Gilad walked with purpose down the steps of his jet at the urging of his bodyguards. Two of those men, in their mid-thirties, looked as if they should be playing for the NFL. Their bodies, toned and hard from strenuous exercise, tensed as the prime minister disembarked. The third bodyguard walked a breath in front of the prime minister. He towered above the five foot eleven Israeli Prime Minister by several inches.
Although covered in dark glasses, their eyes moved rapidly to survey their surroundings, looking for dangers that would take the life of Gilad Levi. The Secret Service formed another perimeter outside the plane and they too scanned the area for trouble. No matter that the prime minister wore a Kevlar vest under his bullet proof suit; a sniper could easily make a head shot, eliminating one of the United States most powerful and faithful allies. The president’s limousine, known as The Beast, waited conspicuously on the tarmac not far from the plane.
Gilad slowed his pace only a fraction as the door of the limo opened and a tall, familiar man emerged from the backseat. Dressed in a black suit, he looked very much like the other American Secret Service agents that began to back toward the limo. He knew the agent to be a formidable death sentence for anyone who threatened the president or the United States.
This man stood six foot one, maybe two, with closely cropped black hair. The good looks of a man with some undetermined ethnic heritage, made you forget that, at least for part of the year, he taught French literature to students at a small university in Sacramento. It amazed him that this hardened ex-Delta Force officer could be content reading anything by the gutless French. His tanned skin looked darker on such a cloudy day.
The wide mouth showed no expression as his eyes scanned the horizon in anticipation of danger. Dark glasses covered what the prime minister knew to be almond shaped eyes which were often narrowed in observation. Even though they were the color of chocolate, Gilad witnessed them turn black with rage on several occasions.
He trusted the man with his life. Benjamin Clark, Director of Enigma, as well as President Buck Austin considered Captain Chase Hunter the ultimate line drawn in the sand for terrorists.
“Captain.” The prime minister spoke matter-of-fact as he slipped into the backseat of the Beast where another man waited in the shadows for him.
“Sir,” was the only reply he offered before joining them in the car.
Gilad’s largest bodyguard awkwardly pushed into the front seat. The head of state watched the others disappear in several black vehicles on the tarmac. When the man in the front seat spoke into his sleeve, the procession began to move away from the plane.
Prime Minister Levi turned to the other man who sat patiently eyeing his most important passenger. “Ben, you look like hell,” he quipped as he pounded his brother on the knee with his fist.
Usually a solemn man and not given to outward expression, a rare smile spread across Benjamin Clark’s face as he pushed the prime minister’s fist aside and tried to slap him upside the head, only to be deflected with a quick punch to the solar plexus. Ben grunted as he grabbed his chest and began to laugh deep in his throat. Gilad reached out and pulled the director into his arms and gave him a bear hug. “I’ve missed you, little brother.”
The bodyguard in the front seat turned to make sure the prime minister remained secure. His facial expression showed resentment that the American agent protecting Enigma’s director sat in the backseat with the prime minister.
“So,” Gilad said looking around the limo with interest and running his hand across the seat, “this is the president’s Beast. Impressive.” He smiled over at the solemn Captain Hunter. “And how are you, captain? You’re looking fit and mean as ever.”
“Thank you, sir.” The captain offered with a cool reserve as his eyes continually drifted outside and out the back of the limo, watching to see if anything suspicious caught his attention.
“I’ve heard that several pints of the president’s blood are carried in the trunk.” He smiled. “Just in case.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir.” The captain spoke with the emotion of a sleepy bear.
“Like hell you don’t.” Gilad laughed. “Any booze for this cruise?” He looked to his brother. Even though his brother wasn’t a drinker due in part to his evangelical mother, Gilad knew Ben could hold his own with a good bottle of Jack Daniels.
“You’re on your way to see the president. It wouldn’t be appropriate for you to arrive smelling like a Tennessee distillery.” Ben continued to smile at his famous half-brother.
They shared the same Israeli father by blood. Gilad’s mother died when he was but a toddler. The only mother he’d ever known and loved was the American woman his father had married. She showered as much affection and guidance on him as her own son, Benjamin. They didn’t even know they were half-brothers until they were in their early teens. Gilad, groomed for the Israeli army from the time he could walk, spent most of his teen years in Israel. Benjamin was expected by his forceful father, to attend the military academy and serve the United States in hopes of aiding Israel if the need should ever arise.
Both boys considered Israel and the United States home. As the boys grew older their loyalties forged differently; Ben wrapped himself in the red, white and blue. Gilad became the power behind the Star of David.
“How is the president?” Gilad said as his face slid into a more serious expression.
“Troubled. There appears to be a glitch with the hearings on the USS Liberty tragedy. Someone doesn’t want this to happen. Looks like the Egyptians are involved. We just don’t know why or how. These hearings could reveal the truth. Israel is the one who stands to lose face.”
Gilad sighed as he looked out the window. “Why can’t the world leave us alone? We want peace, not a fight.” His pale blue eyes cut to the captain who sat quietly, pretending not to listen. “Is your team in place, Captain?”
Chase nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He removed his sunglasses and met the Israeli leader’s eyes with a cool, steel determination that in an odd way reassured the prime minister.
Benjamin took a quick breath before proceeding. “Part of the crew of the Liberty was scheduled to arrive yesterday. Four of the five men asked to testify, never reached their hotel.”
“And the fifth?”
“Checked in and out within an hour of arrival. Disappeared before we knew anything was amiss.” Captain Hunter tightened and released his jaw before continuing. “He did contact his brother, a Billy Wakefield in Franklin, Tennessee.”
The prime minister shook his head and pursed his lips impatiently. “Is this important?”
“We contacted the brother saying we were with the Liberty hearings. Didn’t really give us any indication of a problem except…” The captain paused as he lifted a finger to rub an area over his heart. The spot had started to throb again, just like a year ago when he’d run a mission for Global Navigation.
The director eyed the captain, ill at ease with the conversation. “The brother told us his daughter was to contact the uncle when she arrived in D.C. He wanted to see her. He knew she was attending a conference.”
“Sorry, Ben. I’m not following.”
“The niece is Tessa Scott. She worked for us a year ago. It’s rather convenient her being here at the same time as the hearings. She’s nothing more than a school teacher attending a geographic conference it seems. Eyes have been on her today since St. Louis.”
“What do you think is going on? Pick her up. See what she says.”
“She’ll say it’s divine intervention.” Ben chuckled remembering the obstinate manner in which the woman liked to explain away the impossible. “We had plans to recruit her, but the captain here,” he nodded toward Chase, “has some reservations.”
The captain raised his chin slightly as if objecting to him being involved in the decision. “We thought it best to see if he makes contact with her. If she becomes aware we’re here and if I know Mrs. Scott, she’ll go out of her way to avoid us. In the meantime
nothing out of the ordinary has popped up on our radar. Your visit wasn’t announced until yesterday. The media is scrambling to find out why you’re here.”
The prime minister chuckled without smiling as he slapped his brother on the leg. “Your American media loves a fight as much as a disaster killing thousands of people. They fidget when nothing big happens in the world.”
Benjamin nodded and patted his brother’s arm. “Maybe a celebrity will be arrested while you’re here. That usually takes precedent over real life and death drama which could quite possibly change the world. Remember Sharia Palla Como?”
The prime minister nodded and withdrew his hand. “Yes. At the time all hell broke loose in Iraq between the Sunni and Shiites at a mosque. That young reporter.” He seemed to pause.
“Someone from NBC,” the captain offered in a flat line voice.
The prime minister snapped his fingers. “That’s him. He tried to report the horror and warn the military but only got about ninety seconds. Whatever happened to him?”
“He got his head shot off.” The captain’s bland voice failed to show sympathy.
“Everyone wanted to hear about the blond bombshell.” Gilad’s voice quieted. “What has this great country come to, Ben?”
Director Benjamin Clark did not answer but stared straight ahead.
~~~
The rain had stopped on the mall, allowing tourists to begin drifting out of the Smithsonian Museums. A hint of sun teased the pudgy clouds that parted in clumps. Heavy humidity began to burden the August heat as children splashed in puddles against the warnings of exhausted parents. The sudden thunder storm drove the city into a quiet state, forcing tourists, lobbyists, government officials and city dwellers indoors for several hours. The sounds of taxis speeding through puddles followed by the blare of horns mingled with voices drifting across the mall. Sirens came and went with little evidence of concern.
The rattle of tourist maps, hot dog vendors and the shrill whistle to attract a cab, floated over the Reflecting Pond at the Washington Monument. It reopened after years of renovations and repairs. A minor earthquake had occurred leaving cracks in places engineers felt needed to be addressed. Long lines waited to enter and glimpse the towering obelisk from within and hear the park ranger’s speech about its historical significance. Tessa wanted tickets to the monument but not at the cost of standing in line at 6a.m.
Sleep seemed like a better alternative especially since her two friends insisted on partying until after midnight on the roof top restaurant of the W Hotel. Then the mysterious man with the photograph of her uncle appeared. Sleep eluded her until nearly four. Methodically, Tessa went over every minute of the previous evening.
Shelly won the dinner drawing at the registration table after arriving early for the conference. A roof top dinner at the W Hotel was quite a coup. Other teachers from around the country also found their way to the ambience of a candle light dinner. People were drawn to Tessa’s fun loving coworkers. The party grew in spite of Tessa’s unease at being in an unfamiliar place. Seeing two Enigma agents at the airport kept her eyes searching everywhere for the one man that managed to invade her dreams each night.
After midnight people began to say goodbye. Shelly’s laugh, with Kate’s encouragement, started to grate on her nerves. Tessa wasn’t sure how much the two drank, but the morning light would certainly make them regret trying to be college students instead of mature women in their late thirties. Mature might be a stretch, Tessa reasoned as she told them to say their final goodbyes.
Strolling to a seat near the edge of the roof, she could gaze at the White House grounds one last time while her friends paid their bar bill.
Lightning flickered in the distant clouds and the smell of rain once more filled the air. A humid breeze began to stir the white tablecloths and toy with the edge of Tessa’s black skirt. She absentmindedly laid a hand on the hem to keep it from lifting up over her thighs.
Taking a deep breath, she became aware of someone sitting down in the rattan chair across from her. Trying not to appear startled forced her body to tense. Her eyes examined the man from head to toe in one sweep. She’d learned a year earlier the world and the people in it could be immensely deceiving. Being in Washington D.C. heightened her senses to danger. The dim lights of flickering candles made his features hard to distinguish.
What she could make out was his narrow smile. It reminded her of the cat in Alice in Wonderland. He sat with quiet reserve, dark hands resting on the arms of the chair. With crossed legs, his suit jacket parted ever so slightly. Tessa saw the bump under his jacket and knew in that split second he carried a holstered weapon. She wanted to bolt, but realized it was absurd to even contemplate an escape. Dangerous men always had a backup plan. Was he to be her contact?
By sitting in a shadowy area, Tessa wasn’t able to see much of his face. How long had he been watching her? Why didn’t she make better notes of her surroundings? This was how women got taken advantage of when they least expected it.
She stared at him for only a moment when he reached inside the left side of his jacket with his right hand and withdrew a small photo. Holding it midair for a few seconds, the man seemed to tease her. Without warning he stood, dropping the mysterious photograph on the glass top table in front of her.
Like a random snowflake it dropped in slow motion. She refocused her eyes on the stranger who now leaned in enough for the flickering candle light to reveal a man in his late thirties. Jet black eyebrows and a thick mustache gave him the look of a diplomat. Large eyes with generous eyelashes created a less menacing figure. He reached down and slid the photo over with one finger before smiling.
“You know this man?” The accent was Middle Eastern with a British slant.
Tessa’s eyes dropped to the photo where his finger rested. Gingerly, she lifted the photo then pulled the candle nearer to get a closer look. The photo was of a battered and nearly destroyed ship. A man stood on the dock pointing to the name of what was left of the USS Liberty.
“Do you know him?” This time the voice was deeper and more sinister.
Tessa looked up at him and nodded, afraid to speak.
“If you want to keep your uncle safe, I suggest you convince him to abandon his folly. Tell him to stick to the plan.” His eyes ran over her face then slid downward across her body creating a smile. “Be careful, Mrs. Scott.”
He started to reach for the photograph when she grabbed it. For a moment she thought he would snatch it out of her hand. Drunken friends wobbled up accusing her of being a wet blanket once again. She tried to smile as the picture got slipped inside her clutch. The man walked away with indifference and disappeared.
After tucking her friends into bed and making sure their room was secure, Tessa reluctantly escaped to her own room two floors above them. Still surprised the hotel provided her with an upgrade as a result of not being able to accommodate all three women together as originally planned now created questions of their generosity. Since the reservations were in her name she would be alone in her own space. Considering her two best friends snored loud enough to wake the dead, she felt relieved knowing she would avoid their foul moods.
Now the thought of being in a Washington D.C. hotel room, all alone, forced her to feel on edge. It was intuitively obvious that someone wanted her to be isolated. Closing the door, Tessa flipped on the light switch then stood statue still. Observing the expansive room with the king size bed, sitting room and office area, she guessed it was nearly twice the size of her friends’ room. Blue silk drapes outlined the set of French doors leading onto a narrow balcony with an ornate iron railing. The rich dark floor was covered in a faux leopard rug that started under the bed and reached across the room to the brown leather couch and wing back chairs.
It was more than an upgrade, it was a distraction. This could make her lose focus. Enigma’s handy work showed in having her isolated. At least this scenario made more sense than getting reservations mixed up.
The
turned down bed, covered in a blue duvet trimmed in a soft leopard, beckoned her exhausted body. She remembered the last time she’d slept in a bed of this size. Because of the incident, she would be forever haunted by a tall Enigma agent.
Tessa pulled the small photograph from her clutch and stared at it with suspicion. Her parents had left a voicemail the day before about a new cell number for her Uncle Jake. He would expect a call when she arrived. Did that have anything to do with Enigma making contact today? Disgusted at herself for feeling a quickened pulse and a little breathless, Tessa forced herself away from the door.
Carelessly, she tossed her purse and the photo on the couch before snapping up the flat screen remote. Without checking the channel, she exited into the bathroom and began running a bath. She felt the caffeine from drinking too much iced tea and knew she needed something to relax.
Striping off her clothes, she tossed them into the other room before sinking down into the churning waters. The weather forecasts on the television sounded in the other room; something about a hurricane. A deep breath followed by a sigh helped her tune out such news. This wasn’t so bad. Distraction or not, it wouldn’t take much to get used to this kind of life.
After soaking and wrapping in one of the hotel’s plush white robes, she decided it was time to address the problem concerning her uncle. Barefoot and refreshed, she padded into the sitting room. She’d shoved the number into her clutch earlier in the evening in hopes of calling him. Time slipped away while she tried to keep her friends from making fools out of themselves. Because of the late hour, she laid it out next to the phone as a reminder for the morning. The dim light of the roof top restaurant prevented her from reading the words written on the back of the photo. Now would be a good time to have another look. Clarity might follow now that she felt relaxed.
Walking into the sitting room, Tessa noticed the clothes she discarded earlier. Folded neatly on the footstool in front of the wing-backed chair, they looked as if she’d just unpacked them. She ran to the door to reassure herself the dead bolt had not been compromised. Could someone have come through the door? She believed the safety lock had been secured, yet it remained open.
Winds of Deception (Enigma Series Book 2) Page 3