THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE IS REQUESTED BY POTUS FOR A MEETING IN THE O. O. TOMORROW AT 9:00 AM.
JH
Karen groaned.
In order for her to be at the White House by 9:00 am, she would have to leave Middleburg by 7:30 at the latest. It meant that she would have to get up at 6:00. Karen went to walk away but then remembered what Etheridge had said about any communication from him, his office, or the White House.
She set the message in the sink, lit the corners, and watched it burn. She washed the ashes into the garbage disposer and turned on the power. After a few seconds she stopped the motor and then the water.
Karen stood in the silence, leaning on the sink.
Am I cut out for this kind of work? Was Dad?
Etheridge thought so. And so did President Burke.
She absentmindedly yawned and decided to unpack, shower and wait for Sharon to come home. Hopefully, she’d arrive soon, and they could catch up before Karen felt she had to go to bed.
***
Sharon came home in the middle of the night, and Karen left the house at 7:15 before Sharon rose. Sharon had previously expressed that she was going to look for something to do in the District. Just like Karen, she didn’t have to earn a living. She had worked for the Labyrinth in the U.S. Patent Archive section, but after her negative experience there, when asked if she wanted to renew her contract, she refused, left her apartment in Edgewood, and returned to Middleburg with Shasta, her cat.
Before Karen left the garage, she plugged in her scan tool, attached it to her computer, and created an icon on her desktop that all she need do is click to force the Jaguar into ‘Basic Mode’ in case she encountered hackers again.
Karen drove through the center of Middleburg and headed toward the Beltway. It was a fifty-three-mile trip to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and at this time of day with all the traffic on the beltway, she decided to allow an hour and forty-five minutes to cover the distance.
She remembered the last time she was summoned to the White House by President Burke. Jeffrey Haun, the President’s Chief of Staff, cut short her sorely-needed mental and emotional recuperation from the loss of her father and her emotion-filled resignation from RL2.
On her way in to the District that time, she had pondered the mystery of the Labyrinth incident.
What’s the problem now?
Karen passed the barricades which she had previously burst through in an assassin’s attempt to end her life. Now, they were doubly reinforced with three rows of plastic barrels filled with water. The body shop did a fine job repairing the damage to her Jaguar.
Inside the Beltway, just outside Falls Church, Karen remembered pulling off the road last year and letting fly three of her homing pigeons.
The birds are gone.
Karen’s face took on a somber look. She continued traveling along Rt. 66 toward the District, pondering the purpose of her new status.
As instructed in a separate communication from Carl Etheridge, Karen drove to National Intelligence Headquarters, left her car, and was taken to the White House by a driver. She was then escorted to the Oval Office by an aide.
Upon seeing Karen enter, President Burke said that it was good to see her and gestured for her to sit down in one of the wingchairs. “I know you’re wondering why Jeffrey summoned you here.”
Jeffrey Haun entered the room and sat down in a facing chair.
Karen said, “Well, Carl Etheridge called me last evening and told me that there was a situation and that the agency needed me to become involved.”
Carl Etheridge walked into the room.
“Now that we’re all here,” the president began, “let’s explain to Karen why we have her here.”
Etheridge sat down and said, “Recently, an amount of enriched uranium was stolen from a plant in Pakistan. We have good information that terrorists are using the uranium to create a number of nuclear or dirty bombs. We’ve been listening to their chatter and have determined that the terrorist plan is to disable as many U.S., British, French and basically free-world consulates as they can in one coordinated attack. For that, it’s probably dirty bombs they’ll use.”
President Burke continued, “The possibility that they could simultaneously attack all the sites at or around the same time is highly unlikely. But they could hit a few key targets and cause considerable confusion, panic, destruction, and death. It would take months to clean it all up and make it safe for personnel to occupy the buildings.”
Karen was becoming impatient and said, “Why have you called me in?”
Etheridge said, “Ever since your encounter at the Labyrinth, we know that your senses have been heightened. We know you see better and no longer need glasses for close work. You can spot the slightest movements, and know when something’s out of place. Your sense of touch has become so sensitive, you’re able to feel even the slightest breeze and change in air pressure. Your hearing is so acute, you can hear a mouse move between the walls of a building. Your sense of smell is beyond the human spectrum. Your taste buds can detect the slightest variation of a recipe, distinguishing whether a chocolate chip cookie mix has one or two teaspoons of vanilla.
“And we know that when it begins to flow, you can sense electricity.”
“So you know I’m aware of the surveillance at Swan Nest, the Krystal Vision offices, and now my home,” Karen said, crossing her arms.
“We know. Believe it or not, the surveillance is to protect you. You and Sharon. It’s because of those heightened abilities of yours that we want you involved in our plans to battle this new conglomerate of terrorists.”
Karen’s adrenalin began to rise but she suppressed her anger. “What would you have me do?” she asked.
“You need to get up to speed on what our field agents have uncovered since the theft of the uranium. There are a few targets we think are prime. We need you be on a flight to Paris.”
“Will I be on my own, or will another agent be assigned to work alongside me?”
Etheridge said, “We’ve decided that another agent will be assigned to you but someone from France, not the U.S. We’re trying to mend relations. We have to gain back French trust since it was leaked that the NSA had been spying on them.”
“And the NSA has stopped?” Karen asked.
Randall Burke interrupted and said, “Let’s concentrate on the task at hand and get you on your way.”
Carl Etheridge began, “The first indication we had that there was a problem, happened when we intercepted a communiqué from French Intelligence.”
“You were listening,” Karen said.
Etheridge didn’t acknowledge Karen’s statement and continued: “The Taliban, working with The Commander Nazir Group broke into the Selahi plant in Pakistan in the middle of the night, killed a guard, and made off with a substantial amount of uranium cakes. Initially, we thought they were planning to make nuclear bombs.”
“How many could they make?” Karen asked.
“If our information is correct, sixteen,” Etheridge said.
“Has there been any contact from the terrorists?” Karen asked.
“They called every head government official in each country in the free world including Israel, Turkey, Germany, France, Great Britain and us.”
Karen asked, “Did they identify themselves.”
“No,” President Burke said. “But it was a male with a clean American accent who called us.”
“A radicalized American,” Etheridge said.
“What did he say?” Karen asked.
The president said, “That they have plans in place to hurt us economically.”
“How?” Karen asked.
“We’re not sure,” Etheridge said. “This is what we feared would eventually happen: that terrorist groups would band together.”
“How many terrorist organizations are involved?” Karen asked.
Etheridge said, “At least seventeen.”
“I had no idea there were that many terrorist organiza
tions. How many terrorists are there?”
“Between Maghreb, Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq, and numerous other countries, we estimate about twenty-five thousand. That doesn’t include terrorists in western countries and other democratic nations,” Etheridge said.
Karen’s jaw set.
***
The meeting lasted another hour and Karen’s head was spinning when she left. She was driven back to National Intelligence Headquarters where she picked up her car. This time when she dropped it off, they went through it from bumper to bumper looking for any type of electronic listening device.
They found the one planted by Cheyenne and left it in place. The other, they removed to analyze and determine where it was manufactured and who might have planted it.
Karen arrived home and went straight to the bedroom to pack her clothes. She opened her closet and began choosing her wardrobe. She hadn’t gained any weight since she last lived home. And because all her clothes were conservative, they would still be current. Not like her sister’s clothes that had to be replaced about every six months.
The flight was to leave at 9:50 pm and arrive in Paris at Charles de Gaulle airport at 11:25 am the next day. She had seven hours to pack, get to the airport, pass through security and board the Boeing 777. A National Intelligence car was scheduled to pick her up and drive her to the airfield.
Karen knew the accepted Parisian-color attire was grays, blacks, and white. She was still upstairs choosing her outfits and laying her clothes out on the bed when she heard the chime of the security system signaling that the front gate had opened. Then it sounded again. Someone had opened the garage door.
Karen stopped what she was doing to listen. She glanced at her weapon on the nightstand.
“Sis?”
“I’m upstairs,” Karen said. She heard the alarm being reset.
Sharon climbed the stairs.
Karen met her at the door, and they hugged.
Sharon looked at the bed and then the open suitcase and said, “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Where’re you going, now?”
Karen hesitated and shaking her head slightly said, “I really can’t say.”
“You don’t know?”
“I know, I just can’t tell you, or anyone,” Karen said, clearing her throat.
“Ever since you came back from the Labyrinth, you’ve been super secretive. You leave and come back home at strange hours. I mean odd hours.”
“You should talk.”
“I don’t have a job, and I go out on dates. What’s your excuse?”
“Sharon…” Karen let her sentence trail off and turned back to packing.
“Am I allowed to know what time you leave?”
“I have to be at the airport by 8:30 pm.”
“What time is your flight?”
“I leave at 9:50.”
“Overseas?”
Karen kept silent.
“You’re supposed to be there at least two hours early. You’ll be late.”
Karen thought for a moment and said, “I’ve been cleared.”
“To where? For what?”
Karen thought for a moment and then whispered that she had to go to Paris.
Sharon hesitated and then said, “I’ll take you.”
“Sharon…”
“Right, I’m sure you have a ride. Am I ever going to know what you’re into?”
“Someday. I have to shower,” Karen said and closed her suitcase.
“Are you going to eat before you go?”
Karen knew that Sharon wanted to spend a little more time with her so she said, “Why don’t you see what we could have.”
As soon as Karen disappeared into the bathroom, Sharon opened up Karen’s suitcase and said, “She’ll never attract a guy dressing like this. Drab colors. Where’s she going, a funeral?”
Sharon closed the lid and darted off to her room.
***
Karen arrived at the airport and was met at the passenger drop-off by an armed security guard who escorted her to a private room where she was quickly checked through security. She had to un’holster and unclip the ammunition from her Glock G33 along with doing the same for the SIG 226 standard issue pistol she had in her purse.
She was instructed to turn off and then reactivate her special cellphone with the National Intelligence agency’s customized x-ray, infrared, and ultrasound capabilities. In addition, she had to claim her laser gun.
Once through, she was free to board. She was told to keep her weapons hidden so as not to panic the passengers. Before she left the private security area, she lifted her skirt, reattached her holster, and seated her backup weapon between her legs.
She stood up and pulled down her skirt. She took a couple of steps and then reached between her thighs and readjusted her Glock. Once satisfied, she headed for the gate.
CHAPTER 21
Somewhere south of Paris, France
Cold steel stairs led to a rectangular, Spartan room. Chairs, tables, stands, window frames, roof and floor were all made of various forms of tempered metal. At the far end of the space, atop a gray, industrial-looking table sat a computer connected to a multipurpose projector that was pointed toward a white, stand-alone screen. The seats were arranged in two semicircles.
Once everyone was seated, the shades were drawn, and the lights were extinguished. Mohammed Ally Atwah turned on the projector and began a discourse of what was to happen.
“Our goal is to infiltrate our target and cause the French government economic ruin.”
He described how and when the terrorist cell would enter Paris and where they would affect their damage and loss of life. Each member of the team had a specific assignment, a coordinated effort that the French authorities would be powerless to stop.
Once Atwah finished he clicked his mouse, and the screen at the far end of the room lit up with a headshot photo of Karen Krystal.
Standing back and studying the portrait, Atwah said, “Prior to the attack on our primary target, we need to capture and neutralize the antiterrorist shown on the screen.”
Atwah clicked to another file. “This is our number one human target. I want you to memorize all the information on the screen as I flip though her background. Notice, she’s listed as being thirty-two years old and five-foot-seven inches tall.”
He projected a full body photo of Karen on the screen. She was standing in an exercise facility dressed in her workout clothes. A wolf-like uproar rose from the terrorists and Atwah had to quiet them down.
He continued, “She’s been training as a member of U.S. National Intelligence. She spent time in Nevada at the C.R.I. School. She’s moderately proficient in all types of weapons and fighting methods including martial arts. She’s just been called in by National Intelligence to travel to Europe and assist the French government in protecting their country. They suspect something but they’re not sure what. I show you this photo so that regardless of her abilities, you can see she’s flesh and blood like the rest of us.”
A cell member said, “She doesn’t seem that special. Why do we need to know about her? And why’s she a target?”
“Let’s just say that anything she’s involved in could cause us a problem.”
“I still don’t see that she’s all that special,” one of the terrorists said.
“We have already attempted to eliminate her, and twice she’s escaped. She has heightened senses and is extremely intelligent and resourceful,” Atwah said and clicked to the last slide. He read the information on the screen. “This is from a top secret document kept in CIA records. ‘Karen Krystal has almost super-human abilities. Her senses are beyond the human spectrum’.”
“Like what?” a cell member asked.
Atwah continued, “You’ve heard the expression a nose like a bloodhound. Well, she can smell things like the type of cigarette a person’s smoking and can smell through walls and dirt.
“She has the GPS of a pige
on. Whether she’s blindfolded or underground, she always knows what direction north is. And, she can detect electricity.”
“What does that mean?” another member asked.
“Each of us carries a certain amount of electricity. Voltage in our bodies. Hammerhead sharks can find something with a half-a-billionth of a volt. Humans emit between ten and one hundred millivolts. Enough for a shark to find you, and also enough for Karen Krystal to find you.
“She could break into a laser-protected room and actually see the beams and walk between, under and around them and remain undetected.” Atwah stopped talking and his eyes appeared to glaze over.
One of the terrorists asked, “How did she become so, so superhuman?”
“Remember the Labyrinth? She was exposed to something in the tunnels, from the rocks, the dust in the air, who knows. Since then, her senses have been heightened.”
“So, she’s dangerous,” a terrorist said.
“Very.”
“Too bad we couldn’t recruit her. She’d be an asset to our cause.”
Atwah thought for a moment and then said, “You may get your chance.”
He projected the full-body photo of Karen on the screen again and said, “Don’t be fooled by her beauty. She’s probably the most dangerous counterterrorist in the world.”
Atwah then continued revisiting the plans put in place to bring France to its knees.
CHAPTER 22
Reagan National Airport—Arlington, Virginia
National Intelligence had purchased a Business Class ticket, so Karen was among the first group to board. She stowed her carryon bag, sat down in the oversized seat, and prepared for the eight-hour flight over the Atlantic.
She took out her European Terrorist Activity brief and began to read through the details of the terrorists’ plans as far as the French and U.S. governments understood them. There was no mention of the other targets that U.S. Intelligence had identified.
There was no seat next to her. She was thankful for that. She didn’t want to be involved in idle conversation. She had already read through the first section of the report when a late-to-board passenger slipped into the chair across the aisle. Karen didn’t react, but she suddenly smelled vanilla. She looked up.
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