by E L Russell
After the flight attendant departed, Steve raised his glass. “To the Hawk.”
She touched his glass with hers. “Will we be working undercover?”
“Yes, I’ll go over that and more during the flight.”
“I take it the toast was to SA Hawking. Did you work with him?”
He hesitated, not moving or speaking. “Yes.” Then he smiled. “You haven’t slipped into a vestige of an old boy fraternity. Our toast was not nickname, but a title. Granger, as one of the best snipers, is given the title of Hawk. He and I were a team before . . . the Company took us in.”
“The company? The CIA?”
Feeling she had intruded on his person and changed the topic. “How did the meeting with the Director go? What do we know now?”
He tilted his tall glass looking down at the tower of cubes and bit his lower lip. “Only that Granger went to Aden’s Seera so called Fun City on the southern coast. It’s a playground near the Middle Age Sira fortress for a rare face-to-face meeting with his local asset early in the morning, ten days ago.” He paused and then shook his head, “Way too long” and sighed, “It was a routine meeting. He’d met with this guy several times and the asset’s missing as well. That area of Aden sits on the coast and can be considered upscale. Other than that, there’s nothing special about it. Our people are thinking he and Granger may not be in the hands of normal terrorists.”
“Is there such a thing?”
He shook his head. “No, by not normal, I mean they’re commercial.”
“Any idea where they took him?”
He looked at her for the first time since took their seats and shook his head.
She continued. “No one’s making any demands?”
He finished his drink. “Nothing, not a peep.”
“Are we using drones?”
His eyes snapped on hers. “Inconclusive and useless in the city”
She folded her arms on the table and leaned closer to him. “Let’s say if you could pinpoint a house or some other building where he’s being kept. What’s your next step?”
His forehead frowned and he looked at her from over the tope of his rimless glasses. “I take it you haven’t done this kind of work before. Define ‘next’ for me.”
“Our response. The next thing. How do we go in and extract him? What’s our plan?”
He rubbed his upper lip and grasped his chin. “Look, no offense, Doctor, but I have been derailed from going after my partner for three days bringing you here. I can understand why management needs a lab rat to deal with the biologicals, but what we need for Granger is, . . . a pair of fucking boots on the ground. I had words with my boss over what you could possibly bring to the table for Granger. I don’t think you understand what I’m talking about and I’m sorry about that.” He stood and took a window seat two rows ahead.
She thought about what he said and pulled out her encrypted personal phone. Thought some more and then and speed dialed number three. “Zhen, I need to demonstrate the beetles as soon as possible. I’ll have a person for you to call after we land. How many can you send?”
“Six. Must they be armed?”
“Yes, send three with one ounce and three with three ounces of that bang-bang juice you told me about. There is a safety, right? No danger for me touching something and having it blow off my head, is there?”
“No danger, but you’ll need the app for the smart phone that will be controlling them. You can download it from our TOR DropBox. Oh, most important, get Poppy to give you some of my DNA. Make sure it’s in the database. That’s priority number one, got it? Oh, before we end the call, your pen is fabulous. It’s a deal maker.”
She reminded herself that in spite of Zhen’s genius with new technologies, he was also microbiologist at heart, but his beetles and pens may be just what her new firm needs to generate operational funds while they build a customer base.
She gently woke with her head propped against a pillow nestled between a large oval window and her seat. Steve had returned and now slept diagonally opposite her with his feet on the empty chair next to the spacious aisle.
“Steve, something’s come up and I need your help with it.” She attempted to wake him by shaking his ankle. “Steve?”
He woke and put his glasses on. “What . . .?” Seeing her he reached for her hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things. Granger and I were partners and he saved my ass many times.”
She nodded and patted his hand. “All I ever require from someone I trust is the truth. As much as I dislike it, you didn’t lie to me. I appreciate your honesty and trust and need your help.”
“What sort of help?”
“I need to have some packages sent to our destination. They may be critical in finding Granger.”
He folded his arms and sniffled. “What sort of package?”
“It’s about the size of a shoebox with some tech, DNA, and explosives.”
He put his feet on the floor and sat tall. “Explosives?”
“About twelve ounces of Nitrogen Octaiodide”
“Oh, any biological agents?”
“No, but they could be added once the vectors arrive.”
“Oh shit, you’re not kidding?”
“What? Why the hell would I be kidding? Where do I tell my guy to ship them?”
“Okay, okay.” He fished through his wallet. “Have him call this number.” He offered the card, but held onto it. “He’s in Houston, right?”
She nodded.
“Have him tell this guy the nature of the package. The ah . . . the guy will have it on a company plane within five hours. Your man doesn’t need to know its final destination. My guy will see it gets to me since you are not in the system. Will that work?”
She took the card, “Right. Yes, thanks. I’ll make the call now.”
When she finished the call, he handed her a passport and some papers. “We’ll be landing in Aden shortly. Your cover name is Mary Martin and I’m Jim Cook. I booked adjacent rooms in the Hotel Mercure Aden. It’s a mile or so south of the airport. Get a good night’s sleep and meet me in my room for breakfast.”
She reached in her hand bag and removed her small black bag of personal jewelry and selected a long, plain gold chain. From another part of her purse she found the egg sized black beetle, just as easily as customs would.
She quickly fashioned a double loop of gold chain and hung the black beetle from it. Positioning it as a neckless, she adjusted the gold chain and pulled the beetle toward her chest. Let’s hope Zhen doesn’t make a long distance call.
18
Dirk Manages Katya
Late April, Washington, D. C. - Dirk tries to step up
Dirk Donahue, Program Director for PSI Corps, just had his ass chewed by his boss over his expenses on Project Rapture. The possibility for a profit in the billions didn’t diminish the heat coming from, what Dirk believed was, the biggest bean counter in Washington. The final straw came after someone told the boss he’d botched the recruitment effort to hire Dr. Meret Mather. The boss called him on the carpet and went ballistic, telling him didn’t like it that he used a fake CIA ID and told him to give the program to Katya. Dirk was certain she’d been the boss’ source.
The sharp knock on his office door jangled his nerves. No one knocked on a door like Katya. He wondered which Katya would enter, the professional woman in the white lab coat, or the monster in black leather he watched interrogate Dr. Sen. Needing to feel in control, he shifted his gun from the bottom drawer to the top one before standing to greet her.
“Doctor Kornilova.”
“Donahue.”
She wore green scrubs, white Nike running shoes and a trope like pair of round black-rimmed glasses. With no greeting or apology for her lateness, she launched into the reason she couldn’t stay. “A patient of mine requires my immediate attention.”
She placed her clipboard and pen on his desk and waited.
Dirk eyed the insult and lit a cigar, knowi
ng she didn’t like the smoke. “Please, sit,” he said, his cordial invitation less than skin deep. He balanced the cigar on the edge of an oversized glass ashtray, knowing full well the corner vent would blow Havana’s finest smoke into her face. “I know you said his presence on Socotra completes Dr. Sen’s fantasy, but I’m concerned about his demand to be present in order to observe his work in action on site. Both requests will require additional training and time if we wish to maintain our control over him.”
Dirk casually blew a stream of air over the lit end of his cigar making the tip glow. “Yes, and I think your idea to be near him to continue his training is sound, so,” He raised his finger as though he had an idea, “That’s why it is important you accompany him to Socotra. After all, it’s only the first leg his transfer to PSI Corps’ safe house in Germany. It could work since we originally planned for you to be with him on that part of his itinerary anyway. The only difference is you’ll fly with him from the airport to our secret facility while he’s in Yemen on a first class corporate helicopter. Then it will take you to a spot on Socotra he’s already selected for his review of the attack, and then transfer both of you to the commercial airport for the jump to Berlin.”
She sat stoic, silent and then spoke. “I will condition him to see me as one of the chopper’s crew and later on the plane as a passenger or flight attendant. That should reinforce his sense of being a powerful man doing all this on his own for his family. And let’s face it, Dirk, who else but I could guarantee PSI Corp’s success?”
She almost smiled, but remained aloof knowing she didn’t want to give up the high ground and keep up the upper hand. Damn him for thinking he’d just give it to her. “Dr. Sen is too valuable to trust in the hands of some of the goon squads we employ. I shall look forward to our trip. Will you be joining us in Berlin?”
He tapped the end of his cigar clean and took too a deep drag. Struggling not to cough, he said, “Yes, I’ll continue monitoring preparations for the auction and hopefully will oversee the transfer of what promises to be a large sum of money, especially after our marks learn of our success on Socotra.”
Believe what you want, Dirky boy.
Dirk congratulated himself on his success. The bitch bought into it. Damn, he’d pull this off and the boss will have to rethink his asinine proclamation to put her in charge. He sure as hell wasn’t giving up this project without a fight.
Katya stood to leave. When she picked up her clipboard the pen rolled off onto the desk and continued to roll until it fell off her side. She swore in Russian and bent to retrieve it. “I think it rolled toward you Dirk. Do you see it?”
He pushed his chair back and looked down. “Nope, but I have another pen you can have.”
She touched his shoulder. “That’s okay Dirk, you can see Katya now.”
Dirk sat upright in his chair to a vision of Katya, dressed in her black leather suit, there for the killing. She held a cigar between her teeth. “You realize these Havana’s are knock-offs.”
His limbs turned to jelly and he didn’t move. Her dark eyes bore into him and nausea filled his belly. Saliva slowly filled the corners of his mouth.
“You should have allowed me to recruit Mather.”
She ran her pinkie over her bottom lip, smoothing out the red lipstick like a woman bent on seduction.
Dirk’s sense of control became a fading memory.
“I’d have Mather in my team by now.”
His upper lip sweated.
“Yes, did you know the Director is prepping you for the back door as soon as I take over this program and your job?” She held the cigar in three fingers and examined it. “It like your poor taste in cigars. Too bad you still don’t know women. Hell, I’ll bet you got short-changed each time you bought Girl Scout cookies.”
Drool accumulated on Dirk’s chin and still, he didn’t move. All the air left the room and he struggled to breath. His ability to make his own decisions evaporated with the mesmerizing tone of Katya’s voice. She moved in for the kill and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He was all ears and all hers.
“Your new lesson, Dirk, is to think about unemployment and your continued life of failure. The silver revolver in your desk holds the only relief from the pain of shame you feel for failing, again. Why don’t you take it out and show it to me?”
His right arm seemed to move of its own volition as he opened the top drawer and removed the weapon.
“Good boy.” Her voice seemed like a deep, faraway whisper. “Is it loaded?”
He held the stock close to his face and waited.
“Use both hands.”
In a trance, he tilted his head and the spun barrel. “Yes, a bullet in each chamber.”
“That’s nice, but you’ll only need one.”
A small corner of his mind shouted at him. She is the enemy. Yet as her voice purred and he leaned toward the soothing sound as though trying to catch as much of her essence as he could.
“Open your mouth like a good boy and place the barrel of the revolver inside. Hold it there. Yes, that’s right, now hold it there.”
He labored to breath and drool ran from his mouth. He wanted to take the gun out but couldn’t. His waited, breathing heavily.
“Now, cock it.”
Helpless to resist, he followed her directions. His arms grew heavy but he did not waiver.
“You could sit that way a long time Even if I were to tell you to count to a thousand, correct?”
He made a sound deep in his throat.
“Carefully un-cock the gun and return it to your desk.
“When your desk phone rings and you see it is from me, put the call on conference, and once again, take out the gun. Do you understand?”
He blinked and nodded.
“If I say to you is it time to die, you will place the barrel in your mouth and cock the gun. Do you understand?”
“Good boy. The word is die in peace. If I say die in peace, pull the trigger knowing all pain, heartache, and worry will be erased from your life and you will be happy once more. Do you understand?”
He nodded.
She blew cigar smoke in his face. “Now sleep for an hour. Today is not is good day for you to die.”
19
Director Davies
Early May, the flight to Yemen - The Drones Arrive
The remainder of the flight gave her a rare slice of free time she hadn’t had since her plan to start a new company. What time she didn’t spend actually writing proposals, researching start-up companies and negotiating with bankers, she’d spent fretting and worrying about details and failure. She slid a romance novel, minus the cover, from the Alicia Klein leather briefcase she’d treated herself to for her last birthday. The story provided escape from her thoughts that ran in circles. Thanks to Agent Fairchild, those loops have become more crowded. As if her thoughts had conjured a call, the phone he’d given her vibrated in her slacks pocket and she tapped on the text message with enthusiasm.
Dr. Mather, that man you told me about, Granger Hawking? He just called for a meeting. Please advise, Poppy.
“Oh, shit, what the hell?” She snorted in exasperation trying to wake Steve. He opened his eyes and patted himself down for his glasses. She handed him a cup of coffee and told him about Poppy’s call. “She’s smart enough to play along, but you need to be clear about what you want her to do. Will you tag or bag this guy?”
She didn’t know what number he gave her, but she liked that Poppy was on his speed dial. While they talked she went to the restroom to freshen up.
She returned shortly, and fell into her soft leather seat. “Tag or bag?”
He tossed his tab on the seat next to him. “You were right about Poppy. She’s sharp. We’re going to stall and tag him for surveillance until we learn who he represents. I’ve assigned a sharp agent bodyguard to act as Poppy’s assistant. Special Agent Carol Kennedy is one of our top field agents and has a solid background in personal security. Just in case y
ou call, know that one of her duties is to screen Poppy’s incoming calls and emails. She will be with her 24/7. My oversight, we should have thought of that before we left.”
“I’ll call Poppy with the news.”
* * *
After twenty hours on the jet, and severals hours getting through Yemen security with their fake ID and an egg sized drone with several ounces of liquid high explosives hanging around her neck, she gladly transferred to a limo for the short ride to their temporary field station, a warehouse near the airport. An escort met them inside by door and after clearing security quickly walked them to a meeting room not far from the guarded entrance. Two chairs sat opposite at the middle of a long grey table. One of the silent escorts motioned for them to sit facing a one-way mirror before returning to the door and silently standing guard. Trying to ignore the obvious mirror, she read five pages of her novel before a plain looking middle aged man in a deep navy blue suit, entered without a word. After a quick glance at Steve, he sat opposite them and opened a folder.
Another mute? She studied him trying for a quick read while he scanned the notes in his folder. After a few seconds his deadly serious demeanor dissolved into a warm smile, his eyes now seemed genuinely pleased to meet her.
“Doctor, Mather, I am Director Davies. I am very sorry we have to rush through this, but I appreciate your leap of faith to meet with me here on such short notice. I believe you may be able to help us. Where do you stand with the development of your consulting business?”
Meret lowered her chin and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “I have people working on it. My full attention is yours”. Did he know about my career change? Stupid, of course he knew, but how does that play here?