Cobra Clearance

by Richard Craig Anderson

  He had total confidence in Sawyer. The man knew his way around gay cabarets. You didn’t work the streets of Miami without learning to navigate the clubs frequented by the fringe societies. The tall black Bahamian, raised by strict Christian parents, had no issue with how others lived their lives. Sawyer said often that he walked his path, and if others walked a different one then God bless them and may they find happiness. To no one’s surprise, he’d become a rising star among the elite detectives of his squad.

  Tucker trailed behind as Sawyer and Monica pushed inside a venue where same-sex, hetero-sex, and mixed-race couples were a common sight. A layer of cigarette smoke hung like a low cloud inside the dark room as they sat at a tiny table wedged among a dozen others. Meanwhile, Tucker found a seat at the horseshoe-shaped bar, and watched as a waiter took their drink orders. The waiter returned moments later and Tucker could see Monica raise a glass of pinot to the light. Its color was superb even from a distance. Sawyer raised a lager, and Tucker could see that it was full bodied.

  Baker entered twenty minutes later, and after taking a seat at the far end of the bar he acknowledged Tucker by touching his left ear.

  The cabaret filled rapidly. So did the tobacco haze. Tucker observed everything, and when a man and woman walked in moments later he showed no reaction. But inside his head he shouted that’s him, and signaled a passing waiter. Pointing to Sawyer and Monica he said, “Please bring that couple two more of whatever they’re drinking.”

  Monica remained calm when the waiter placed a full glass in front of her. Resting her fingers on Sawyer’s arm a moment later, she picked up her purse, got up, and worked her way past the other tables toward the ladies room. Along the way she went past a dark, slender young man in the company of a tall, brunette woman. They had taken a table directly behind theirs.

  Tucker was convinced it was Kalil. He caught Baker’s eye, paid his tab and went outside. After crossing the narrow cobblestone walkway to a café bar, he took a window seat facing the cabaret. Ordering a Coca Cola Light, he took out his cell and made a call. “Hello,” he began. “Yes, I’m here. Where have you been? Yes, of course I will wait.” He ended the call. Fewer than six minutes passed before an elderly couple bundled in black great coats strolled past his window. They were Swiss and they were on the job.

  An entertainer in gold lamé dress and raucous boas around his beefy neck was taking the stage. Sawyer stood when Monica returned, and after she sat he caressed her cheek with practiced intimacy. When they exchanged a private look he could see the guy and his girl from the corner of his eye. Sawyer bided his time, then got up and walked toward the bar. But drawing abreast of the couple he took an awkward step and stumbled against them. “Oh, I do apologize,” he said in his deepest Bahamian accent.

  The young man smiled. “It is not a problem.”

  Sawyer looked at him with a glint of recognition. “Why, I have not heard such an accent since my friend moved to the United States.” He paused for a heartbeat and asked, “Are you from Ethiopia by any chance?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Sawyer nodded wisely. “I thought so. I met my friend two years ago in Brussels, but he was forced to move on.”

  “Well you see,” the Ethiopian began, “the Belgians have tightened their immigration laws. Too many refugees, no?”

  Sawyer held out his hand. “My name is Albert.” He pointed to Monica and added, “My wife Patricia.”

  “This is my friend, Maria,” the young man replied with a nod toward the woman, “and I am called Kalil.”

  AT THAT MOMENT IN ANOTHER PART of the world, Brenda decided to greet the good-looking guy at the bar. “Seen you here a few times,” she began. “I’m Brenda.”

  Wild Bill Dentz swigged some Coors and set the bottle down. “Buddy.”

  Brenda began cleaning glasses at the bar sink while she talked. “So what’re you doing in these parts? Ain’t no jobs ’round here.”

  “I’ve got my retirement.” He paused for a heartbeat. “Listen. I heard about a club. The kind that doesn’t allow just anyone to join.”

  She stiffened. “I’ll introduce you to my man. He knows about that stuff.” She wondered where her man was. Then it hit her. He’s screwin’ some chick. But where? Christ, better not be doin’ her on my bed. She glared at Dentz. “Another Coors?”

  TUCKER FEIGNED DISINTEREST WHEN Sawyer and Monica walked out of the cabaret shortly after two, followed by another couple. He left four Swiss francs on the table and got outside in time to hear Sawyer say, “Kalil, it has been our pleasure to meet you and Maria.” Then Sawyer took Monica’s arm and they strolled south beneath clearing skies, while Kalil and his girlfriend turned north. Under normal circumstances Tucker would’ve had Sawyer slip a miniature homing device into one of Kalil’s pockets. But not this time. They’d be busted if he found it before arriving home. They would use a combination of human and technological resources, instead.

  Tucker tailed the couple through waning crowds as the Swiss team appeared ahead of them. Baker also joined the venture, falling into place on the far side of the walkway, parallel to Tucker. The two would lag behind Kalil in a classic three-point box. The Swiss team in front could move in either direction at will, giving the hand-off to other waiting teams. If Kalil turned in another direction behind them, either he or Baker could pick up the tail by stepping across the walkway—an innocent action. At one point they would play leap-frog with other teams to keep fresh faces in the mix.

  Tucker had another asset in the pursuit—a Swiss Predator equipped with PIR infrared and Gen-III passive light capabilities was flying high overhead, while its pilot sat at a computer miles away. When Tucker saw a young female agent bump into Kalil, he knew she clutched a miniature transponder in her hand, and the drone was reading it in real time. Her job was to key the transponder as she bumped into Kalil, but not to plant it on him. This way the drone detected the transponder’s ident and created a heat signature unique to Kalil. He could not evade its sensors and the drone would follow him on its own. The watchers settled back to see if he led them to Amahl.

  Tucker still trailed fifty feet behind when Kalil leaned against Maria so that they turned west on Mühlegasse, then south on Limmat Quai toward the terminal. Tucker felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise. He didn’t like Kalil’s body language. He’s on to us.

  First one and then another surveillance team played leap-frog. When Baker dodged down a side street, Tucker went down another and approached Mühlegasse in time to catch a blur of clothing as Kalil swept by. He grabbed his cell and called Baker. “They’re going for the trains.” He broke the connection and hit the quick dial for the lead surveillance team. “Train terminal.”

  Kalil and Maria crossed a small bridge spanning the river and wandered inside the station. Two teams followed them, while another team waited near the entrance. Tucker also slipped in, pulling a black beret from inside his maroon woolen sweater.

  More than a dozen tracks converge inside Zurich’s massive terminal. Below the main floor, trolley tracks wind in and out like so many spaghetti strands amid throngs of passengers streaming through the terminal’s shops. When Kalil and Maria descended a short flight of stairs, they swept past a disheveled, white-haired woman pushing a rag-filled cart. Tucker watched her shuffle along while her voice came over the open phone line. “They go to the stairs. North side, center.”

  Tucker blended with the crowd and descended the staircase. Kalil and Maria were at a ticket machine. Seconds later they headed toward the No. 2 west-bound tram. Tucker glanced at the ticket options and saw that it went to the hilly Farbhof neighborhood, where cows on dairy farms still wore bells around their necks. He bought a ticket and stepped away. From the corner of his eye he saw the semi-deserted tram stop and its doors snap open. He could see them wait until a lone woman and a couple walked aboard, and when the buzzer sounded, they stepped inside. The tram moved immediately with a low rumble. Tucker sat down two cars away. He doubted the Predator’
s ability to follow Kalil now.

  The tram slowed with a squeal of breaks less than a minute later at Stauffacher Station. Tucker watched Kalil and Maria stand before the doors and jump off the instant the tram stopped. Tucker also stepped off. But then too late, he could only watch as they leaped back aboard as the doors closed. He cursed his luck as the tram pulled away.

  Kalil waited until the third stop. “Let’s go.” When the tram departed and nobody else got off, they hurried to the nearest street corner and got a taxi to the airport.

  Maria tugged at his hand. “But who are we fleeing from?”

  Kalil was not sure that they had even been followed, but he gave her the most plausible explanation he could think of. “Creditors. They follow me everywhere. They are vultures.” On reaching the air terminal, they mingled with the crowds. Kalil recalled a girl bumping into him outside the cabaret. He knew about miniature devices, and to be safe, he bought a complete set of clothes including shoes. After changing inside a lav he tossed his old ones into a trash can. An hour later they got another taxi.

  It was almost four when Kalil arrived home. Amahl was awake and sitting inside the musty flat. Kalil blinked in surprise. His father’s hair was now gray, and deep lines etched his once-smooth face. Kalil’s nostrils flared. “They followed me tonight.”

  Amahl nodded. “I had a feeling. When you departed this evening I decided not to take further risks.” He gestured toward his face. “The mask is good, is it not?”

  “Wherever did you find it, father?”

  “I have several.” He paused. “It is time. I must go.”

  Kalil gazed at his father’s new face and asked, “You will leave when?”

  “We will leave at once. Get your automobile.”

  The Aliens Police restored their computer system the next day and identified Kalil’s residence and workplace. Surveillance teams staked out both locations in hopes of catching him. At 3:00 a.m. they quit their watch and a SWAT team crashed through the flat’s door. They didn’t find anyone, but a search team located a thumb drive hidden beneath a loose floorboard. Among the data on it were aerial photographs of the White House and its immediate environs. But what did it mean? Nothing. Everything.

  13

  Levi and his fellow soldiers filed into the mat room for a martial arts class. It was barroom brawling stuff but he participated with forced zeal, scrambling across the mats with obese, out-of-breath white guys. Later, he joked with them as they went to the range. The weather was clear and cool with a light breeze. Birds flew overhead and he smelled a freshness in the air. The men split that air with full-auto assault rifle fire.

  At noon Kruger called the range and summoned Levi. “Tell me more of the war game skills you acquired in the Navy,” he said as Levi entered. “In particular, explain how you would coordinate say, the kidnapping of a CEO as he boards a helicopter that’s landed in the rear yard of his manor.”

  “It all depends on how bad you want him and the security he’s got, but…” Levi outlined four basic scenarios emphasizing command and control. But he pointed out that all the players had to know the goal and the details. While this was true in tightly-bonded SF teams, he suspected that Kruger wasn’t all that sharp and bluffed his way through.

  Then Kruger sat deep in his leather chair. “Now tell me how you could kill him.”

  That night Brenda held a chunk of heroin aloft and raised an eyebrow at Levi. He scratched an armpit and sniffed. “Kruger said I can’t. But I can put a kid in you.” They had sex. Afterward, he flicked a flea from his leg and tumbled into a deep dream in which a distant voice called out, Eric, while a dream-like needle pierced his arm. A needle. He bolted upright. The brown areola of Brenda’s bare breasts loomed large in his face. But his eyes were on the tourniquet around his arm, and the murky contents of the syringe that was sticking out of a swollen vein. “What the hell?”

  “Relax, baby. Mama’s gonna make you feel good.”

  “Why, I oughta…” His eyes bore into hers. “What’re you doin’?”

  “You ain’t supposed to do smack. So, I slam you while you’re groggy.” Brenda deepened her voice. “Honest, sir. I was too frowzy to know.” Then she beamed at him.

  He squinted. “You wouldn’t be jackin’ me around, would you?”

  “Jackin’? Aw, just shut up.” She made eye contact. “Tell me you don’t want it. Go on.” When he said nothing she scoffed, put a finger on the plunger—and pushed.

  He tried to yell no, but the first cold drops of dope hitting his bloodstream took away his breath. The trickle became a torrent. The hard line of his mouth relaxed. Then a new light entered his eyes. “Yeah,” Brenda cooed, “there we go. Mmm…”

  Sensual warmth engulfed him. Releasing a pent-up sigh, he calmly watched her ease the plunger past its mid-point. He was grinning crazily as darkness descended.

  No. He grabbed the syringe and yanked it out. Though woozy, he hurled it like a dart at the far wall, driving it into the plaster. Turning on her, he shouted, “You’re right. I was too sleepy, or I’d a stopped you.” He pondered her startled-doe expression while all else swam in and out of focus. Lying back, he trembled from wondrous sensations until an hour later, when a wave of nausea hit him like a cement truck. It was a common side effect of heroin, and he stumbled into the bathroom to vomit. Afterward, as he examined the bruised needle mark he admitted to liking the drug’s rush—and that scared the crap out of him. In time a fitful slumber took hold. But heroin’s diacetylmorphine was also taking hold, forming tenacious bonds with crucial brain receptors.

  The dawn sun worked its way past the blinds, and as it stabbed his eyes with great malice he felt a pinch in his ankle. His instant thought: she’s injecting me. His eyes snapped open. A large brown rat stared back from atop his foot. Levi executed a snap kick and sent it flying. It hit the ceiling with a squeak, then dropped to the floor with a thud. Levi shuddered and wrapped a protective arm around Brenda. Then as the sun rose higher, he settled against his pillow with a groan.

  SUSAN AWOKE AT DAWN with a sudden moan. She missed Levi’s arms, his smile and most of all his love talk. Then she berated herself for coming to Albuquerque. She had checked every hotel, motel and B&B. None had any record of him as their guest.

  She played tourist by day, but each evening she checked the dance clubs. Seeing an ad for an all-male review she opted to attend; he might’ve resurrected his male stripper days. But she’d found nothing and now lay alone in a bed near the Cottonwood Mall.

  BRENDA CALLED KRUGER LATER and reported her heartfelt attempt to provide Eric with an out so he could shoot up. She described his subsequent anger and went on to discuss his efforts to get her pregnant, adding, “Dumb bastard still thinks I can have kids.”

  TUCKER AND HIS SPLIT RETURNED TO BALTIMORE. They would proceed to Albuquerque and assist Levi’s team, while remaining ready to deploy elsewhere as needed. A major goal was to make Levi aware of what had been found on the thumb drive.

  MICHAEL, DENTZ AND HACK WATCHED the stunning resolution on the laptop’s screen as Levi walked the faultless compound grounds beneath a high-noon sun. Hack examined the reference book and double-checked Levi’s pattern. “Say’s here we’re to prep Dentz for a possible infiltration.”

  Michael nodded. “He’s thinking contingencies.”

  Levi was indeed thinking contingencies. This mission had been polarized from its inception; either Kruger posed a major threat or he was a mere irritant. Levi aimed to find out by stacking the deck. He finished and reported to Doc for a follow-up STD blood test. Afterward, he stepped outside with a fresh needle mark just as Bronk appeared.

  The draft horse of a man gave a gap-toothed smile. “I lose the sling today.”

  Levi engaged him in small talk, but then began pressing for information. It was as if he had thrown a switch: Bronk fixed him with a cold stare and went inside.

  Something was up and Levi wanted to pass a message. That night he put on a flannel shirt with long sleeve
s to hide his arms, buttoning it at the neck only to reveal a bare torso, grunge style. Finally he pulled on a black knit cap, letting his unkempt hair poke out in places. After glancing at Brenda’s writings, he left the filthy cabin for the rancid-smelling Sunset, determined to mend their relationship—and her loyalty. He had a plan in mind: be grateful for last night, but set a condition on repeat performances.

  Entering the bar to a jukebox blaring heavy metal, he spotted Bronk at the pool table, minus the sling. The big man winked as Levi dropped onto a green vinyl stool. When Brenda approached he brightened. “There’s my brilliant babe.”

  Her face flushed red. “Stop it. Whaddya mean, brilliant?”

  “You are,” he teased. “Brilliant, beautiful and a babe. The kinda babe what finds a way for her man to slam.” He paused. “I’m uh, sorry ’bout bein’ so hard on you.” As she stood in pleased surprise he said, “Listen, I’ll be real sleepy from now on when you slip me a needle. Okay?” They shared a private smile, then he asked for a Bud.

  Setting it in front of him, she pointed down the bar at Dentz. “The fellow with the black an’ gray hair? Big moustache? Wants to meet you. I’ll go get him.”

  Dentz joined him and they began talking in-role. Dentz was angry about the unfair job markets and racial impurity. Levi grunted and commiserated for the benefit of hidden mics or lip readers posing as patrons. But when he flicked his eyes to the door, Dentz got up and challenged Bronk to a game, instead. Levi didn’t question his action.

  A minute later however, a long-limbed girl with sun-bronzed skin and violet eyes swept in and sat next to him. A University of New Mexico sweatshirt clung revealingly to her breasts, and her jeans spoke proudly of hips that ached for release. The men turned as one to ogle her as she tapped a long manicured fingernail against Levi’s labret and gave her head a casual toss, sending her dark hair flying. “Love the piercings. Very raffish.”