“Who’s ratting me out as a nosy shit?” Kevin resumed eating. “I would rather say I am ‘surprise averse.’”
Lance put another piece of meat in his mouth, and then pointed the fork at Kevin. “Call it what you want, but you snoop more than a cat.”
“I don’t snoop, I’m inquisitive.”
“Bullshit! You’re nosy.”
“I’m inquiring.”
“Prying.”
“Investigative.”
“Ahhhh…” Lance looked to the ceiling, searching for another word. He raised his fork up in the air. “Intrusive.”
“Scrutinizing.”
“Look, damn you, have you been memorizing the fucking synonyms here? Meddlesome.”
“Searching.” Kevin’s smile grew larger the longer it took Lance to retort.
“Fine, I’ll give you this round. I can’t come up with anything else. But the fact remains, you can be a prying prick.”
Kevin thought back to his last, rather short-term, girlfriend. “Yes, okay. But did you have to tell her this?”
“Who said I told her?”
Kevin’s shock was complete. “Patricia ratted me out?”
Lance waved his hand at Kevin. “Hell no, of course I told her. It’s one of your better traits.”
Kevin knew he was being baited, so he kept his mouth shut.
Lance had a twinkle in his eye. “What, no asking about any other traits?”
Kevin looked like he was about to burst trying to keep his questions to himself. He heard a little buzzing sound and was surprised it was coming from Lance.
Lance put down his utensils, pulled out his phone and looked at the message. “Well my inquisitive friend, it looks like your answers are about thirty minutes away.”
“What, now?” Kevin looked down at his steak.
“No, tomorrow. Yes, thirty minutes from now. If you’re not man enough to finish that in ten minutes, I don’t know how to help.”
“But I’ve been drinking, Lance. I don’t think I’m completely sober.”
Lance stopped the fork halfway to his mouth and eyed his friend. “Trust me, the alcohol is going to evaporate immediately when you meet the boss.” He continued with his bite.
Kevin started eating a little faster. “Why, ball-buster?”
Lance replied evenly, “Let’s just say she has a knack for making an impression during the interview. Patricia still talks about their first meeting.”
Lance worked on his food; he could see Kevin’s focus turn inward. You poor bastard, Lance thought, you can’t possibly know what you need to be curious about. Lance looked down at his watch. Oh well, he’ll find out soon enough.
3
Washington D.C., USA
Donnie ‘The Don’ Roberts was reading this morning’s reports as he walked down the hallway from the break room to his corner office, when he noticed an oddity.
The CIA had requested information about an Anthony Chillenni in Chicago. Chatter had gone across the wire, referencing a code-word contact in the States, which had finally resolved to a moneyman. They had traced the contact back into the U.S. and dropped it off with his group.
His group, responsible for connecting the terrorist dots inside the U.S. with their counterparts overseas, was constantly trying to keep tabs on known and suspected terrorists and their organizations.
Anthony Chillenni had been tagged as possible financial support person just the previous week. Donnie turned around and walked back two doors, where he stuck his head in Barbara Nickers’ office. Barb was always in the office early, sometimes two hours early. Two other co-workers had almost put out an all-points bulletin once, when 7:15 AM had rolled around and Barb wasn’t in yet. She arrived ten minutes later with five boxes of Krispy Kreme donuts.
Her co-workers decided to forgive her.
“Barb?” She raised her head. “Do you have any information on Anthony Chillenni? The ‘Can’t Investigate Anything’ agency is asking for more info.”
Barb had a laptop on her desk that shared space with a keyboard and monitor. The keyboard was hardwired to a terminal and was the more secure of the two devices. It could only access information from within the building. That system was not allowed any outside connection. She cleared a couple of screens and typed in Chillenni’s name. Hitting another shortcut, she brought up a screen to show his bank transactions. “That’s funny.”
Donnie stepped into her office. His CIA acronym might have to be temporarily upgraded. “What is?”
Following another key command, a third window popped up on Barb’s screen. She put out a finger to follow the dense lines of information, stopping two-thirds down the monitor. “He was in Chicago, purchasing normally, when he seems to have fallen off the grid three days ago.” She dropped her hands back to the keyboard and typed quickly. Two windows disappeared and a new one opened. Her eyes scanned across it rapidly. “Nope, he hasn’t booked passage out on an airline.”
Now Donnie sat down in the uncomfortable chair in front of Barb’s desk. He took a sip of his coffee. The coffee was, he mused, exactly how he liked his women. Warm enough to be interesting, not so hot as to be trouble. He had enough trouble to deal with at work, he didn’t enjoy the idea of coming home to it as well.
Barb sat back, eyeing the screens in front of her. “Ok, either he’s gone all cash, is on a bender with some nose candy, or he’s dead. We have nothing on his whereabouts for the last seventy-two hours. No money, no phone calls, nada.”
Donnie considered her answer. “Well, I’m guessing somebody took out contestant number one.”
Barb looked over. “Why’s that?”
“Because his disappearance was unexpected. If the CIA is hearing enough chatter that they got a good read, it means he was expected to be in contact. But he isn’t.” Donnie stood up. “Go ahead and pull together a quick summary of your findings and I’ll share it with my contact. Also, we might as well put it out in the general knowledge database. I’m sure our foreign friends are hearing chatter about this guy. Let’s get the jump on being ‘data friendly’ for once.”
Barb nodded and got back to work. The idea of one more potential terrorist threat possibly dead only made Barb’s morning a little bit brighter.
Luton, England
Ali ‘John’ Abdullah left his friends standing outside the Halal meat market and turned down Dunstable Road. He passed by a weapons disposal bin. That was a laugh. It was a little past one in the morning and he needed to get some sleep. He had plans he needed to move forward and two cells he needed to report on as well. Then he would get on his game console and create a private chat channel to discuss the next steps that his cell would take to move their efforts along.
That was when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He slowed down. After the attacks in France a little while back, everyone had been vigilant about watching their surroundings. He walked casually down the sidewalk. There were numerous cars parked along the curb and he would occasionally look into a car’s mirrors, to see if he could spot anything.
There weren’t any vans on the street that resembled police or intelligence vehicles. He chose to cross the street at Kentworth and backtrack his route. There was no way he was heading to his apartment right now. He crossed Waldeck and then slowed down to look at his reflection in the pharmacy window. Using it to look around, he still saw nothing that would cause his senses to go off.
He had acquired his ability at great cost in Syria. He and one other were the only two survivors from a small engagement up in the hills. It had taken three days to get out. He left those hills a different man. Now, he knew to trust his instincts. Those same instincts were screaming at him that danger was near.
So very near.
He reached under his coat and pulled a small caliber pistol from a holster under his arm. His five-eleven, two-hundred-pound frame easily hid any bulges. Not that anyone would speak to the authorities in this part of Bury Park.
One more glance at his hair then he turned
and resumed walking down the street. It was time to turn the tables on his stalker.
Because, even though he didn’t see anyone, Ali Abdullah was damn sure that he had someone stalking him.
He had felt this feeling before.
Ali Abdullah circled back on Hapton and walked over to the little football field near where Hapton met Dunstable. He decided he would find a place in the trees and bushes where he could sit and wait out his tag. When he was a block away, the feeling of fear ratcheted up a few notches. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a lone man following him from the other side of Hampton. When he spotted the man, he had been looking right at Ali. Bold as brass, as if daring him to do something.
Ali felt the gun in his hand, cursing that he hadn’t brought anything bigger with him. This area, he had thought, was safe enough. The man crossed the street to follow behind him.
Ali took a right to go between two buildings, cars parked on his left and walls on his right. These were all small, narrow homes with tiny yards behind them. He walked behind their fence line and hung a left to cross over the concrete play areas, chalk lines marking where children had been earlier. He passed the little playground, rubberized pieces under the jungle gym in case any toddlers fell. He made it to the first stand of trees, the darkness becoming complete once he was under them.
He moved silently, keeping an eye out for the man who was following him.
He moved behind the last tree. It was large enough that he could hide most of his body behind the trunk. That was when the man stepped out of the little alleyway leading to the park. The man turned and looked in his direction, and then stopped as if he could see Ali easily.
That was impossible, Ali was completely in the dark. Since the man was standing under a few streetlights, his vision had to be affected.
He started walking in Ali’s direction. Ali could see him now, he looked American, maybe of Spanish descent. The man pulled his hands out of his coat, one of them came out with a pistol. It looked significantly larger than the one Ali had on him. Plus, he could see a silencer.
Dammit! Ali paused just a moment, looked toward the field again and then back at the man. Could he run across the field before the man could get off a shot? Should he try to fire his tiny .22 from behind the tree? Turning back around, he noticed a woman was walking onto the field. Damn, she was almost to the middle, coming in his direction. She had black hair, but her skin was fair. She wasn’t from around here.
Ali knew that hesitation could get you killed. He broke from his cover in the trees and sprinted towards the woman. He would grab her and put his pistol under her chin. Even if the American wouldn’t trade the hostage for Ali’s life, he would take one more down with him.
Eric Escobar, Guard to Bethany Anne, Queen of the UnknownWorld (whether they knew it or not) sighed and put his gun back in his holster and continued walking towards the trees. “Wrong choice, dickhead.”
The whimpering cries Eric could hear as he walked under the trees didn’t surprise him. Apparently, Ali ‘John’ Abdullah, a named terrorist and controller of at least one, if not more, cells here in England had just been caught in the spider’s web.
He turned through the trees to see Ali, knees on the ground holding his head as if in pain. Bethany Anne was talking to him, her voice silky smooth over steel.
Poor Ali was telling her everything she wanted to know. Eric walked up to them. He had seen Bethany Anne’s eyes glowing red from back under the trees. His new enhancements, finalized just days ago in the Pod-doc, coalesced into a body he never dreamed of having. His hearing was more acute, his eyesight beyond compare, and his bench pressing was damned impressive. Shame he couldn’t go to a muscle beach in California, he would certainly piss off the locals. He gave off a vibe now. Hell, he was the first to go through the Pod-doc. The first guard to go to the mess after being ‘upgraded.’ This meant that he was the first to experience one of the more radical effects. As he walked in practically everyone on his team was already looking at the door. It was like they were all expecting someone, or possibly something, and not in a good way.
The wariness in their eyes was replaced with relief when Eric walked into the room. He had turned to look behind him and then looked back, some of the people had still been staring at him. “What?”
He found out everyone could ‘feel’ his presence. A couple of the guardians had said it was a presence that raised the hackles on your neck. It had taken him until the next day to figure out how to turn that shit off. This evening, he had turned it back on and enjoyed the ever-loving hell out of it.
He smelled urine and wrinkled his nose. That was a new ability he wasn’t always fond of. It was wonderful if the scent was chocolate, not so great when it was urine from a terrorist who had just lost bladder control. He scanned the area. No one was looking and he didn’t see any blinds parted in the few windows that overlooked the field.
He checked his watch; they needed to hurry to make the meeting in Colorado. He turned his attention back to his boss, and the unfortunate asshole that was the reason they were in England.
Bethany Anne had gotten all of the information she could get out of this prick. Unfortunately, he was pretty low on the totem pole and didn’t know much. She considered her options for a second then shrugged. She needed to get back to Colorado so she was out of time and needed to finish this operation.
She put more steel into her voice, leaving the silk in place. “Ali Abdullah, your crimes against the innocent cast you as a wrongdoer and transgressor. Therefore, you are sentenced to commit one more sin. You, Ali Abdullah, shall stand up and count to five, and then place your pistol in your mouth and fire after I give you permission to die. Stand up, transgressor.”
Ali Abdullah, his body operating against his will, screamed in his mind, his fear so strong he was barely able to understand what was happening to him. His legs betrayed him as he stood up. This damn she-demon had watched as he ran at her. When he had raised his pistol, she smiled evilly. He had slowed down and watched with disbelief when her eyes started glowing red, and fangs grew from her mouth. Then everything had changed as she uttered her first word to him. “KNEEL!”
He hadn’t been able to get his knees on the ground fast enough.
Now, he was standing up, his pistol in his hand. She reached for him, grabbing his arm painfully and looking into his eyes, and she gave him her final command. “DIE!” Then, she pushed him a little and he ended up on what felt like a field. But he couldn’t see, it seemed like there was a heavy mist around him, no noise, nothing–it was silent. Not that it mattered, a mental timer clicked over in his head and his arm brought the pistol up to his mouth.
Now it was time to die.
Denver, CO, USA
Lance signed the dinner bill and added a twenty percent tip. The service had been outstanding. There wasn’t any reason not to share his wealth with people working hard to make sure his evening out was enjoyable.
And it had been.
Dropping his napkin on the table, he texted Bethany Anne to let her know that they were leaving.
Smiling at his old boss, Kevin told him, “It’s just difficult for me to see this new Lance Reynolds when I knew the old, gruff, cigar-chewing general for so long. You’re even texting now. I have to stop myself from asking, ‘who are you and what have you done with the real Lance Reynolds?’” His smile seemed a little forced. Lance could understand. Kevin had an honorable discharge from the service and was now going to meet his new ‘commander in chief.’
“Don’t get worried. You have the job if you want it. This isn’t an interview. Think of it more as an employee orientation.”
They walked out of the restaurant. “Does the boss fly to different towns to do this very often?”
Lance considered his question. “Well, she did it for me, for Patricia, and now for you. So, you’re the third one that I’m aware of.”
Kevin thought about that for a moment. “You brought Patricia on board, and now me. This boss lady
must trust you a lot since you keep bringing on your people for key roles. She doesn’t worry that you’re biased in favor of people you’ve worked with before?”
Lance shrugged. Taking a right out of the restaurant, Lance directed them to the corner and then turned right on 15th. They had passed Comedy Works and Kevin was surprised when Lance turned down the alley that went behind the Capital Grille. “You cheat! Don’t tell me you parked in a no-parking zone in an alley! I parked three blocks over off 17th. No wonder you got to the restaurant so fast.”
Lance took one more right and went through a space between two buildings and down six concrete steps. He stopped. “Kevin, you might be surprised how far away I was when I told you I would be here in a few minutes.”
Kevin looked around. He could smell the sickly-sweet odor of rotting food and garbage that couldn’t be more than forty feet away. “What the hell, Lance. I know I’ve pulled your leg a time or two, but if you’re punking me…” He stopped talking when Lance’s more jovial visage tightened and ‘The General’ was back in place. Kevin stood a little straighter.
“You ready to think bigger, Sergeant?” Lance’s voice brought his attention back. Here was the man he had followed for two decades. Hell, he even looked two decades younger.
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Then don’t scream like a little girl when you look up.” With that declaration, Lance Reynolds pointed a finger straight up.
Kevin looked above his head to see a large block of stars blacked out. He stepped back a few feet to see if the darkness moved. He damn near fell on his ass when he hit the stairs. He turned and took them three at a time to get back to street level. “What the hell is it?”
“That,” Lance Reynolds answered, “Is the person here to provide your employee orientation.”
Kevin looked down at Lance, his mouth agape.
Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Set One: Books 1-7, Death Becomes Her, Queen Bitch, Love Lost, Bite This, Never Forsaken, Under My Heel, Kneel or Die (Kurtherian Gambit Boxed Sets) Page 131