Cobra Clearance

by Richard Craig Anderson

  Kruger patted Levi’s shoulder. “Come to me. I’ll make sure you have it.”

  “Yeah? ‘Cause I kinda want it.” Good. Now make me dependent upon you.

  “I know you do.”

  “So if you’ll…”

  “In fact, you need heroin and to acquire more you must wear the collar.”

  Levi glared. His hands became fists. “Why’re you doin’ this to me?”

  “Because it’s time I hauled your reins in. Neutered you as I did Brian.”

  Levi said quietly, “You ain’t gettin’ my balls.”

  “Oh, but I already have them.” Reaching into a pocket, he produced a baggie laden by two chunks of heroin and dangled it in Levi’s face. “See? Here they are.”

  He made as if to grab them but stopped. “Kiss my ass. I kin stop anytime I want.”

  “I don’t think so.” Kruger turned to go. “Now let’s get that collar on you.”

  “Shove your collar. I only do junk for kicks, not no friggin’ fix.”

  A brief smile lit Kruger’s face. “I like your chutzpah.” He gave him the baggie. “Come to me when you need more. Now get to work. We haven’t much time.”

  But Levi stood still. “You gonna give me some details? Look, I can’t coordinate if I ain’t in the loop. One foul-up an’ we’re screwed.”

  “I’ve already given you the outline.” Kruger examined some dust on his boots.

  It was time to make a concession in exchange for intel. Levi turned as if to go but stopped. “By the way, I got that nose ring. Big one, like Brian’s.” He would buy a fake ring, the type that clings to the septum without piercing it, mix a little flour with red food coloring, let it congeal, then apply some to his septum—because dried blood would be the norm of a recent piercing. “Couple a days, an’ I’ll be wearin’ it.”

  Kruger made eye contact and said after a few seconds, “Tell you what. I’ll give you the full details during the flight to Maryland. Now get going.”

  Levi got busy. At noon he was walking a nothing-to-report pattern for Avwatch’s cameras when Pete approached and slapped his back. “Saw you puttin’ it to yer bitch the other night.” Chortling, he added, “An’ I heard about Jackson. You’re the man!” He then invited Levi to come with him and do drugs at Bronk’s private quarters.

  A minute later Levi entered a dark room that reeked of rotting pizzas and a broken toilet. Sadistic porn flashed across a TV while Bronk heated some meth at the stove. Pete grinned at Levi. “Let’s chase that dragon, boy!”

  Once again Levi tried valiantly to fake it, but he ended up so high that when Pete suggested they mainline, he reached inside a pocket for his works.

  A loud clattering brought him around two hours later. Nausea threatened but he held it together. God. What’d I do? A fresh mark on his arm, a used syringe on his lap and the open gift packet of heroin told all. He looked about. Pete was sprawled on the couch with his own syringe at his side, thank God. As a black depression took hold, Levi struggled to sit straighter. What did Huey Long say? Politics isn’t badminton? Well neither is this mission, and I’m gonna make this crapola yield some dividends.

  His goal appeared as Bronk walked out of the bathroom and burst into laughter. “He does fifteen mills—an’ he’s awake.” The big man was wired—and talkative.

  Levi rubbed his eyes, and as his wooziness faded he prompted Bronk to talk about the pending attack. But he acquired few details before Bronk lost interest. Levi wanted more, and arranged to meet later at the Sunset. After repacking his works he went home, secretly hoping Pete wouldn’t wait too long before asking him to do drugs again.

  Bronk showed up around nine. They drank beer and played pool and there was money on the table with Bronk leading, but he remained tight-lipped. Monica appeared, but Levi pointedly ignored her until he ran the table with six balls remaining, then sent the eight ball crashing into a corner pocket with a satisfying thunk. Still feeling down, he collected his winnings and told Bronk, “Her an’ me are outta here.”

  The leviathan pointed a sausage-like finger at Levi. “I’ll stop by later.” Then he leered at Monica. “Maybe she’ll need some tucking in.”

  Levi grinned and flipped him the bird, then grabbed Monica’s wrist and hurried her to the cabin. After sweeping it for bugs he sat next to her on the couch and spoke in a low murmur. “I’ve got more intel. Paid a big price for it, though. Okay. The dump truck’s a red and white ’94 Mack. Open bed. Crew of four.” Next, he described a recon trip to the White House during which Kruger chose an intersection for the truck to fire from, and had Bronk spray-paint symbols on the curb to mark the optimal firing position. Levi frowned. “Kruger loves redundancy. Might’ve selected an alternate site.”

  “I’d bet on it.” Her nose crinkled. “How do you stand this foul hovel? The floor’s cruddy—I can’t imagine going shoeless here.” She pointed at the bed. “And that soiled mattress. You’ve been sleeping on it? With only that nasty sheet over you?”

  He grunted. “I’ve been making babies on that damn thing.”

  “That’s why I’m here—to prevent more pregnancies.” She glanced at the bed and grimaced. “Your black eye’s better but you look like crap. How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” But he knew he wasn’t. “Ah, hell. Who am I kidding? One morning I woke up and found a rat on my…” He shuddered. “There’s the drugs, the lurid sex.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not upset about last night, are you? Look, I’m fine.”

  “We were actors on a sound stage.” He blew air from his cheeks. “But…”

  “But it kills you to be nasty toward women even when it’s illusion. Hell, Levi. You’re every gal’s dream. The Natural Man.” Her mouth puckered. “Although I for one am able to resist your charms.”

  “You sure know how to make a guy feel grand.” He flashed a grin, then got quiet.

  She crossed her long legs and let her foot jangle. A motorcycle roared past the cabin, its exhaust popping as the driver evidently slowed. She said quietly, “I know you. Better than you might imagine. Now spill it. What’s really wrong?”

  Feeling sick to the core of his soul, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The short answer hasn’t changed since last night. It’s the heroin. Only now I’m in trouble.” Though his pride was wounded he met her eyes. “My whole being craves it; one of those cases of instant, absolute addiction you hear about. I knew it could happen, just not like this.” He shook his head in wonder. “Humph, look at me now; sharing needles, chasing the dragon—and mainlining when that doesn’t do it for me.”

  She tapped his needle and track marks. “How many of these are real?”

  “Most. I’ve already developed a tolerance, too.” Absently taking off his shirt and shoes, he said self-mockingly, “But I ain’t hooked. I kin stop anytime I want.”

  She touched his hand. “How can I help?”

  “Let the team know. I’ll need their help.” He scowled. “Coke doesn’t faze me. But once I had a taste of heroin, man that was it. Now I invent reasons to do more. For the job, of course.” He laughed cynically. “I was so damned sure I could handle it.”

  “Welcome to Earth.”

  “Never thought I was Superman.” He squinted. “And since I’m not, listen up. Kruger’s fueling my addiction for reasons of his own. I think I know why so I’m going along with it. But if it gets outta hand I might need someone to…”

  “Just call if you’re alone when you need a fix. I’ll come and sit with you. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Recalling another friend’s non-judgmental vow, he studied her anew. On one level her skin was flawless, the high cheekbones seductive; her breasts alluring. But on the higher level he felt her warmth, knew her depth; sensed her soul. On impulse he drew her into his arms. Her hands felt fresh against his bare back, her scent intoxicating. “Thanks for being my friend,” he said, and eased her away. But she held onto him. His breath caught. He didn’t want this. He searched her eye
s, but saw only a friend’s violet eyes staring back. He nodded. So did she, and after she pecked his cheek he said, “Ditto for that.”

  She smiled endearingly and said, “Chill out.”

  “Okay. I deserved that.” He grinned, then gave her a direct look. “Bronk’s certain to drop by; probably my engaging new girlfriend, too. It’s your call.”

  “Plan B.” She slipped her shoes off and checked her wig. “Let’s do it.”

  “Watch the fleas,” he warned as they undressed completely. After they got in bed he pulled the flimsy sheet up but left the bedside lamp on.

  They spoke quietly of other things while waiting for Bronk, since he had to “see” that Levi had bedded her. Then it was 3:00 a.m. He hadn’t appeared but still might, so Levi killed the light and they turned onto their sides to get some sleep.

  The shakes and the sweats hit later. Monica held him while he shivered and his teeth chattered, then toweled him when he lay atop the sheet drenched in sweat. When it got worse and showed no signs of abating, she asked if he wanted relief. Doubled-up in pain, his eyes shut tight, he said, “Yeah—and hurry.” But when she moved to prepare an injection he gripped her wrist and shook his head. Once it passed, she soothed his forehead with a damp towel until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

  In their sleep they migrated to each other, waking at dawn in an embrace. Neither of them felt flustered and Monica declared it good for both their souls. He agreed, and slid a hairy knee between her smooth legs for comfort. After she nestled her lovely cheek in the crook of his arm they languished free and easy, talking as friends while he absently ran the pad of his big toe up and down her silky calves. Later, when she patted his rear affectionately and draped an arm around his waist, he buried his nose in the base of her throat and inhaled deeply. “I love your smell.”

  “Hmm. I like that.” She touched cool fingertips to his cheek and stared at him.

  He squinted, then propped himself up on an elbow. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. Granted, we’re becoming soul mates. But that’s where it ends.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re actors on a stage. Remember?” Her hand tightened around his. “And it’s time for our big love scene.”

  His brows knitted in a frown. “And then?”

  “Then we move on.”

  “No. We don’t. Because we’re not…” But she was already urging him onto his back. He resisted at first, until an unspoken message flashed between them. Then he understood her need because it mirrored his own, and he grasped the gift that’s offered when a global threat thrusts two people into intimate proximity. He let go of it all, and yielding to the gentle pressure of her hands, he lay back and took her with him. Her lips went briefly to his, then with a winsome smile she laid her head atop the death skulls on his chest and dozed off.

  His release was total—he’d read her correctly and now basked in the texture of her skin against his. Closing his eyes, he caressed the back of her neck, loving the fine hairs he found there—but accepting that like an old married couple whose relationship was never consummated yet provides succor nonetheless, they at least had each other. Now he had a genuine friend to indulge in affable pillow talk with. Now he felt restored. And for the first time in three years he felt something else. Hope.

  He also felt a consuming desire for heroin. He pushed past it.

  When she finally stirred he nuzzled her ear. “Mmm. Did I tell you that I also love your warmth?” He kissed the top of her head and stretched cat-like, then got up naked to make coffee while she dressed. When it was ready he pulled on pants and offered her a cup. Afterwards they stepped outside under reedy clouds that signaled the vanguard of a frontal system moving in from the west. He asked, “Same time tonight?”

  Instead of answering, she whirled and embraced him. “Nine o’clock,” she said in a low, clipped voice.

  Levi flicked his eyes to his nine. Potts was behind the wheel of a dark van beneath a copse of dogwood at the far end of the cabins, smoking; watching. He had headphones on and Levi thought he saw a directional mic of some sort aimed at them. His guts twisted. Did he hear us inside? He pushed away from Monica. “Okay, see ya at nine.”

  After watching Monica drive off, he went inside to sketch his next moves.

  Levi finished lunch and was leaving the mess hall when Kruger stormed toward him. “Who the hell have you been talking to? And I am not referring to the woman seen leaving your cabin this morning.” He slashed a hand through the air. “Come with me.”

  After an insulting pause Levi said, “Well okay—sir,” and matched Kruger’s rapid strides toward the office. Potts was seated near the desk as they stormed inside.

  Kruger asked straight away, “Who is Michael Bailey?”

  “Only Michael I know is this dude what’s been hanging ’round the Sunset.” He felt the .45 pressing against the small of his back. He would attack Potts first.

  A subdued Kruger pointed to a chair next to his desk. “Sit.”

  To sustain his image as a doper and not an agent—and both identities fit him now—he plopped onto the chair so that his works spilled out onto the floor. The used syringe rolled and hit Kruger’s shoe.

  Kruger picked it up and handed it to Levi. “I want that ring in your nose today. Is that clear?” When Levi nodded, Kruger sat and gestured at Potts. “He spends his time smoking, watching and waiting. Another night he saw you outside the Sunset talking to a tall blonde man. After seeing a confrontation of sorts, he lifted prints from his truck.”

  He must mean the night I told Michael to expedite getting Monica to stand in as my main babe. And yeah, I struck my fist against my hand. Levi shrugged.

  Kruger rolled a pencil between his fingertips. “What took place, and why?”

  Levi looked back with a combination of defiance and stupidity. “I went out for some air. The dude came out an’ hit on me. Said he was married but swung both ways.”

  A silence followed. Levi knew his salvo had caused them to change course.

  Kruger cleared his throat. “But you’d seen him around? You know him?”

  “Don’t know his last name. Only know him as Mike, and…” “Michael,” Potts interrupted. “He does not like to be called Mike.”

  Levi leaped to his feet. “Hey, you bloodless bastard. Who’s telling this story?”

  “Settle down,” Kruger growled, though it was obvious that he’d already taken Levi’s side. “Then what?”

  “Then nothing. I told him to bug off an’ went back inside. After that I spent the night bonin’ the hell outta this babe I been seein’.” He looked from Kruger to Potts and back again.

  The look on the two men’s faces told him he had scored a direct hit.

  Kruger scowled and said in a voice brimming with distaste, “His name is Michael Bailey. Retired police captain. We think he now works for the Feds. ATF perhaps.” He said as an aside, “Last month we acquired a large amount of Semtex. My supplier is rock-solid, but sometimes rainwater seeps into even the strongest boulder and splits it.”

  “Bailey’s married to a Jew.” Potts put an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “He’s also got children. By custom that makes them Jewish children.”

  Levi shot Kruger a crafty look. “If he’s working a case against us I’ll ice him.”

  Kruger formed his fingertips into a tent and held them against his lips. “It might come to that.” He tilted his head to one side. “See? This is why we have Mr. Potts.”

  Potts said primly. “I leave nothing unchecked.”

  Levi didn’t doubt it—Potts even knew of Michael’s disdain for Mike. He needed to alert his friend. Nadia and the boys could be in danger. He saw an opening and seized it. “We done here now?”

  “Almost. This fellow might not be a Fed. Let’s keep an eye on him for now and see what he’s after—besides you, that is.” He was interrupted by his cell, but when he glanced at the caller ID his expression changed from mild detachment to shock.

  He answered
it. While listening, his face went through a range of emotions, from alertness to distress. At the end of the conversation he muttered, “Change of plans. We attack in two days.” He looked at both men and growled, “Total lockdown. The entire compound, and I mean now.”

  Kruger took Levi’s cell and slid it into a desk drawer along with his own, then looked into his adjutant’s eyes. “I see you’re armed. Good. Kill anyone who bolts.”

  Potts turned peevish as he handed over his cell. “Is all this necessary?”

  “Affirmative. Total COMSEC. I’ll have Bronk and Pete collect all cell phones.”

  Levi planted his hands on Kruger’s desk and leaned toward him. “Hey. You gonna friggin’ tell us what’s goin’ on? Or do we play guessing games?”

  Speaking briskly, Kruger said, “We’re going forward. We leave tomorrow.”

  Potts frowned. “Going forward where?”

  Kruger’s face got a strange light. “The White House—to kill Cohen.”

  As Potts’ eyes grew wide, Kruger explained. “That was Amahl. He thinks he’s being watched. That’s why he broke my ironclad rule and called me here, and on my own cell.” He clucked his tongue. “No matter. Lockdowns are SOP prior to any mission.” He dropped his voice. “We locked down prior to Melchior’s removal, and we’d have done so before the eighth of May.” He tapped Levi’s arm. “Get ready. You and I are going to Cottonwood for a more secure confab. We leave in thirty minutes.”

  Levi had to get word to Dragon Team about the change of plans and the possible threat to Michael’s family. He rushed to the barracks to get his jacket, and feeling Brian’s dog collar in the pocket he pushed it down deeper. It was almost noon but the clouds had dropped to five hundred feet. That hamstrung a visual signal through Avwatch, since even its FLIR couldn’t penetrate condensation. Nor could he call the team even if he had a cell, due to the compound’s emission sensors. That left two options. One was the SAT phone. The other required discipline, fortified by luck and a dash of insider knowledge concerning Avwatch’s capabilities. That’s why I’ve got a cobra clearance.