by D S Kane
“Good. Now moving on, we just received a request for a security audit from the guy who owns the Wailea Spa in Maui. Sanji Morikono. So I can combine business with pleasure. I’ll do the computer security part of the assignment and Avram, you can assign a few of your mercs to complete the physical security portion. I’ll fly to the hotel first, to discuss the assignment. I’ll be gone two weeks plus the surrounding weekends, for a total of seventeen days, but you can always reach me on my cell or by email. When I’m in the water I’ll have my cell in a waterproof Aquapac arm band and I’ll wear a waterproof Bluetooth earbud. So while I’m away and the office is being furnished, you can all work from home where it will be quieter, except for you, Judy. You’ll have to be here to manage progress of the crews.”
Judy nodded.
Cassie looked at her cell phone’s screen and then faced the others. “I have a list of each of your current projects on my phone. I’ve sent this to you all as email.”
She looked at Mahee. “Adam, you’ll be working on several weapons tech development projects, including the replacement technology for the GNU Radio just in case Stillwater Tech can’t resolve the ramp-up problems they have.” Mahee nodded back.
“William, you’ll polish the website and then decide which hacking assignments your group will accept from the US and other governments.” Wing just nodded and blinked his eyes though black plastic fishbowl eyeglasses.
“And, Avram, deal with Achmed Houmaz. I know you don’t want to lie to him and I agree, it’s a bad idea. Sooner or later he’d find out the truth. But we need a plan for what to do when he finds out it was us who killed his brothers. And I assume that he’s smart enough to find out, if he doesn’t yet know. If he knows, then this email may just have been a warning to put us on notice. Try to figure out what he might do.”
Shimmel nodded, but then he turned deadly serious. “Sashakovich, I insist you take your five bodyguards with you for the duration of your trip, given the Houmaz threat.”
Cassie shook her head and said, “No, Avram. This isn’t just a business trip for me. I’m taking Ann. This is my vacation. No bodyguards.”
“I insist. If you do not, I will have them go with you anyway. And if you fire me, then I will also go with you. Besides, they can complete the physical security portion of the assignment while you are there, not after.”
Cassie sighed. It was going to be a much larger group than she had planned on. “All right. I guess I have no choice.”
* * *
When she returned from school the next afternoon, Ann reviewed her homework assignment for social studies. “Watch a congressional hearing and write a report on what you see.” This will be a real bore. Oh well, I’d best get started. She turned to CNN for a program called “House of Representatives: Pre-Impeachment Hearings” and opened her notebook computer.
On the screen she could see a man the screen labeled “Congressman Thomas Dillworthy (R-Indiana)” snap the gavel hard onto the table in the congressional amphitheater. “Order. Order!” Ann wondered why there was such a high level of noise in the arena. “I know this is almost unbelievable, but hear me out. I have hard evidence,” and he pointed to a stack of papers next to him on the table.
Another person, labeled “Congressman James Farkalowe (D-Michigan)” requested recognition, and Ann began to take notes.
“So let me see if I understand. You just stated that the President of the United States has been funding terrorism since he took office?”
The camera returned to Dillworthy. “Yes, my esteemed colleague. I request that special counsel be appointed to investigate this, unless someone other than me wishes to accept responsibility for this investigation.” Ann copied what she’d heard, word for word.
Yet another blue-suited congressman, a Republican, asked Dillworthy, “Where did you get this evidence?”
Dillworthy said, “I have promised to keep my source protected in these televised hearings. But, I’ll tell everything I know to a special counsel. Nothing more until that.”
Ann heard the masculine voiceover from a network newsperson saying, “And with the presidential election less than three weeks away, this information will certainly take the edge off the ten-point lead in the polls currently enjoyed by the Republican nominee, Sanford Stanchion.”
A female counterpart echoed that opinion. “Stanchion was favored to win by a landslide. But it looks like that may change. We’ll follow this story for you, and more. Now, back to the committee meeting.”
Ann typed as fast as she could, ensuring that she copied everything that was said. Then she wrote a draft of the report, containing as much analysis as she could. She printed the first draft, scanned her work and shook her head. She suspected it was terrible, since her initial drafts always needed massive revisions. She left the draft on the kitchen table, needing to think before rewriting. She went upstairs to retrieve a thesaurus from her bedroom.
* * *
As the sun set, Cassie opened the front door and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She saw the draft of Ann’s social studies report, smiled and picked it up, remembering her own days in high school.
There were errors in spelling and grammar, but she knew how hard Ann was trying. As she scanned the page, her jaw dropped. She hadn’t seen the news yesterday, hadn’t bothered reading the paper. Someone had taken Yigdal Ben-Levy’s television appearance six weeks ago as gospel and done a separate investigation. She knew about the funds transfer network the President had ordered, and wondered if the congressional investigation would discover that, as well. If they did, the charges would go from simple impeachment to treason.
She was no longer the only one who knew what the President had done. Her remaining leverage on the White House was disappearing fast now, and real danger would replace it. Her four-month lead time had vanished in a matter of a few weeks.
She fell into a seat at the kitchen table. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Maybe Avram was right. Maybe a vacation wasn’t such a good idea. But, if she was to take a vacation, it was best her bodyguards accompany her. It was likely this was the last one she’d have for a very long time.
PART II
CHAPTER 13
October 10, 11:24 a.m.
Mineta International Airport,
San Jose, California
Two days later, on a bright, clear October Friday, a small Learjet approached Mineta International Airport in San Jose, in northern California.
Ann had met the men about six hours ago that morning, just before they left the house for the airport. Cassie had explained to Ann what covert services were and had mentioned the names of several of the men and revealed their nationalities. She smiled nonchalantly. “Our bodyguards are all former Mossad agents.” Cassie had told her once what Mossad was, but Ann didn’t remember. She’d understood there might be dangers, but once again she worried whether having chosen Cassie and Lee to be her family might not be some massive mistake.
Over breakfast, Cassie had told Ann what the men’s special skills were, in addition to being her family’s bodyguards. “This man is Lester Dushov, an expert in chemistry; Lester is especially useful in interrogation.” The man was thin and balding, probably close to fifty years old. “Ari Westheim is a martial arts expert.” The red-haired man had a youthful looking face. “Shimon Tennenbaum earned a PhD in psychology and hypnosis. He also specializes in interrogation.” This man had olive skin and eyes that were almost black. He smiled at her. “Michael Drapoff is a tech expert with a special focus on telecommunications.” She examined his craggy face. He towered over the rest of them. “And we call Jacob David Weinstein, ‘JD.’ He’s an expert in both explosives and automatic weapons.” Ann found him to be handsome, his smile compelling.
She decided when she had time later, she’d find out what these special skills were. Some she thought she understood. Many were just plain confusing. Most puzzling was psychology. All she knew was it had to do with feelings and thinking.
Lee swallowed a pi
ece of toast. He laughed. “Are you trying to train her to be a spy?” he asked Cassie.
Cassie stopped in mid-thought and faced them both. “Uh, well, I, ah. No. Never.”
“Yeah. Thought so.” Lee shook his head, his mouth grinning with disbelief.
As they packed the limo for the trip to the airport, William Wing parked his car out in front of the house. “Cassie, I’m here to take care of Gizmo while you’re gone.”
She handed him a piece of paper. “Here you go. Instructions on what she eats, where to buy it, and the name of the vet in Washington if something bad happens. Call me and let me know how she is. I’ll be in northern California for the weekend and then Hawaii for about two weeks.”
Now, six hours later, the plane gradually lined up above the runway and settled to earth. Ann thought about the bodyguards as the plane touched down on the runway. So much protection. She couldn’t detect any danger, but maybe there were things she couldn’t understand.
After taxiing to the private aircraft terminal, the jet’s door opened and airport staff placed a staircase against the door descending to the tarmac. Five very wary men left the plane and descended the stairs, looking in every direction. When they reached the tarmac, they formed a circle with the center large enough to contain three people. They stood, warily shifting their focus all around.
Just a few seconds passed before Lee, then Cassie and last, Ann took the steps down to the tarmac. Cassie said, “This is massive overkill. I don’t know why I listened to Avram. We didn’t need all five of you. This is just a vacation.”
Lee waved his arm, “Let it be. Think of it as being best for Ann’s safety.”
The group of eight walked cautiously to the limousine that sat waiting at the end of the tarmac. JD opened the door and smiled. “Please, be seated. We’ll take care of your luggage.”
Lester entered the car first and sat behind the wheel. Ari took the front passenger seat. He said, “This one is armor plated with bomb-proof undercarriage and bullet-proof tires and windows. I got it from the CEO of a software company. Larry’s become more security conscious since the incident in Malaysia last year. He isn’t scheduled to travel this week. He didn’t even charge us much.” Lester turned the engine and the car moved onto the airport’s exit road.
Ann looked out the windows at the scenery of the Bay Area. The ride to Half Moon Bay would take less than an hour. They took highway 280 north, passing tall hills with yellow grass and tawny trees, starved of water from the typical lack of summer rain.
Lee muttered to Cassie, “This is the first time in five years I’ve been within a few hundred miles of home,” and Ann wondered if they’d schedule a trip for her to meet his parents soon. But Lee hadn’t mentioned this or any plans to Ann, and she wondered if Lee and his parents stayed in touch.
They passed a sign that stated a golf course was ahead. There were men in carts, scooting along what looked like a massive lawn, but what drew her attention was the color of the water in the long chain of lakes below the golfers. As they reached the intersection of highway 92, Ann craned her head west, looking at the long, thin blue waters. “Wow. So pretty.”
Cassie smiled. “We’re about to pass over the San Andreas Fault, the most active earthquake fault in the United States. They placed a reservoir over the fault line here and you can’t see how deep the crack in the earth’s crust is.”
Ann gulped. “When was the last time it shook?”
“The last big one was in 1989. I was about five years old, just arrived home from school. My parents’ house moved like a ballet dancer. There was some minor damage to the house. Nothing that couldn’t be repaired. When the shaking stopped, about eighteen seconds later, we found the quake was serious enough that it closed most roads for a few days. We didn’t have electricity or water for a full day. And some houses close to the epicenter of the quake were totally ruined. They had to be torn down and rebuilt. We lost a bridge, a highway, and many lives.”
The limo gradually climbed the narrow, twisty highway up over twelve hundred feet to the crest of King Mountain and Ann saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. Her jaw dropped as her eyes stared at the bright blue sparkling stretch when the car rounded the curve just past the intersection of Highway 35 and started down into the canyon toward Half Moon Bay. “How cool.”
* * *
The house sat in Montara, a foggy area west of Highway 1, in a sharply sloping field crowded with homes. The slope ended as a bluff at the edge of the ocean. Cassie mentioned, “Most of the homes were built within the last twenty-five years. This house, older, probably once had a view of the Pacific before the newer houses were built. It was a nondescript, aging brown ranch with a porch now facing a newer house across the street.
As the limo reached 409 Farallone Avenue and slowed, there was no one visible outside. It was midafternoon on Friday and most people were at work, many of them at least twenty-five miles away, either in San Francisco or close to San Jose. The five bodyguards all checked their handguns before anyone could leave the limo.
JD and Lester emerged and shielded Cassie as she walked past a trellis of red and yellow tea roses to the front door and rang the doorbell
After a few seconds, a middle-aged woman’s voice said, “Da, ya po iti.” Yes, I’m coming. The door opened a crack’s width and a pair of brown eyes stared at the group waiting outside. The woman’s mouth opened wide with surprise and her voice quivered as she whispered, “Cassandra?” Without waiting for a response, she reached out and grasped her daughter’s shoulders. Crying, she said, “I was sure I’d never see you again.” She hugged Cassie. “My dearest.” Then she put a bit of distance between them and examined Cassie. “You look so different. Like your uncle Misha.”
“Mama.” Cassie moved closer and hugged the older woman. “It’s been too long.” She pushed open the door with her foot. The bodyguards moved away and took up positions around the property.
The two women embraced. The older woman looked at Cassie, then at Ann, and down the path to the doorway and saw the rest of the group. “What happened to your face? Who are all these people?”
Cassie smiled. “I’ll tell you as soon as you let us all inside.” She turned and told them all, “This is my mother, Natasha.” She pointed to the people behind her on the path. “Mama, this is Lee. He’s my man. And this is Ann, your granddaughter. And these men are my friends and protectors.” She introduced the five bodyguards.
Natasha’s eyes lit up. “And you didn’t tell me? She’s too old to be yours. When did you adopt?” She faced Ann. Motioned to the teen. “Come to me.” Ann moved cautiously, But Tasha gave her a bear hug. “Welcome, granddaughter.”
Tasha motioned for them all to enter the hallway. She walked slowly struggling to the kitchen.
Cassie touched Tasha’s shoulder. “How’s your arthritis?”
“I’m okay. It’s the constant fog off the ocean.” she replied, shrugging. “Cassie, your face. Tell me everything.”
Cassie scratched her chin. “I found myself in desperate need of a permanent disguise. People were trying to kill me. I hadn’t intended to look like uncle Misha. I don’t even like him. It just happened.”
The older woman stared at her daughter. “But you never called us! We heard you were dead, but you weren’t.” She pounded Cassie’s shoulder. “Shame on you!” She raised her voice, shaking her head. “I’m your mother and you treat me this way?”
Cassie’s face fell. “But mom, I thought if you knew, it would put you in danger. I kept you from knowing for your own good.”
Now the older woman’s face became fierce. “Kiril and I worked with spies. You don’t think we know how to keep secrets? It’s what we do, baby.” She shook her head again, her voice softening. “What exactly happened?” She walked to the stove, placed a teapot on a burner and turned it on. As if shifting gears, she turned to the group and said, “Tea.” It wasn’t a question. She pointed to the dining room table. “We have plenty of time. I don’t have to
be at City Hall until Council meeting tonight, and Kiril won’t return from Stanford until dinnertime. He’s teaching seminar class this afternoon on introduction to Leontief’s input-output matrix theory of forecasting. It takes lots of time for young minds to grasp matrix calculus theory of economics.”
She sat and waited until the others joined her at the table. As Lee approached, she examined him as if he was some object about to be auctioned off. To Cassie she asked, “Does he treat you well?” When Cassie smiled and nodded, Natasha gave him a hug. Then back to Cassie. “So daughter, tell me of your adventures.”
All three of them told the tale. Where the story involved just Cassie, she told it. But whenever the story involved one of the others, Cassie pointed to them and let them tell it their way. Ann told how her brother was murdered right in front of her the first night she was homeless, but omitted saying anything about her time turning tricks for cash. Lee told how Cassie had evaded McDougal’s operatives, especially Bob Gault. Cassie described Lee’s brilliant idea to hire a mercenary army headed by Avram Shimmel, who’d served in the Israeli military and then in Mossad. And how Shimmel had found them the bodyguards.
It took several hours. As Cassie finished the story with recovering Ann from the tunnels and Lee from Guantanamo, and their move to the house in Chevy Chase, they heard a car door closing and then the screen door opening.
“Who owns large limo blocking driveway?” growled a voice with a discernible Russian accent. Kiril was thin and wiry, just past middle age. His face was covered by a scrappy, short-cropped, gray Van Dyke beard, and his eyebrows were two thick, gray brushes, but his eyes were steel gray slits. He sauntered into the dining room like the king of an empire. He saw Cassie, and his eyes widened as he began to cry. “My sweet kitten. Finally, I see you again.” He wiped his eyes. “What happened to your face?”
Natasha shook her head. “I’ll tell you later, Kiril. They tell me whole thing. Now, get ready for dinner. We have reservations at Main Street Sushi in one hour.”