Infiltrator

by Bob Blink

  "Girlfriends or mistress?" Ed asked hopefully.

  Janet shook her head.

  "His wife of some thirty years died last year after a long illness. There is nothing I could find that suggests he has developed any new romantic interests."

  "Hobbies, sports?" Mark asked.

  "He loves golf. Goes out early three times a week to play before going to work," Janet replied.

  "No good," Jessie said. "Far too public, and if we grabbed him people would know something was amiss when he didn't show up at work, even if we could work out a way to get him away unseen."

  "He's a bit of a workaholic," Janet said. "The only other regular thing he does his play cards once a week."

  "A gambler," Glen said. "What, a private high stakes poker game?"

  "Actually, I think its Pinochle," Janet replied.

  "Pinochle?" Mark asked, totally surprised by the answer.

  Janet grinned, knowing her answer had caught all of them by surprise.

  "His mother and a couple of her friends," Janet finally answered. "She lives in a retirement home, and he makes a point of visiting every week. The reports say they play cards, something his mom was apparently addicted to all her life. I don't know if the reports are just PR, but his going is an established routine. It's one possibility when he might be approachable."

  "After his visit, you mean?" Jessie said.

  Janet nodded.

  "What about his bodyguard?" Mark asked.

  "We'll have to assume he'll be with him, and take him at the same time," Ed replied.

  "Kidnap him as well?" Glen asked.

  "If we don't, word will soon get out that something has happened to the Senator," Janet pointed out. "If that's something we want to try to avoid, we'll need to plan on taking both down quietly."

  "What if the bodyguard is expected somewhere?" Mitch asked. "You said that the Senator lives alone, but we don't know about this Secret Service guy."

  "It's getting complicated," Jessie said. "We'll need to know a lot more to decide if this can work."

  "It's the best opportunity," Janet argued. "It would get him at night, and give us ten, maybe twelve hours before he'd be missed. That would be our best bet of hiding the fact he'd been taken."

  "And if he doesn't agree before the time limit is up," Steph asked.

  "What about the clinic where we want to do the scans?" Mark asked. "I don't know how late that is open?"

  Ed held up a hand. "Let's see what other opportunities there might be."

  Another hour of talking through what Janet was able to find on the Internet and they knew this was their best bet. Had they the time and opportunity to follow the man for a week or so and learn his habits, something else might turn up, but they didn't have that luxury.

  "When does he make this trip to the retirement home?" Ed asked finally.

  "The day after tomorrow," Janet said. "Every week."

  "Okay then, let's see if we can find a way to make this work."

  Chapter 34

  Mark checked his watch as he crossed the semi-dark street toward the nightclub. He was pleased to see the time was about right, and if things went as he hoped, Ed and his team would be able to put their part of the plan into operation as planned. The club, one of the "in" places for the city, was located in a semi-industrial area of town. There were multiple small shops, a couple of small scale manufacturing facilities, and the old warehouse that had been converted into the very profitable nightspot.

  The pounding beat emanating from the building across the street, identified by the flashing letter signs with the name of the place and the colorful neon figures of a pair of dancers that sat above the entrance, wouldn't disturb any of those other businesses. They had closed hours ago, and other than a small liquor store halfway down the block, nothing other than the club was open, contributing an eerie aura that felt mildly uncomfortable. Cars were parked along the street and in the parking lots of those other businesses, filling every space so that latecomers had to park as far as two blocks away.

  He worried that multiple pairs of eyes might be watching him, and he couldn't help but confirm the butt of the Kimber with his elbow, just to be sure. The concealed weapon was illegal now given his current status as a fugitive, but like any other criminal, such laws didn't affect his actions. The odds were very high that he might need to use it tonight, if only to ensure his freedom. He'd thought Steph's idea that the aliens might be able to track them somehow through the modification in their brains a bit farfetched when she'd brought it up, but now here, in the city again, on this darkened street, he couldn't quite shake the idea that something knew where he was and was simply waiting for the proper moment to strike. His eyes scanned the club's patrons, half expecting to see someone with one of the strange weapons pointed his way.

  The girls were already inside the club. Tammy and two of her non-work friends had gone inside ten minutes earlier. Glen and Steph had trailed them from her home all the way to the entrance, and communicated the fact over the secure net they were speaking on. Mitch had known that Tammy always went out clubbing on Friday nights as a way of pushing aside the stresses of a difficult workweek. She'd told him as much during one of their lunch conversations when the world was a different place for Mark. He hadn't known which clubs she liked, or whether she still would be visiting the same ones she had when they'd discussed the habit, so they had to place a tail on her. They had a Plan B in case her habits had changed, but fortunately they hadn't needed to implement it.

  Mitch had been dropped at the end of the street, and Jessie was now standing by in her car three blocks up the street, ready to race up and pick him up if things became dicey. Glen and Steph were nearby, waiting in the darkened parked car, watching for any sign anyone might have discovered they were here. If someone could monitor their presence, they'd be aware that the four of them were all clustered in this area.

  The overly loud music assaulted Mark's ears as he paid his ten dollars admission, something the women weren't required to do. Practical equality, he thought as he stepped past the loudspeakers into the semi-darkness of the inside of the club. The music inside was actually more tolerable than it had been just outside, although he wondered how he'd be able to talk when the time came. Multicolored strobes flashed in time to the music, and the swirling mass of bodies looked almost alive as he made his way to the bar. Mark had little concern about being identified in here. The light was too dim, and the colored strobes made everyone look a bit ghoulish. Dressed like everyone else, he was just another club goer, looking to score.

  He settled into an open seat at the bar, and ordered a drink from the bartender, then turned and scanned the room, not unlike half a dozen other guys who were assessing the playing field. He was starting to think he was going to have to circulate in order to spot her, when movement at a table at his three o'clock caught his eye. The guys were already trying their luck, three eager, similarly dressed males talking to the women. Tammy shook her head, clearly disappointing the guy hitting on her. Mark could see the change in the guy's body language from where he sat. Her friends reacted differently, and nodded 'yes' to the guys eagerly hoping to escort them to the dance floor. Within a few seconds they were consumed by the swirling mass of humanity crammed on the undersized patch of real-estate set aside for the dancers.

  Mark waited and watched, as he sipped the watered down drink. He could see Tammy was looking toward the dancers, but sensed she wasn't really watching. She clearly had something on her mind. It was time for him to move, but the music was going to be a problem. He doubted he would be able to communicate without shouting out what he needed to talk about. He waited and watched. Then the band switched to a slower, more tolerable level song. Mark stood and moved toward his former co-workers table. He'd seen nothing to suggest she was being watched, although he admitted to himself he doubted he would know in this environment. He clicked his mic three times to indicate he was moving.

  Tammy didn't sense him coming, and he slip
ped onto one of the empty seats her friends had vacated.

  "I'm sorry, that seat is taken," Tammy said as she started to turn her head. It took her only a few seconds to recognize him. He hoped others would be slower. "Oh my god! Mark?"

  Even in the garish lighting she was stunning. More so than he remembered. She'd always been on of the nicest people he'd ever known, and while he'd realized she was attractive, now he saw what he hadn't paid real attention to. She'd shed the coat that was needed in the cold weather outside, hanging it over the chair where she sat. Underneath she wore some kind of peasant blouse, off the shoulders. An impressive display of cleavage accented her natural charms, the flesh looking smooth and inviting. Two inches of bared midriff also caught his eye, the stomach flat and the waist narrow. Dark hair, the exact color indeterminate in this lighting, but a dark brown-black he knew, curled and flowed almost to her middle back. All of this set off by flashing dark eyes and a petite and alluring face. For a moment he realized that Fred had been right. He'd been stupid to pass on the clear come-ons that Tammy had sent his way over the past year. He felt a strong flash of lust, and then guilt. Although he and Jessie had never followed up on the night in the motel, he thought there might be something waiting to be pursued there, and the momentary desire that Tammy had evoked in him made him felt unfaithful.

  "Hi, Tammy," he managed, keeping his voice neutral, but friendly.

  He watched to see if she glanced around as if looking for support, which would indicate this was a setup, but her eyes remained on him.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice clear to him but lost to anyone more than a couple of feet away. "Are you trying to get me in trouble again? They were so angry that I talked to Fred last time. I know they are watching my house, hoping you'll show up. They might even be here somewhere. I'm supposed to let them know if you made any kind of contact."

  "Sorry," was all Mark could say, yet he knew he was burning bridges here. He was using Tammy again, and she'd know it later. Sadly, he had little choice.

  "Tell them in the morning," he suggested.

  "What's happened to you?" Tammy asked. "You have thrown away your job, your life. Why?"

  "It wasn't planned, and none of this is what it seems, but it would take too long to explain. Maybe some day I'll have the chance, but for now I need some help."

  "So that's why you're here. You need something."

  Her eyes flashed with annoyance. Even after everything, she'd hoped he'd come to see her.

  "No, I can't help you. You are using me. I'm not getting into more trouble to help you."

  She looked sad as she spoke, but also determined.

  Mark continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I need you to contact Fred for me. Use some kind of work excuse to contact him. Then, during the conversation work in that you're going to meet a guy in an hour at a bar. Tell Fred he'd like the guy. He's a space alien believer just like him. Fred's smart. He'll make the connection and know I want to see him and where."

  Tammy was shaking her head.

  "Tammy, you're the only way I can get to him. I know he's being monitored. I'll owe you again, and maybe I'll be able to make this all right later."

  Mark looked up and spotted her friends returning. It was time to go.

  "Take care of yourself," he said, and quickly stood and vanished into the crowd.

  Tammy would call someone. It didn't matter if it was the Feds or Fred. Either way the word would get passed that he was going to be at the bar in an hour. They'd have to scramble to try to get there, but they'd be focused on the opportunity to grab him.

  He stepped out of the claustrophobic atmosphere of the bar into the cold night air. Step one completed. He was only a hundred yards down the street when Jessie pulled up alongside and he climbed into the car. Glen and Steph should already be heading toward the second location.

  "How'd it go?" Jessie asked as they drove away from the area

  "I hope she turns me in," Mark said sadly. "She's right, I'm using her, and she doesn't deserve that. If she calls the Feds, it'll work out for us, and neither Tammy nor Fred gets in any more trouble."

  Jessie glanced his way.

  "You have a thing for her?"

  "Probably should have," Mark replied simply. "Fred always told me I should follow up on her invitations, but never did."

  "And now you never can," Jessie said insightfully. If she was jealous, it didn't show.

  "Doesn't matter," Mark said simply, and dropped the matter.

  Ten miles away, Mark and Jessie went into the strip bar separately. Glen and Steph took up a watch from inside their car down the street. Glen was the wheelman, and Steph was their communicator. She is able to talk and monitor both nets they were using, the link to Mark and Jessie, and the one to Ed's team. Now she spoke quietly into the small microphone, "They're going in now," she told Ed's team.

  Jessie went in first. Given her looks and the kind of place this was, no one paid any attention to Mark who stepped in half a minute later. He walked quietly and confidently to the same table where he'd met Fred the last time he'd been here. Fred wasn't here tonight, either because he hadn't gotten the word or had decided not to come. Mark was glad. He'd abused enough friendships tonight. He pulled out his .45 and held it in his lap under the table, just in case. If anything were going to happen, this would be the place. The drink he ordered came, but he let it sit on the table.

  For a long time nothing much happened. Almost thirty minutes passed before three seedy looking characters came in together. They are dressed appropriately for this place, but right off Mark can see they are too physically fit to be regulars at a place like this. The other patrons here are older, worn down, drunks, or simply men at the end of their rope. These three want something, and somehow they remind Mark of the picture Glen took at the safe house of the Mafia type. He's certain these are more of the same. Somehow their message reached those seeking them, and in this case not the Feds.

  He hoped the Feds showed as well, and maybe someone from Homeland. It would be interesting to understand how they all interlinked. It was also amusing that he wanted the Feds here, because while some might be legit, Mark and Jessie were convinced their enemy had a hold inside the organization.

  If Mark had any doubts, those were swept away a few minutes later, when Bud Johnson entered the bar. That couldn't be coincidence! He didn't look much like Johnson, bearded and dressed in clothing the Bud Johnson he'd known would never have worn, but it was him. The man certainly got around! Jessie had spotted him as well, her voice confirming his suspicions as she whispered in his ear through their comm net. If Johnson was armed, it was not with the bulky alien weapon, which Mark was grateful for.

  It was time to leave. They'd drawn attention this way, and it wasn't their intention to get killed or captured. Fleeing would work every bit as much as a distraction as staying here. But how to do so without getting shot?

  He hadn't paid attention to where Jessie had gone. That would have been suspicious, but now her voice came over the net again.

  "Go out the back door."

  Mark knew that Glen and Steph would have heard and would be headed that way with their car.

  Mark got up to leave, and started toward the back of the bar. One of the three hoods stood up to block his way, a silvery pistol coming out to ensure his cooperation. The other two were moving as well, and there was no time to discuss the matter. Mark fired the Kimber into the man's chest at near point blank range. The sound caused everything in the bar to come to an abrupt halt, with all eyes turning in his direction. The man he shot went down without a sound. The two others were reaching for firearms as well, when Jessie fired three shots into the ceiling causing them to scramble for cover in opposite directions. Together, he and Jessie fled down the narrow hallway and burst out the back door. As the door slammed open, Mark heard someone at the front of the bar shout, "FBI, drop your weapons."

  He wondered if they were good guys or bad guys, but someone back there had dec
ided to fight as several shots rang out clearly from several different weapons.

  Glen and Steph were waiting, and they jumped into the dark van, which sped away as Mark pulled the door closed. They'd abandon the other car. It had served its purpose and their part was now done. Time to head home, or whatever name applied to the cabin in the woods where they were hiding.

  Chapter 35

  Team 1 had accomplished their goal, Ed thought, pleased with what Steph had reported. Most importantly, they had all gotten away without incident. But he wasn't entirely certain what it all told him. The FBI had made an appearance at the fake rendezvous that Mark had pretended to arrange. That meant that either the woman Tammy, or Mark's former associate Fred, had contacted them. It was also possible that whatever conversation Tammy had with Fred, assuming she called, had been overheard, or even that she was being watched when Mark approached her in the nightclub. Somehow Ed doubted the latter, as the Feds would have attempted to grab Mark before he could get away. It didn't really matter, because the distraction was successfully in play. Resources would be focused on that part of town, and on finding Mark and the others, and not thinking about what Ed was about to do.

  The alien contingent had also been there, showing they were quick to track down the four altered humans, whether it was as Steph hypothesized or some other means. Johnson's presence was a clear indication of the alien group, and the Mafia types had been present during the attack on the safe house where the alien weapon had been in use. That seemed to tie them together. What wasn't so clear was whether the alien team had arrived because of the agent inside the Bureau, who learned of the planned meeting and passed that information on, or whether they came to the place as the result of some independent means. It seemed like it was only the two groups, but Ed couldn't help wondering if Homeland had some people there as well. A big question lurking in the back of his mind was whether there might be an infiltrator inside his own agency.