by Adam Hiatt
Couple all that with his life as a clandestine operator and it became quickly apparent that there wasn't much stability in Reddic's life. At some point he would have to settle down and contemplate his priorities. These past couple days spent with Brooke seemed to have created a pause in his approach to life. Instead of his common tunnel-vision focus on the here and now, his mind began to drift off into future hypothetical possibilities. He shook his head and inhaled deeply. He needed to compartmentalize these thoughts. Losing focus for even a second was a recipe for disaster.
Having cleared his head, he pulled the blinds back with his hand to catch a glimpse of the courtyard below. He immediately took notice of a man of moderate build walking casually with his head down. He ambled over to a door on the opposite side of the courtyard and rang a doorbell. The signal was answered by the occupant of the building within a few seconds. Reddic watched the conversation from afar studying their body language for any indication of intent.
Under normal circumstances he would have no reason to be suspicious. In previous trips to the safe house he had witnessed many Parisians and tourists alike stumble into the courtyard expecting it to be an offshoot of the famed RUE DE LA PAIX, or at the minimum, a through street. But there was something that just wasn't right about the scene he was observing. Maybe if was the morning hour or the dark clothing that this man was wearing, he didn’t quite know, but he intended to find out.
Trying not to distract his brother's progress translating the document, Reddic quietly extracted the miner's lamp from his backpack and handed it to Jaxon.
“Put this on,” he said. “I'm going to turn off the lights and look out the window for a while.”
Jaxon took the headlamp without argument and continued working. Reddic extinguished the lights and returned to the window. He crouched down to one knee and parted the bottom corner of the blinds, again peering across the courtyard. To his surprise the man he was scrutinizing only moments earlier was no longer there.
Reddic searched every square foot of the area below looking for any sign of activity. A knot formed in his stomach as his eyes fell to the door to his building just below the window. Standing outside was the same man from across the courtyard. He seemed to be studying the door, as if he were suspicious of what could possibly be waiting for him on the other side.
Feeling his heart rate begin to elevate, Reddic closed the blinds and took it all in. He cleared his mind and quickly replayed the events of the evening. He had checked their belongings twice already, so he was certain that there were no tracking devices on either him or Jaxon. With that being the case, there could only be one other explanation. Somebody had spotted and followed them.
The realization that they had been followed, and now found, presented another problem. Who could be following them? As far as he was concerned their presence in France was covert, as he arrived using an alias. There was nobody waiting for them at the airport and nobody followed them in the taxi. The only other place where they were exposed was at Ile de la Cite in front of the cathedral. Reddic searched his memory for any indication that they were marked while in the courtyard, but his mind came up blank. There were just too many places to hide in and around the massive monument.
Reddic cursed himself for being so cavalier with his preparation. There was simply no time to secure the area beforehand, something that he would have performed without hesitation in any other circumstance. The cloak of anonymity and stealth, together with the fact that time was not on their side, contributed to the rare lack of judgment. Now his carelessness might have them in harm's way.
However, if there was one thing that he learned through sports that has aided him in the world of espionage it was the concept of “next play”. The notion was easy to say, but harder to live. It was a concept that drove the mentality that irrespective of the outcome of a possession or play or decision, whether good or bad, one's mind should always be in the present. Brooding over the past or obsessing about the future was a fool’s game. Learning from mistakes and failures, or even successes can occur later, but one's inability to move on to the next play in the moment caused mental paralysis, and in the sports world, that pathway always led to losses.
He glanced at his brother and knew what had to be done. Their position had been compromised. It would be foolish to remain in the apartment and hope that this man would simply go away. Like a hound in the woods he was onto their scent and would not stop until he had his quarry contained. Reddic started to formulate a plan in his mind when a thought suddenly occurred to him.
It was counterintuitive, but perhaps he potentially held a slight advantage in the scenario. If he and Jaxon were indeed spotted at the cathedral, it had to have been pure coincidence. There was no chance they were followed from the United States. Not even Madison Jenkins knew where they were going. There had to be another explanation for the sudden appearance of this man. He must have witnessed them removing the parchment from underneath the Point Zero plaque and followed them here.
If that were the case, then this prowler would undoubtedly need to verify what they had in their possession and interrogate them as to what they knew. Reddic felt a measure of optimism. He knew that if the objective were to eliminate them then their options would be limited, but in this development, he might just turn out to be the aggressor.
He stole another glance at his brother and watched him scribble furiously on his notepad. It would be a major risk to leave Jaxon in the apartment to finish his translation while he dealt with the intruder, but in Reddic’s mind, there was no other way. Jaxon would be a greater liability outside. With that thought in mind, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the back bedroom.
“Jaxon,” he whispered. “I need to go check on something. Stay here and finish your work.”
Jaxon either didn’t hear him or was ignoring him. Either way, it was time to move. Reddic slipped into the darkness of the bedroom and disappeared.
35
Cushman held the handle to President Rutherford’s office and stealthily cracked the door open to steal a peek. The president was still on a phone call but appeared to be wrapping it up. Cushman entered the Oval Office and stood to the side of the desk waiting for the conversation to formally conclude. He watched in silence as Rutherford put the phone in its cradle and jot down a few notes.
“I have a report on Madison Jenkins,” Cushman said, breaking the silence. “It’s what I suspected.”
With those words the president’s head shot up, locking eyes with his chief of staff.
“This better be rock solid or we’re going to have a problem,” Rutherford stated, pointing his finger at Cushman.
“James, I waited to deliver this report until I had double confirmation.” Cushman always used the president’s first name when he wanted to make a strong point. Apart from his wife and those closest to him, no other person ever used it. In times like these, it held significant weight.
“It appears that Jenkins was the individual that was aiding Professor Hansen all along,” he said.
“You’ll need to give me more than that.”
“The team that found Hansen also found Jenkins in her company. When the team announced their intentions of bringing Hansen into safe custody Jenkins resisted with force. The team and Hansen barely escaped with their lives.”
The president’s eyes were wide, but still filled with a hint of doubt. Cushman knew he had to push him over the edge.
“Two men were shot and are in critical condition,” Cushman added. The lie seemed to have its proper impact, as Rutherford’s head started to sag in defeat.
“Where is Jenkins now?” he asked. “I want to speak with her.”
“I’m afraid her whereabouts are unknown. But Hansen is safe and is progressing with her research now that she knows who to trust. It is best to keep her secluded until she is finished. I fear Jenkins will continue to interfere if Hansen is on the move.”
“That’s it, I want the FBI brought in on this immediately,�
�� the president exploded. “They can put the physicist in witness protection until Jenkins is found.”
“Sir, I would strongly advise against that,” Cushman said calmly. “Jenkins is still the acting director of EOS. She has access to all the FBI’s databases. It would be easier for us just to hand Hansen over to her if we allow the FBI to intervene.”
The president considered his chief of staff’s counsel. As usual he was accurate in his assessment of the situation. He had a feeling that Cushman wasn’t revealing everything, but what he had disclosed did not look good for Jenkins.
“All right,” Rutherford conceded. “We will do this your way, for now. But I want updates on the project, and I want Madison Jenkins found and apprehended before she can do any more damage to my administration.”
Cushman nodded in satisfaction and turned to leave the room. Everything was going according to plan. He knew it was only a matter of time before Jenkins was finally out of his way.
36
Jenkins finished explaining the plan to Brooke in sign language. It was a laborious task, as her sign language was a bit rusty, but more importantly, they had to keep up a steady dialogue simultaneously to complete the ruse. Her mind was exhausted from the mental gymnastics.
The plan itself was simple in nature. Jenkins knew that they both were still alive because whoever the Priest was, he wanted Hansen’s research, and to know what assets Jenkins had mobilized. She explained to Brooke that sooner or later the men would return and take her away. She needed to agree to finish her research to industry standards.
“I’m scared,” Brooke said aloud. Jenkins nodded for her to continue the deception. “What do these people want? Don’t they know that I’ll do anything to just go home?”
“What if they ask you to finish your research and hand it over?” Jenkins asked. “Would you do it?”
“At this point, I don’t care anymore. My research has brought nothing but trouble. I would gladly give it away.”
The table was set, and Jenkins knew that time was short. She explained to Brooke that it was imperative that she work in good faith to advance her project, but that she come up with constant minor setbacks to buy more time. Jenkins had no idea where Reddic was, but she needed to give him enough time to find them. If he failed to do so, then all hope was lost.
More important than anything else, Jenkins explained in sign language, was that Brooke needed to send a message to Reddic. Jenkins knew she would more than likely remain in this room until they decided they didn’t need her anymore. She would have no access to any electronics, and therefore, would be in no position to communicate with her top operator. Brooke, on the other hand, would need her laptop to work on her project. She was the only one that could perform the task.
Jenkins removed her necklace and handed it to Brooke to put on. The necklace was simple. It was a silver chain holding a small, blue sapphire pendant. The sapphire was no ordinary jewel, Jenkins explained. It doubled as a wireless modem that would provide her with an ultra-secure internet access, enabling her to send an electronic message covertly.
There was no doubt that Brooke would be monitored at all times. It would be impossible for her to simply open a webpage and access her email account. Hence the pendant. It was programmed to send a message with the right command prompt. All Brooke would have to do was type the short, coded message anywhere on her computer, highlight it, and punch in the command and it would be posted on an anonymous message board that she had set up for her operatives. While out on assignments her team was to check the message board as often as possible for any posts, especially when a significant time without direct communication with her passed.
The pendant was an ingenious device that was developed by the CIA while she was working there. When she was asked to run EOS, she took the necklace with her and had a technician program it. She set up the message board and used it from time to time, but most of its content was inane blather created by some high school kids that she had on payroll. If anybody stumbled upon the message board, they would quickly pass over the ridiculousness without suspicion.
Each of her operatives had certain code words that they would recognize in a post. That was why it was imperative that Brooke use the exact phrase that she had given her. Any deviation would fail to spring Reddic into action. It was a gamble on her part to ask this of Brooke, but there simply was no other choice. However, the fact that Brooke was an intelligent and award-winning physicist produced a level of confidence that it just might work.
Suddenly, the door burst open and two men, faces covered, entered the room. They both held guns in their hands and trained them on the two women. Jenkins studied the gun that pointed at her forehead. It was a SIG Sauer P229. A chill ran down her spine. That was the standard weapon used by the United States Secret Service.
She was about to say something when a third man entered the room and stole her attention away from the gun. It was the assassin that she had confronted in her office. It was not lost on her that he did not conceal his identity.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded. “Both of you.” Jenkins locked eyes with Brooke and gave a subtle nod. The plan that they put together was beginning.
“The Priest has work for you to do,” the assassin said to Brooke. “Do not be scared. As long as you cooperate you will be safe.”
Jenkins smiled inwardly. They were repeating the words that she and Brooke had used. That was all the confirmation she needed that her assumptions were accurate. They had overheard every word they had uttered.
“Take her away,” he said, motioning toward Brooke.
As she was led out of the room the assassin turned his gaze to Jenkins and stared at her in contempt.
“Hands behind your back,” he commanded. Jenkins obeyed swiftly. The assassin then walked behind her and fastened a set of flex-cuffs around her wrists.
“I would enjoy nothing more than to slit your throat and watch you bleed out,” he whispered in her ear.
Jenkins remained silent. She so wanted to call out his manliness, to provoke and taunt him to force a reaction. But he was no ordinary man. He would probably follow through on his threat and cut her throat. As it was, somebody wanted her alive. It was in her best interests to let it play out.
The assassin stood before her again and stared into her eyes. She made eye contact and matched his intensity.
“On your feet,” he said. Jenkins rose to full height without breaking her lock on his cold eyes.
Suddenly, his fist was at her face. It came so fast she barely saw it before connecting with her jaw. The impact was jarring, sending her helplessly tumbling to the floor. When her head crashed into the concrete surface, for the second time in a day, her whole world blacked out.
37
Reddic moved to the bedroom window and again carefully looked out into the courtyard. The stranger was still examining the lock on the door. Reddic watched as he took a small step back and peered up into the living room window. There would be nothing for him to see, as the blinds were drawn, and the lights were off. As expected, he returned to the door and began running his hands over the frame.
Pulling away from the glass, Reddic opened the closet door and stepped inside. Many Parisian flats only have one entrance and exit, but as is the case with an EOS safe house, he knew there were at least two, with one of those being hidden from view. He put on his headlamp and shined the small light onto the back wall of the closet. The space was cramped despite it being empty. It was only three feet deep and four feet wide with a single shelf at head level.
On the left-hand side, about four feet from the floor, he spotted a small latch that was the same weathered white color as the closet walls. Reddic reached down and moved the latch into the vertical position and pulled to his right. The back wall began to move. He marveled at the ingeniousness of the hidden pocket door. It was nearly undetectable to the uninitiated eye.
Directly on the other side of the door was a narrow shaft with an iron ladder bolte
d to the near wall. Putting the backpack straps over his shoulders, Reddic climbed in and began descending the rungs two at a time. He hopped off the ladder onto a concrete floor and faced a steel door against the north wall. There was no handle or knob, only an inch-thick deadbolt controlled by a simple lever. Although unembellished from his vantage point, Reddic knew exactly what the door would look like from the exterior. It would be a faux wall with no visible point of entry, adorned to look exactly like the siding of the building that would pass the highest level of scrutiny.
Using the lever, Reddic slid the deadbolt out of the wall and silently pulled the door inward. He stepped out into the open courtyard and gently closed the door behind him. With his head down he shuffled away from the building and away from his target. Walking out into the courtyard left him exposed, but he was playing the odds that the man was sufficiently distracted not to notice. As he moved, he couldn’t help but notice that the morning dawn was beginning to break. In a few short minutes the city would spring to life. His window of opportunity was tight. There was no room for error.
Reddic was able to circle around the rear of the square to the small alleyway that served as the entry to the courtyard. He began his approach toward the intruder walking with a slight limp, clutching his backpack in front as if he were holding a child. In his right hand, concealed from sight, he removed a military-grade stun gun that produced nearly ten million volts when activated. It was an ideal weapon of choice; he needed to subdue this man to gather information, not to incapacitate him.
As he neared within a few feet of the door the stranger sensed his presence and immediately turned to face Reddic. The man was visibly worried and suspicious.
“Good sir,” Reddic said in French. He used a low, raspy voice. “Could you spare some change? I have nothing to buy food.”