Megan

by C. R. Daems

When the phone on the director's conference table rang he answered, nodded, and put the phone on speaker. "Mr. Witton, I have Mr. Whitcome and Kazak Megan here."

  "I understand you had some excitement," Witton said, concern evident in his tone. "Megan, what happened?"

  "An assassination attempt with something short like a CAR15 or XM-177."

  "Was anyone hurt? Bystanders?"

  "No one unless you count the building behind us. It's going to need reconstructive surgery," I blurted. Couldn't help it. I still felt like the Energizer Bunny with new batteries.

  "She's right," Eddie interjected with a wry grin. "They got off more than thirty rounds. Megan is very fast and a good shot." He grinned. Gammon went on to explain what they had discovered to date. When he finished, Witton spoke.

  "Megan, Kazak Brock was shot in the back today while on vacation in San Francisco. We aren't sure why, but it doesn't seem like a drive-by shooting. It appears intentional and could be related to one of his assignments. I'll keep you updated." He cut the connection before I could comment. There was a bit of irony if Witton was right—revenge on the Kazak for protecting a VIP. It might also mean that we would have to worry about protecting ourselves when not on assignment—an ugly thought.

  "A friend?" Gammon asked.

  "I knew him well. We were fellow students at the Kazak school. He was one of the three who graduated with me. We trained together every day." Although it might be, it didn't feel random.

  Gammon decided I should stay until they could definitely determine the two had been acting alone and not working in concert with others, and that they didn’t have friends who might consider seeking revenge. I stayed four more weeks while the FBI investigated the two men's families, friends, and acquaintances. In the end, they concluded the two had acted alone and that no one was interested in avenging them.

  "Well, Megan. This has been an interesting experience. If you are ever in D.C. and need a place to crash, you're welcome to stay here as long as you want. And if you ever need a favor and I can help, I'd be glad to. I have a lot of connections in and out of the government."

  "Thanks, Eddie. I've enjoyed our month together, but you've run out of entertainment," I joked. Eddie had been a good client, cooperative and understanding of the Lynn Protocol.

  "You're crazy, Megan. That should have been the worst experience of my life and would have been if it hadn't been over before I knew what was happening. And you ..." He stopped as if considering the appropriate word.

  "Enjoyed it?" I asked. "That might not be the right word, but saving lives and thwarting the bad guys gives me an adrenaline rush like nothing else on Earth."

  "Are all the Kazaks like you?" he asked.

  "Probably not. We are unique individuals when all is said and done. For me, getting to know the real person I'm guarding—not the façade he projects—is the interesting part of the job. And getting to know Eddie Whitcome has been an honor."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Retribution Required

  At the airport Ann Marie had a limo pick me up and deliver me to the condo. And to my surprise, she had scheduled a late meeting with Witton.

  "Come in, Megan. I see Ann Marie had something for you to drink. Take a seat," Witton said as I entered with a bottle of limeade. "Kazak Gilman was stabbed to death in San Diego yesterday while on a post-assignment vacation—"

  "That can't be a coincidence!" I said, interrupting Witton.

  "We don't think so either. We have the FBI looking into both incidents, trying to find a connection. It could be their last assignments, but I have this feeling it's something personal and directed specifically at the Kazaks."

  "I know you're due a post-assignment vacation, but I'm postponing assignments and vacations while the FBI investigates these two murders." Witton gave a short laugh. "Give you and the others that week of training you wanted after an assignment.

  "Good idea. I'm guessing you would like us to stay away from town." I suspected he and the Committee were concerned and wanted everyone close until the reasons for the murders could be established.

  "Yes. We're holding the three newest agents here—and Jody, when she finishes her assignment. Homeland security has made this the FBI's top priority, so hopefully it won't be long.

  * * *

  I spent the next six days at the Kazak facility, working out with available Kazaks, and at our firing range, working with a variety of weapons. My last assignment had convinced me that I was unlikely to get a second chance in most encounters, so I worked on firing while in motion—either spinning to the ground or while diving for the ground—and at moving targets.

  On the seventh day, Jody returned while I was practicing.

  "That looks like a lot of work," she shouted as I lay on the ground, catching my breath after diving over a bench and shooting at a target I had swinging twenty-five yards away. "And dirty." She wrinkled her nose as she helped me up and gave me a hug. "I don't blame you for practicing diving for the ground the way you're attracted to AK-47s."

  "They spray bullets like a shotgun sprays pellets so your opponent doesn't need to aim, but you do." I said. "How did your assignment go?"

  "It was actually fairly simple, a Hinckley-like individual who thought he'd just walk up and shoot the senator."

  "What about the FBI security?" I asked.

  "After I shot the guy they huddled around the senator with guns drawn." She frowned. "I can't blame them, what with the after-action hassle they would get. Couldn't you have disabled the man without shooting him? Did you warn him before you shot? Did you consider the innocent bystanders in the area? What if you had missed...? And God forbid the man was reaching for his cell phone to take a picture. Easier to let him shoot the senator and arrest him afterward." She gave a wry grin.

  I looked up, eyes wide in mock exasperation.

  She laughed. "I love this job, but I'd hate to be regular FBI security. They're caught between Monday quarterbacks and romantic idealists who have a week to consider the facts that the agent had to decide in seconds."

  I nodded agreement. "I hate to admit that automatic weapons are a rush. It's like a super-blast of adrenaline and a high like no drug could give you. Against impossible odds—you survived, saved your client, and you're super woman!" I flung my arms wide and laughed.

  "I might just take your word for that. Not sure I'm ready for the AK-high." She stared at me for a minute. "All right, I saw the technique you used, but I haven't heard your exaggerated version of the incident."

  "It goes best with popcorn and a drink." I grinned, locking my arm in hers. We went back to my condo and talked late into the night.

  The next morning Witton requested a meeting with the seven available Kazaks. When I arrived, three were already there. I had met each of them over the past several days. Steve the Panther, a tall dark haired Italian-looking man in his late twenties. He had six years' experience with Kazaks. Martin the Lion, Mexican ancestry and around thirty with long brown hair and a muscular figure. He had eight years’ experience. And Lee the Tiger. Asian ancestry, thin, wiry, and an inch shorter than me. He had six years’ experience and the best I'd seen at hand-to-hand combat. The other two wandered in a few minutes later, along with Jody. Before I could say anything, Ann Marie waved us over.

  "You can go in now. Mr. Witton is waiting in his conference room." She pointed to the glassed-in room across the hall.

  "Get yourselves something to drink and have a seat," Witton said as we entered the room. Witton was already sitting with a cup of coffee. He waited until everyone had settled before speaking. "The FBI has been investigating the murders of Kazaks Matt the Panther and Greg the Tiger. They found no connection between the two murders. They did come to the conclusion that the killings were deliberate and unprovoked. It may also be significant that Matt and Greg graduated the same year." He stopped and looked at each of us. "That suggests the killer or killers are targeting Kazaks and maybe those of a specific graduation class."

  "That is the
same year that Megan and Jody graduated," Martin said, nodding his head in Jody and my direction. "That may not be a coincidence."

  "It's too early to say, but it's certainly a possibility. What we do know is that both Kazaks were on vacation, which would appear to rule out one of the professional assassination-for-hire organizations," Witton said. "That is actually more troubling, since it means someone knows who the current Kazaks are, either because they have or had access to Kazak training or because they've been watching the headquarters building."

  "Since the graduation year may be a factor, can I take my post-assignment vacation now?" I said, eager to find the bastard who was killing Kazaks and kill him or her or them before they killed anyone else.

  Witton frowned at me. "Do you think that is a good idea?"

  "A great idea. No more risk than protecting a client from a professional assassin. And if he is stalking the headquarters building, waiting for potential victims, we are as prepared as we could be."

  "I think I'm due a post-assignment leave also," Jody said, with excitement dancing in her brown eyes.

  "I think they're right, Mr. Witton," Martin the Lion said with a shrug. The others were nodding. "Better to meet them on our terms rather than theirs."

  After a long silence, Witton nodded. "If our killers are fixated on the graduation year then you two are the best choice, but before you go we need to develop a plan. You need to be monitored, wear protective clothing, and have a strategy. We also need to review the circumstances surrounding the previous two murders: where the victims stayed, how they got there, what they were doing at the time they were attacked, time of day, number of days into their vacation, etc. Maybe we can determine a pattern and the most likely time or place for an attack."

  * * *

  Witton, Jody, and I spent the next four days reading the FBI reports on the incidents: interviews with witnesses, people in the area, people the Kazaks had met, and crime scene evidence. Then we reviewed the records of the candidates who started with us and had been asked to leave, paying special attention to the reason they were considered unfit, as well as any comments from the instructors.

  We spent another several days getting outfitted with modified vests to protect our backs, which seemed to be the killer's favorite target. Even though Greg had been stabbed in the chest, the investigation had concluded the initial attack had been from behind.

  "This waiting is killing me," I said as we sat around late one night, talking over the week’s preparations.

  "Me too, but Witton is right. The murderer may be a coward but he's dangerous, and the investigation didn't rule out multiple killers," Jody said, while filling her coffee cup. "I think our preparations have significantly increased our chances of living through an encounter. Like you, my initial reaction was to rush off and rely on our training to save us. But Witton was right to be cautious."

  "I agree. And this is different from a normal assignment where the Assassin's target is primarily the client and we are just in the way."

  "Witton wants to see us tomorrow, so I think he's ready to approve us going out."

  "I hope so. I agree the preparation was necessary, but I'm as impatient as a kid waiting for Christmas morning," I said.

  "Let's hope Santa is good to us." Jody gave me her best evil grin.

  * * *

  "I believe you currently have a better than even advantage on the killer or killers, but only if our assumptions are correct: there is one killer, or at most two, he or they are targeting your graduation class, and he or they are watching our facility. If our assumptions are wrong, then the killer or killers could have the advantage. In addition, if we screw this up we will lose them. He or they will know we are on to them, and they will most likely disappear to go free or to reappear at a later time of their choosing and kill more Kazaks," Witton said, reinforcing the reason for the preparation and careful planning. Jody and I would have liked to have relied on our training, but we knew Witton's concern for our safety had driven his cautious approach. Of course, if the killer or killers managed to kill us they would represent an ongoing threat to the organization. "One of you needs to appear to go on your post-assignment vacation while the other one leaves unobserved and in disguise."

  Jody laughed. "I think it would be a little easier to disguise Megan than me, unless she's going to vacation in south Los Angeles or Watts."

  "Actually, that may not be a bad idea. Jody can merge into the general population, while I will stick out—and so will our murderers." I said, warming to the idea.

  "Only if our murderers aren't African Americans," Witton said, and he immediately began leafing through one of the files on his desk. "No luck. Two of our ten suspects are black. So it's possible we are looking at a group which may include white and black members. I hope it's one individual, but I am beginning to doubt it."

  "Well, Megan?" Jody asked.

  "I don't like you being a decoy." I said, realizing she wouldn't be a typical client and wouldn't be able to enforce the Lynn Protocol. To make it worse, I was too fond of her, which wasn't good.

  "I trust the murderer won't get off a shot with my trigger-happy friend around." Jody grinned.

  "That's would be true if I could follow you like I would a client." I felt frustrated and concerned I couldn't use Lynn's Rules. As she had often said, "can't protect you if I can’t see you."

  "I can also shoot, I'll be wearing protective gear, and I'll be armed," Jody said, frowning in indignation.

  "You win," I said in resignation and turned to look at Witton. "What's my disguise?"

  "Let's figure out where Jody will be staying and what she'll be doing for entertainment. Then we can decide on your cover and disguise."

  To my growing frustration, that took another two days. Ann Marie made reservations for two adjoining studio suites on the seventh floor of the Virginian Suites Hotel. My room was under an alias, Martha Simons. A team was dispatched immediately to install cameras and sound equipment. Meanwhile, I was provided three different outfits, including wigs and padding for different parts of my anatomy.

  On the third day I took a cab to Washington Dulles International Airport and boarded a fight for Chicago. When I arrived, I caught a fight several hours later back to Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport and took a cab to the Virginian Suites. If someone were following me it would have looked like I had an assignment because I was dressed all in black and carried my workbag with my normal assortment of weapons.

  I entered the lobby just before ten the next morning in my Martha Simons school-teacher-on-vacation disguise—a slightly overweight middle-aged woman wearing glasses—to wait on Jody. I had been in the lobby for about thirty minutes, pretending to be reading tourist brochures, when she arrived. My brooch-camera streamed video of everyone entering after her to my tablet. Less than ten minutes later I recognized Sammie Bolin, a fourth challenge dropout. At the time, I had been amazed and worried about my chances of surviving because he was good at everything. Now that I reflected on Sammie, he had a quick temper and tended to be sadistic—a potential psychopath with a license to kill. It took every bit of my self-control not to jump up and shoot him but, if Witton was right, he may be a part of a larger group out for revenge against the Kazak organization for rejecting them. I'd wager he and the others thought themselves better than those who qualified and were out to prove it by killing those of us who passed. Ironically, their sneak up from behind and kill mythology proved they weren't as good and would have make terrible Kazaks.

  Sammie left after a short discussion with the young woman on duty at the reception counter, no doubt inquiring after Jody's room number. I rose and went outside and asked the valet to get me a cab, while keeping an eye on Sammie. Confirming our working theory, he stood waiting by the curb, and a few minutes later a car stopped to pick him up. I couldn't get a picture of the other man's face, but I did get the license plate number. My cab arrived too late to follow them.

  "Where to, ma'am?" the Indian-looking ca
bbie asked.

  I handed him three twenties. "Drive me to the nearest Starbucks, and pick me up in an hour. Whatever is left over is your tip."

  He looked at the twenties as though they might have been counterfeit and then a broad smile appeared. "Yes, ma'am."

  At Starbucks, I used my tablet to let Jody know what I had seen and sent her the recorded video. I had decided to stay an hour just in case a third person was watching the lobby and had noticed me. I reasoned that an hour should be enough time to appear like the normal comings and goings of a tourist. When I arrived back I went straight to my room, found the connecting door, and knocked.

  "Come in, it's open," Jody said and continued as soon as I closed the door behind me. "What do you think, Megan? Did they leave someone else to watch to see when I leave?"

  "That would seem logical. Unless they're going to attack you in the hotel hallway or the room. But I didn't notice anyone." I sat, annoyed at not being able to just shoot Sammie while I had him in view. Knowing I'd done the right thing didn't help. "They will be wearing protective gear," I said, feeling confident I was right. "They may think they're better than us, but they aren't brave or stupid, based on their previous murders."

  "I agree. Shoot for the head." She laughed. "The frustrating part is ensuring we get them all. Otherwise we are going to be looking over our shoulders every time we go out."

  "The Arlington House?" I asked, as that was the first attraction and I needed to get dressed. We had worked out a tentative schedule with the appropriate disguises for each.

  "Yes. But first the Quarterdeck for lunch."

  "All right, give me one hour to get in position so I can watch you leave. I'd like to see if they have someone tailing you and, if so, who." There was a good chance I might recognize him...or her, if not from having interfaced with them in a training, then from our list of suspects, since I had reviewed the files and seen multiple pictures of each person on the list.