything is s-set. Suarez kn-n-ows you p-paid and to g-go ahead.”

  Reza caught unusual movement out of the corner of his eye. Three men were moving in fast from the right. He saw their bright orange armbands. The French plainclothes police had discovered them. Reza grabbed his bag and looked to his left. The woman from the bench had abandoned her stroller. She now wore a matching orange band and was coming in his direction. Reza was on the move toward the garage where he’d parked a motorcycle a few days earlier. This path was blocked by two of the policemen. Reza smoothly changed course toward the Metro. He’d take his chance getting by the woman. He was forty steps closer to the stairs as he caught sight of the fat man, still seated, holding his bread, and looking stunned. The capture of the chemical executive did not matter. Monsieur Moreau didn’t know enough to make a difference. He could be sacrificed. Moreau had served his purpose. Things were in motion.