After firing, Shooter One came to his senses and lay as flat on the ground as he possibly could, pressing his cheek hard against the dry compacted soil, hoping it would somehow cover him. His AK-47 was tucked beside him as his only comfort. His eyes followed the small trail of smoke coming from the end of his recently fired barrel.
Shooter One now figured there were multiple shooters in the dark expanse of banana foliage, but didn’t know how many. He heard the plane as it approached lift-off speed, but didn’t dare turn his head to look. More tolerable because of his position, the hard dry dirt seemed somehow softer. He was now alone in an open field with no cover.
The shooter’s mind was working hard, knowing that he had just loaded a full magazine into his weapon. Now that the plane was aloft, he wondered if a full clip of AK-47 rounds would cover his escape. Something about the hard ground suddenly appealed to him.
He scanned the edge of banana plants lining the open field. Every plant looked like a shooting position. He wasn’t about to lift his head; his only hope now was that his low position might offer some protection.
From Shooter One’s reactions, Wade realized that he was not used to fighting in the open. He was probably trained for jungle warfare, where dense cover meant everything. The shooter now lay as good as naked on the ground separated by 100 yards of open space between him and dense cover without a leaf to hide under.
Shooter One became either restless or confident enough to fire two short bursts while lying perfectly flat. The rounds landed in the dark vegetation on either side of Wade. In desperation, he must have been hoping for a miracle shot. The random shot pattern confirmed that he still didn’t have a fix on Wade’s position.
His flat in-line position in front of Wade made for a small, difficult target. There was little Wade could scope except a portion of his head sticking only few inches above the ground. Wade took a quick look above him for one last check of the eucalyptus leaf movement. He made a minor adjustment to his scope for the afternoon breeze that had just picked up.
Seeing the man breathe, Wade mimicked his breathing rhythm. His target turned his head to one side, trying to lower his profile even further. Wade knew that the difference between a hit and miss would be less than one inch at the near 100-yard distance.
There was contrast between the gray ground dirt and the shooter’s dark green watch cap. Wade aimed one inch above the contrast line and fired. The target’s body didn’t twitch, no movement of any kind, and Wade thought he might have missed. Not wanting to expose himself, he remained in position, searching for signs of life through his scope.
A trickle of blood emerged from the watch cap, crawling down like a red centipede and confirming that Shooter One was no longer a threat.
Wade turned just in time to see Stephan’s plane gain altitude and bank right toward the mountains. The memory of Stephan’s face looking back at the rear of the plane would remain in Wade’s memory forever. There had been so much movement, plane vibration, and distraction in the last moments before he shot that Wade lacked confidence. He couldn’t see where his round had landed, and he turned on himself in frustration. The second miss on the same target in one day.
Wade felt that if Stephan got medical attention soon, he might survive his wound. Perhaps they would even meet on another assignment, in a different time and place.
He turned his attention back to the farmhouse, not certain if more fire power would emerge. He adjusted his scope and scanned the two roads bordering the open field. Concern ran through his mind. Perhaps more armed men will soon be arriving from trucks blanketing the field. Instead of the roads, perhaps they’re already encircling my flank from the farm side.
Remaining hidden in his current position was his best tactical alternative even if it meant he would soon be under additional fire. An eerie quiet settled over the farmhouse and his position. He rested his back against a large banana plant, surrounded by its large, overhanging leaves, content to wait for sunset.
Wade reflected on the scene before him. It would be picturesque were it not for the dead bodies lying in the field. The beautiful white farmhouse surrounded by lush foliage and the open green field reminded him of a dream he’d once had about retiring on a country farm with the swamp at his back.
He waited until satisfied that there were no further threats. Walking back to his car, he heard the faint sound of an engine sputter a long distance away. The source of the sound wasn’t clear. Perhaps it was a dreaded vehicle backfire that was coming his way. He rushed to the edge of the clearing and began scanning with his scope.
A metal reflection in the sky caught his eye. The flashing metal reflection was miniscule. Grabbing his binoculars, Wade adjusted the focus to the dot and he saw a plane heading in the same general direction as Stephan’s plane had been. It was trailing a small stream of white smoke under the right wing, and seemed to be losing altitude.
Within a few moments he heard the sound of the sputtering engine gradually becoming more distinct. The plane banked left, using the stronger of its two engines to perhaps guide it to a landing spot. However, the plane was still over thick, mountainous jungle.
Wade squinted to see the details. In a few seconds the stream of white smoke turned black and expanded in size, now engulfing the entire right wing. He switched to the strong resolution in his rifle scope. He assessed the plane’s chances for survival. There’s no way this plane is going to make it over that mountain top.
The plane lost more altitude and then banked left again just before disappearing below the tree line. A moment later a single column of white smoke emerged above the treetops. The column expanded into a white plume against the purple afternoon sky.
Wade quickly turned his attention back to his mission. The extraction plan called for him to complete several tasks in Belize City before leaving for the airport. He tried contacting Max on the radio, but only got return static. Max should already be at the airport by now, waiting for his return flight to Houston. There was no point in hanging around. More uninvited guests might arrive. With no further need to stick around, he gathered his weapons and headed back to Belize City, taking the same route he had come.
He pulled up to the storage locker near the marina to unload his equipment. After wiping down his equipment for fingerprints he transferred everything to the storage locker and headed to the library several blocks away. The call to Yari was a necessary part of his extraction plan.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“How’s did everything go?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it later. Look, I’m trying to get out of here, but I need to make the other call we spoke about.”
“Sure. What do you need from me?”
“I need to call the MI-6 woman, Zara Wicks, at the secure number you have for the British Embassy.”
“I remember.”
“Not only do I need a secure encrypted patch, but can you do something else for me?”
“What? Like make the call for you?”
“No. Can you put my voice through some kind of filter, so it’s disguised?”
“I think so. We’re playing around with some interesting software that not only disguises the voice but gives you a different language accent.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I know the call will be recorded. I just want to make sure there’s no identifiable voice recognition pattern.”
“Would you like a British or a French accent?”
“I don’t give a damn. Make it British. I just need you to hurry.”
“Give me eight minutes to set everything up. I’ll call you back at this number. When you speak to her, just talk naturally. Don’t try to do your own accent. It’ll mess up the program.”
“Okay, okay – just get the damn thing set up!”
Wade didn’t have a clue what he would sound like and didn’t really care. During the eight-minute wait, he scribbled down some notes. There were lots of details to remember. Only the important ones matter. Whe
n he looked down at his notes he noticed they were messy, almost unreadable. Looking again, he saw his hand tremble. It must be from the shooting incident. He had been as cool as a cucumber during the incident; this must be the aftershock. He took deep breaths waiting for the phone to ring.
The patch seemed like it was taking an eternity to complete. When the phone finally rang, he jumped and immediately picked up the receiver. Instead of Yari’s voice, he heard the sound of Wicks’ secure line ringing.
“Wicks here.”
“Ms. Wicks, I’m calling you anonymously as another intelligence operative who does not want to be identified.”
“You’ve called a British Embassy line that isn’t used for outside calls. Where did you get this number?”
“Never mind where I got the number. You’re part of the Embassy, but you’re also an MI-6 agent. It will serve you well to listen to what I have to say. It deals with an assassination attempt on the Prime Minister and senior officials at today’s ceremony. That threat was neutralized by my team. All you have to do is listen to what I am going to tell you, and then you can decide if you want to do anything more about it. I will take less than five minutes of your time. I know this conversation is being recorded, but you may want to have a pen and pad in front of you as well.”
A pause followed. Wicks’ first thought was that it was a crank call, leading up to some demand or political statement. She’d gotten many of those before, but none had previously started out this way. Everything the caller first said could be easily checked out. If nothing else, the caller had used a creative approach to get her attention.
“I’m listening.”
Wade described what had happened and the location of the bodies on nearby rooftops, the location and description of the black cases under the stage, the location of the safe houses, and the storage locker number where she could find the C-4 explosives, phosphorous crystals, and other weapons. He identified the location of the farm where the firefight had taken place and the tail number on the plane Stephan had used to escape, along with the location of the probable crash site. After completing his explanations, there was an unexpected silence.
“Your story is almost too bizarre for you to have made it up. Assuming you’re telling the truth, who do you contend was behind this attempt?”
“I don’t know. That’ll be your job to find out. There are plenty of clues, however. I will tell you that significant resources were behind this attempt, and the individuals who participated have the means to try it again.”
“How did you get the intel that this was going to take place?”
“My team didn’t have any advanced intel. The threat was discovered quite by accident while we were on another mission in Belize. There was no time to warn anyone – we just reacted to everything as it unfolded.”
“How do you feel the threat was planned?”
“Everything associated with your ceremony activities is highly publicized, including who is attending which ceremonies. It even gives the times and when each speech is scheduled to occur. I suggest you do something about that exposure.”
“Assuming your story checks out, who do we have to thank for your assistance?”
“No thanks necessary, ma’am. I’m just glad everyone is safe.”
“Is there any chance we could meet to further discuss this?”
“No, ma’am, that’s not possible. By the way, that red rosebud on your jacket goes well with your cream-colored suit, but you look a little tired.”
The click of Wade’s receiver ended the call. Wicks’ head suddenly turned right toward the large window on the other side of the room. As she replaced the receiver, she glanced down at her jacket. The small red rosebud was still fresh from the afternoon ceremonies. Wicks slowly got up from her desk, walked around the credenza, and approached the large picture window but remained out of sight.
Does the caller have me in his line of sight? The tall surrounding glass office buildings reflected back an intense glare from the bright afternoon sun. It was impossible for Wicks to see anything. If he was looking at her, he had the sun at his back.
In one sweep, Wicks closed the heavy, lined curtains, cutting off the light into her office. She quickly returned to her desk and dialed her secretary.
“Have the Chief of Security come to my office immediately.”
Chapter 31
Greenstone, Alabama
Wade was busy finishing a school paper after his return from Belize three days earlier. He hadn’t spoken to Megan since that last call from the library in Belize City just before the attack in Belmopan. He was quietly working on the paper when the phone rang. The harsh ring was then tempered by Megan’s soft voice, and immediately shifted his concentration to a sweeter place.
“I hope you’re busy finishing your class report.”
“As a matter of fact, I’m working on it now.”
“How was your fishing trip?”
“Good. I’m glad to be back.”
“I bet you are. Can you tell me any more about it?”
“I really can’t right now. Just that there were plenty of fish to fry.”
“Are you still coming to Washington for the reception?”
“I wouldn’t miss seeing you for anything.”
“That’s sweet.”
He changed the subject. “Is the training schedule for D.C. the same as we last discussed?”
“It sure is. Nothing’s changed. You’ll meet a lot of interesting people at the reception.”
“I’m looking forward to completing my training and seeing you.”
“I can’t wait.”
He paused then went on, “I don’t guess you’ve heard anything more about Spencer’s activities in Vietnam before his death in North Carolina?”
“Still checking into some files at the Pentagon. Seems like Spencer’s files related to the drug investigation are buried deep under lock and key. You can’t even access the area where the files are kept without a special pass.”
“I figured that might be the case.”
The reception in Washington was the culmination of Agency training attended by agents from around the world. One of the purposes of the gathering was for agents to meet the new crop of recent graduates. It was also an opportunity for recent grads to make connections for permanent postings, and the closest thing the Agency had to an unofficial graduation ceremony. Megan was in charge of organizing hotel activities and coordinating flights for incoming agents. With the reception still two months away, things hadn’t gotten very hectic yet.
She was at her desk making preliminary arrangements when her phone rang. It was a call from her good friend Beverly, who worked at the Pentagon.
“Are you and Wade still in touch?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Interesting. Our office got a communiqué requesting Wade’s personnel file. It didn’t come through normal channels and wasn’t on the request form we normally use.”
“That’s strange. What was the routing?”
“It doesn’t show any routing.”
“That’s strange. No source or origin?”
“Nope. Just delivered to me through inter-office mail. On my directory, you still show as Wade’s supervisor.”
“He’s finished most of his agency training and is now completing college make-up papers, so technically he’s still under me until he graduates.”
“That’s a good way to keep track of your man. I’ll have to remember that.”
“Who do you think is asking for his information?”
“That’s the problem – I can’t tell from this request. I’ll tell you what, since you’re still listed as his contact officer, why don’t I just send the request over to you? I’ll do it by secure messenger this afternoon.”
“That would be fine.”
“I’ll reply to the mail center that all future requests for information on Wade get directed to you. You can take it from there.”
“Thank you, Beverly.
I owe you lunch.”
“Thanks, but who’s got time for lunch?”
Frustration had already reached a boiling point for Megan by the time the secure messenger arrived from the Pentagon. From Beverly’s description, the request breached all agency protocol requirements. Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope.
Reading the document only caused Megan to stew further. It represented more than someone who refused to follow protocol; this document was an affront to standard procedures, not to mention a personal attack on Agency professionalism.
Megan’s mind raced as she read the document, trying to be objective while controlling her feelings for Wade. Under “Purpose” the request stated, “For Covert Assignment.” So … a mysterious unknown source wants Wade’s personnel file for an undisclosed covert assignment. That’s not going to happen. She made notes in preparation for her rejection memorandum. Undisclosed Assignment – Inadequate Purpose. Lacks documentation of originating source for request, Lacks signature of supervising agent and departmental approval, No training agency pre-approval or signoff, Agent is a trainee and not subject to assignment requests. Her list went on.
She swallowed hard as she studied the poorly-prepared request, trying to read between interagency political lines. It met very few protocol standards, and had been typed on an older form no long being used.
The document requested Wade’s entire personnel file as a start. Megan read between the lines. If acted upon, the request would pluck Wade right out of her agency’s control and put him under some undisclosed agent or agency. That was not acceptable, and Megan was determined to stop the request in its tracks.
If Megan had learned anything at the Agency, it was the rules of agency protocol. Wade was not officially eligible for assignment until he graduated in October. Aside from protocol issues, Megan had plans for them as a couple, even though she hadn’t shared those feelings with anyone but her closest friends.
Lethal Authority (Wade Hanna Series Book 2) Page 28