by Tony Lavely
Not quite an hour later, the base in Surab was bustling with activity. Fabien had begun work on the hostile in the truck; when he had stabilized him, Beckie’s face was next. He laughed when she told him about Millie grabbing the plastic surgeon every time she’d gotten a scratch, and then proceeded to drag her nose back into approximately its former shape. He closed a couple of the wounds along her cheek and eyelid with stitches and bandages. She was grateful that most only needed a dressing and bandage.
The next move was the phone. She’d handed it to Tarquin before Fabien began pushing and sewing; it was time to see what he’d ferreted out of it.
“Four or five numbers, two of which have been used in the past week. Else is searching her databases for owners of not only those numbers, but this phone’s too.” He glanced at the clock. “Said it’d be a few minutes… wrong time of day, there, I guess.”
“Yeah. About five AM, I guess. Where are the numbers registered?”
“Not that it says much, but one is in France and a second, Monaco… which is where this phone’s number is from, too. Another two are here in Pakistan, we think, and the last is probably Syria.”
“Wonder who’s picking up his roaming charges,” Beckie mused. Then she remembered. “Have you gotten to imaging the valley wall to the north of the site? Around to the east?”
He spun in his chair to reach his keyboard. A spate of typing and he glared at the three monitors circling the station. “Not yet. Why?”
“Let’s move the drones there. A weapons cache is hidden there unless…” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder where Fabien was working on the hostile’s leg. “… he’s a better actor than anyone I’ve seen. Ask Else to do her magic on the new ones first; let the rest go for the time being. And when you or she find something, let Lyeka know about it.”
If she hadn’t seen the images change, she’d have worried that he was ignoring her. He was aggressively paying her no mind; she took herself to the kitchen for a coffee.
Leonid handed her a cup filled with steaming dark fluid. When she sipped, his sweet hot tea rolled over her tongue. “You know, Lyeka, I could get to like this stuff.” She sipped again, then cringed when it hit a cut inside her mouth. “The thing we’ve been looking for? It might be a cache of weapons. I pointed Tark at where it might be; he and Else will survey there before doing anything. I want to have some idea where before you go over the crest of the hill like gangbusters.”
“You do want us to investigate?”
“Secondary to keeping the team and the client secure, yes. I still have no clue who the weapons are for, or who they’d be used against.”
“The problem with lethal force.”
“Indeed. However, I am alive to tell the tale. It would be nice—”
“I thought Tark was doing the phone?”
“Actually, Else has that, tracking down the numbers and owners and where they might be.”
“Hmm. The gun. What happened?”
“You have it?”
He handed it to her. After checking the magazine and the chamber, she pointed to the safety. “Someone like Pieter or Juri has to verify, but the plunger tube looks broken, so the thumb safety doesn’t work. You have to force it off to fire. I guess he didn’t know about that problem.”
They talked for a little more about the M1911 workshop Pieter had given Beckie and Beth in January until Tarquin interrupted from his workspace: “Mrs. Jamse, can you come by?”
With an ironic smile to Leonid, she rose and hurried to his desk. “What you got?”
“Else’s message.” He pointed to his center monitor.
She read the message through. “Beckie, Tarquin. The phone you have is registered to a trading company in Monaco. The address is a street near the French border. They’ve been paying the bill regularly, so there’s that. Of course, you know where the phone is now. No records of where it’s been until it showed up in the call logs yesterday, a little after noon your time. He called the most frequently called number.
“That number belongs to the same trading company, but the phone last was used in France, about twenty kilometers north and east of the airport at Nice. A village named Peillon. It’s also four or five kilometers from Monaco, though it looks like it’d take an hour to drive. Google it, you’ll see what I mean.
“The second most popular number also belongs to that trading company, but it hasn’t been used for a while, and the last report had it in Iran. I can call it and see where it shows up.
“Tschüss. Let me know what else to look for, besides magic hidden doors in mountainsides.
“Oh, yeah. When you get a minute, give me a call on the secure link.”
“Hmmm.” Beckie frowned and quickly winced. “Fabien, may I have some of those pain killers I refused?”
He pitched a small bottle through the door and Leonid caught it. “No more than one at a time, and no more than four a day. Wait! You’re not still breast feeding?”
“No; I couldn’t get him to agree to come along. Why?”
“If you try and start up again, wait at least seventy-two hours after the last one you take.”
“Will do. Thanks.” So I won’t take very many. And I’ll ask another time how come he’s so familiar with this drug and nursing mothers.
Leonid handed her one with a gulp of water, and then the bottle to slip into a pocket.
“Okay.” Beckie said before facing Tarquin. “Tell her thanks, and work on the magic door. You, too. And thanks! Also,” she said, wanting to frown again, “tell her I’ll call as soon as I get a chance.”
To Leonid, she said, “Nice. Again. A trip to the south of France might be in order.”
He was leaning against the wall, smirking. “We’ll hold the fort here. Unless you want one of us—”
“Ha! Do I want? Yes. Am I going to take from you? No! Especially since I have no idea what we’re going to find there, if anything.”
Leonid laughed. “Okay, then. Tell me when you need to be at the airport.”
She made a quick call to Boynton, and then Derek. “Derek, love, I’m on my way. Maurice is booking me from here to Nice. Charter’s too difficult to arrange in zero time, so I’ll fly either Emirates or Turkish Airlines tomorrow morning. They both arrive early afternoon.”
“I’ll meet you. Do we want more ’ands ’ere?”
“If you’ve got a friend, sure. I think all of the team are too far away to arrive… Wait! I’ll bet I can get Willie—”
“Is Amy ready?”
“Yeah, but she’s got Ralf and three or four non-combatants… But her crew can take care of Ralf… I’ll talk to Sam, too, since… I’ll bet Karen and Millie are on the way to Syria. Maybe they can stop off.”
Derek chuckled his familiar English chortle. “You’ll ’ave a right crew ’ere. So while I wait?”
Beckie almost smiled, but remembered the painful experience of frowning. “Else tracked the one call made from here to a place called… Let me spell it. P-E-I-L-L-O-N. Supposed to be…” She looked back at the monitor and Else’s message. “…about 20 kilometers from the Nice airport… Did you find anything at the Museum?”
“No, they all gave standard, business-like answers. I’ll finish with the last guy, then ’ead out to Peillon and see what I can see.”
“Cool. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter VIII: South of France
One: A Visit to Peillon
BECKIE MADE THE TRIP between Karachi and Nice pretty much asleep. “Good thing nothing happened,” she told Derek.
“Nothing much at the museum, either,” he said as she followed him out of the terminal. “But what door did you walk into?”
“Huh?” He gestured at his face and she reached for hers before realizing what he meant. “A brief disagreement with a man whose temper overruled his sense.” She gave him a grim chuckle. “What do they say? You should see the other guy.”
He gave her a look she could only categorize as disbelieving.
App
roaching the car, she stopped short, then ran. Amy was the first one she saw, because she’d talked to her… expected her, even. But almost hiding behind Amy was Lisa. Beckie prepared herself to go off on both of them when Sam, Millie, Ben and Gillian hopped out of a second car. And then, Willie unfolded himself and walked up to give her a hug. “My God, what are you guys all doing here?”
“Don’t worry, Beckie,” he said. “This posse isn’t here cause of you… more because of… you know.”
“Of course,” she said, although she wasn’t sure his words were a comfort. “And don’t worry, I’ll share that in a minute. Is there anyone else?”
“Karen’s gone round to the ’otel…” Derek said. “Making the assumption that tonight, we’ll need one.” He opened the one car door that had remained closed. “’Op in, and we’ll stop at a nice coffee shop on the way to Peillon; talk about the plan.”
In the car, she braced Amy about Ralf.
“He’s fine, really,” the girl said. “Patrice almost pushed us out of the plane, he was so anxious to get back in the air. He only said he’d be in touch, so we’ll just have to wait.”
“Why…”
“In addition to Ralf and Angel, he has Kerry, Solène and Cori. None of them—none but Kerry, anyway—good in a fight. So he got them away before… Well, before I could change my mind and drag one of them along.”
Beckie laughed. The idea of Amy doing a thing like that was more than amusing, it was hilarious. “Good for him. What were you saying about him saving your butt, earlier?”
“Oh, that’s right! I never told you. Well. About an hour after we left Nassau, he got on the speaker and said ‘Grab the babies and buckle in real good.’ And then the plane started to do all these weird maneuvers that… well, Kerry and Cori were both sick before it was over. I would’ve been but I was too terrified and holding Ralf for all I was worth, like Angel was with Ethian.” She looked over at Beckie. “I didn’t believe it; Solène was like she was on a roller-coaster or… or one of those mechanical bulls! Yelling, hanging on like the seatbelt was the rope on a bronco, letting the plane toss her up and down.
“It went on a couple minutes, then we leveled off and Patrice came back, his face white as a ghost. He started in French, but I guess our confused looks gave that away; he switched to English and said ‘They fired a missile at us! A God-damn missile! Thank God it was stupid; I just had to shut down the engines then stay away long enough for it to detonate. Didn’t you hear it?’ I told him that between Ralf and Ethain’s screaming and Solène’s Yah-hoo’ing, we couldn’t hear much of anything, even the engines.”
Beckie’s mind was racing; her heart matching it while her stomach was twisting itself in knots.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have said all that,” Amy said, staring at her.
Beckie forced herself to settle down. Not Amy’s fault. “Yeah, you should have. For both of us. When I get my bag, I’ll show you why I was so glad to hear your ringtone.” She heaved a sigh. “Was Angel as excited after that?”
Amy laughed. “She was okay once everything smoothed out and Ethian and Ralf calmed down. We didn’t share anything beyond what Patrice had shouted. But you should probably talk to her; help her understand that we aren’t usually so close to the action.”
Less consequential discussion filled the next ten minutes, until Derek parked outside the coffeeshop he’d promised. Inside, it was empty except for a young couple at one end. He grabbed the manager and pressed a handful of euros on her. “We’d like you to close for the next ’our or so. A rental, sort of. ’Ide in the back unless we rap on the door for something. Those people will be fine if they stay over there. Please tell them I’ve covered their check.”
Wide-eyed didn’t begin to describe the woman’s expression, and Beckie smiled internally at the ideas that must have been swimming through her mind. He handled that better than I would have.
She stopped as she remembered that she’d promised to call Else on the secure link. No… I’ll do that later. With a look, Amy had stopped with her, together they slipped through the door to the shop.
Beckie looked around. Willie and Sam had pushed tables together; Gillian and Ben had ordered coffee, tea and pastries for everyone. Derek finished with the manager just as Lisa began laying photos and other papers on the table. Derek took Beckie’s elbow and directed her to a seat in the center of the group.
“Before you got ’ere—”
Beckie stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Just a second, please.” She scanned her team, meeting each one’s eyes. With a nod, she began. “First, thanks to all of you for answering the call. Second, I owe Derek here an explanation he’s been gracious enough to wait for. Some of the rest of you, too.” She took a deep breath and shivered a little. “We got information that said Ian and Kevin were alive as of March, at least.” She went through the letter and web site and the van in Coronado, bringing them all up to speed. “So, with that in mind… You can start again, Derek.”
“Wow! Never thought… So… Okay, before you got ’ere, we took a few minutes to choose ’ow we’d tell you and then plan a bit.” He picked up a short stack of papers and leafed through them. “Courtesy of Else, Google and who knows who else. There might be satellite images that ordinary people should never see. Take a look.”
She pushed away the recollection of the last time she’d perused photos, and took them. My God, she thought, it’s beautiful! “Is this… Peillon?”
“The old city, yes,” Derek said. “There’s a slightly more modern village off to the west of this…” He pointed to the picture of stone and masonry buildings piled atop each other soaring alongside the peak of a mountain. “… but this is what we’re concerned with.” He tapped the rest of the pile. “Look through them all. We’ve seen them.”
The images showed a medieval fortified village built into or atop, she couldn’t tell from the photos, a mountain. Trees and rocks, almost sheer faces fell away from the side she could see.
When she got to a close-up view of one of the buildings, Derek said, “According to the location information from the call your man made, the phone he talked to was… well, that building is in the center of the circle of uncertainty.”
A commotion at the door took her eye; Karen came through and joined them. Sam updated her in hushed tones.
Beckie turned back to the image Derek still touched. A sloped roof topped a structure that appeared to be part of the tower it abutted. A couple small windows had been cut in the wall; they looked out over a long, precipitous drop.
The picture made her almost as uncomfortable as… “This is pretty much a fishing expedition, you know.” Derek nodded first, but the others agreed. “Okay. Our goal? It’s to find out what’s going on. If… If Ian and Kevin are there, well, best outcome. If they’re not, let’s go for someone who knows where they are. Or something, at least.” Again, the others agreed.
She touched the photo again. “So, how do we go in? It’s only missing the cable car from that Clint Eastwood movie… What was it called… Something about eagles.”
“No, not going in that way, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Derek chuckled under his breath. “We’ll walk in, since Jean-Luc and Patrice and their ’elicopters aren’t to ’and.”
She was flipping back and forth between the photo showing the building and the satellite map view. “Hard to imagine a better place… for them, anyway.”
“Right enough, though I suppose they could ’ave found any number of medieval towns and buildings to lurk in,” he said.
“Yeah, but what I really meant was the drop off behind that building. It must be the steepest one in the town.”
“But look at this, Beckie,” Amy said. “Looks like that building, the one Derek mentioned, is either part of or right near a church. Place d l’Eglise. Church Square, or Place, says Lisa.”
Beckie snapped a glance at the younger girl. “What?” said Amy. “You know Spanish is my second language.”
&
nbsp; Beckie retorted with a grin, then said, “Good work, all of you. And Else—”
“That’s a dead cert,” Derek said. “She’s done the ’eavy lifting so far. It’s our turn now.”
“Okay, so what’s the plan?”
Derek had spent the afternoon and then the next morning walking the old village. “No cars, as you might ’ave guessed. Stairways most places. Cobblestones to turn your ankle on, so take care when we get there. Now,” he said, fixing Amy and Lisa with a stern gaze, “Amy and Lisa will drive us up to the fountain at the entrance, then take the cars back down the ’ill a bit, so the obvious rentals don’t bring us unwanted attention.”
Beckie turned to confirm that they were willing if not happy about the assignment. “Okay, takes care of two of us.” She turned back to Amy. “You take care of each other and be ready when Derek calls.
“I assume you’re on point, Derek. You’ve certainly got the most time on the ground here.”
“If you like, Mrs. Jamse. I can turn it over to you, or Sam or Willie—”
“No need, Derek. Unless you—”
“I’m good. So, Ben and Gillian make a couple; Sam and Karen make another. Millie can go with Willie, rhyming all the way. And that leaves you and I. We can all wander around being amazed by the twelfth and thirteenth century architecture and buildings.”
“How about a place to grab dinner?”
“That’s Willie, always making sure we’re taken care of,” Beckie said with a laugh.
“After,” Derek said. “We’ll wander about, keeping in touch, working our way to the back of the church. Beckie and I will arrive first and survey.” He handed around maps of the town. “Here’s a set of different paths you all can take, Don’t forget, with less than fifteen ’undred people living there, they likely know everyone by sight if not by name. We’ll stick out… Well, except for Ben and Gillian.”
Beckie had wondered about the working peasant look the two had adopted, but it should serve them well.