Operation Sheba

by Evans, Misty

  Plan A was definitely shot. Within hours, if the damage was not controlled, Susan could find herself in jail, on the run, or worse.

  Fortunately for Susan, not even Daniel or Cari knew all the details of her alternate plan.

  Susan set the globe down and picked up her desk phone. In less time than it took for the globe to make a full rotation, she placed a call to a man as desperate as she was.

  Instantly, Plan B was initiated.

  Arlington

  “Is Julia safe?” Smitty asked Conrad.

  “She’s fine.” Con glanced over his shoulder at her in the backseat. She was staring out the Jeep’s back window, but he knew she wasn’t seeing the rain or the dark landscape they were passing by. They were on their way to a safe house Conrad knew was empty. A place Susan would never think to look for them. “The Queen shot Ben Raines.”

  “No kidding? Injured or dead?”

  “He won’t be using his gun hand ever again.”

  Smitty whistled under his breath. “Self-defense, right?”

  “Of course. You should have seen her,” Conrad continued, hoping he might bring Julia out of her melancholy. “Dropped Raines like a pro.”

  “Tell her she did well.”

  Conrad moved the phone and said to Julia. “Smitty says you done good.”

  Julia looked at him, tried a smile and then turned back to the window.

  “Did you tell her about Cari’s father?”

  Conrad spoke to Julia again over his shoulder. “Cari’s father is none other than Senator Daniel King.”

  Surprise registered on her face as she met his gaze. “I bluffed and told Michael to tell Susan I knew who it was just to throw her into a tailspin, but I never would have guessed it was King.”

  “Did you hear that?” Con asked Smitty, smiling at Julia’s deviousness. What would Susan think about that?

  Smitty confirmed he’d heard her. “She’s been hanging around you too long.”

  “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “I’m headed to Stone’s house. I walked him through all our information. He wants me to present it to Titus.”

  Conrad rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah? What did he say about it?”

  “You mean, what did he say about you?”

  “That too.”

  “He called you a perfidious ass.”

  This time Conrad whistled. “I can feel the love. Stone always was too huggy for me.”

  “He wanted you to come with me, but I explained your predicament with Julia and Susan. He said he’d put Susan under watch but he couldn’t ask for an arrest warrant until we present everything to Titus.”

  “He’s right,” Conrad said.

  “I’ll let him know you concur.”

  “Just convince him, Smitty. Otherwise we’re all in a world of hurt.”

  “No problem, Conman. This is my area of expertise, remember?”

  “Any thoughts about what Susan’s doing right now?”

  “Plan B, I assume.”

  “Exactly. Watch your back, partner.”

  “Ditto.”

  Conrad closed his cell phone and ignored Ace’s look of inquiry. Julia spoke from the backseat. “What did he say?”

  “He told Stone everything over the phone and now he’s going to meet with him and Titus. They’ll get a warrant for Susan once they have all the evidence.”

  “What did Michael say about me?”

  Ah, Conrad thought, that’s what she really wants to know. “Smitty didn’t mention anything.”

  “Oh.” She turned back to the window.

  He racked his brain for something to distract her. “Stone did however call me a perfidious ass.”

  That worked. She raised an eyebrow at him and a small grin passed her lips. “That’s it?”

  “What do you mean, is that it? I just saved his career and the CIA from ruin and he calls me a perfidious ass.”

  “What’s perfidious mean?” Ace asked from the driver’s seat.

  “You deceived him and stole his girlfriend out from under his nose,” Julia said to Conrad. “I think technically ‘ass’ is a pretty mild revilement.”

  “Revilement?” Ace looked at one and then the other in his rearview. “This is some kind of spy talk, isn’t it? Okay, I’m down with it. Just tell me what it means.”

  Conrad ignored Ace and turned his head away to look out the Jeep’s window, but inside he was smiling to himself. It didn’t matter what Stone called him. Julia was right.

  I got the girl. Game, set, match, Conrad Flynn.

  Michael handed Titus his requisite martini and sat behind his customized mahogany desk.

  Titus took a sip and sucked the olive off the toothpick. “So my CTC chief is bringing down the house of cards, is that what you’re telling me, Michael?”

  Thunder sounded overhead. “Yes, sir. Looks like she was shooting for your job ultimately.”

  Titus was quiet for a long minute, savoring his martini and staring at the wall. He sucked his lined cheeks in. “Never did trust that woman.”

  Michael let his surprise show. “Sir?”

  “Always knew she was after my job.” Titus finished off the martini and set the glass on Michael’s desk with a flourish. “Had the hots for her once. Thank God she rejected me or she’d have busted my balls and taken over my job years ago. She was in love with Daniel King back then and couldn’t see I was the better man.” Titus winked at him.

  At a loss for words, Michael just stared at his boss as the DCI went to the wet bar and mixed another drink. He came back to the chair and kicked his cowboy boots up on Michael’s desk. “Don’t look at me like that, young man. You’re in quite a pickle yourself with a woman right now. Lust makes us do stupid things.” He shrugged. “This Torrison, she worth damaging your career for?”

  Michael sat back in his chair. “Is my career damaged?”

  Titus waved him off. “Don’t be stupid. Your career is just taking off. I’ve been priming you to take over when I retire.” He pointed a weathered, but well-manicured finger at Michael. “Mind you, I’m in no hurry.”

  “I thought you were coming here to fire me.”

  “Fire you?” Titus laughed. “I was coming to tell you about Cari Von Motz.”

  Again Michael was at a loss. “You were coming to tell me about Cari Von Motz?”

  “She contacted me yesterday down in the Keys. Damn if I know how she got my cell phone number, but she told me some interesting stuff about you and Torrison, Flynn, Smith and Susan. Confirmed what I suspected. I flew back today to tell you Susan was gunning for you and your girlfriend. I figured I was next in line.”

  “So you knew?”

  Titus smiled at him. “This old spy ain’t as stupid as he looks. I’ve had my suspicions about Susan over the years, but could never prove a damn thing. I was hoping you’d keep her in line. That’s why I saddled you with her.”

  Michael stared in disbelief. “And did you know Flynn was alive before Cari told you?”

  “Ah,” Titus said, raising a finger. “Now that boy is an operator after my own heart. Can you believe him?” He shook his head and laughed. “A sac of steel, he’s got! I was never that good.”

  Michael jabbed the end of his pencil into the top of the desk, noticing that Titus had not answered his question. “Flynn faked his death and misled all of us, Director. I hardly think he’s a hero.”

  The old man dismissed his concerns with a wave of his hand. “Pull your shorts out, Michael. Flynn’s the best spy you’ll ever have working for you. Sometimes he’s unconventional, but he gets the job done.” He eyed Michael for a moment and then the boots came off the desk. “Wait, this is about Torrison, isn’t it?” He snapped his fingers. “Now I remember. She was Flynn’s partner in Europe, wasn’t she? That’s why you’re so upset.”

  “I’m not upset,” Michael lied.

  Titus nodded with a sure you’re not look on his face. “All right, I’ll let you deal with the two of them.”
He sat back. “I invited Daniel King to talk to us here tonight. Thought we’d interrogate him a little and see if he gives anything up voluntarily. He should be here shortly.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “You think you can get information about Susan’s schemes from King? He’ll feign ignorance or deny it.”

  “He might, but it will be fun putting him on the hot seat.” He rubbed his hands together with anticipation. “King wants to be President. He stands to lose more than Susan’s ever dreamed about. He won’t jeopardize that. If his ass is on the line, he’ll give her up without blinking and that’s worth more to us than Cari Von Motz’s journal and Flynn and Smith’s evidence.”

  Michael considered the old spy’s reasoning. Having an esteemed leader of the senate come forward and testify against Susan would certainly solidify the others’ stories. “Smith claims King signed off on Susan’s operation to charge Julia and the rest of us with treason.”

  “She covered her backside. I’d have done the same thing. That way, if her plan doesn’t succeed, she can put the blame on King. His name’s on the line, not hers. She could conceivably make it look like it was his idea and exonerate herself.”

  “Why would he sign it then?”

  Titus shrugged. “She’s always been very acute at working every angle. She either blackmailed him with Cari or promised him something to further his career. Probably both, knowing her.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” Michael tapped his pencil. “You want to be bad cop or good cop with King?”

  It was Titus’s turn to look surprised. He smiled at Michael and returned to the bar with his glass. “You’re going to make a good DCI some day, Stone.”

  He stuck an extra olive in his dry martini and saluted Michael from across the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Houston, we have a problem. Ryan Smith watched the black Lincoln Town Car thirty yards ahead of him stop at the gate to Stone’s house. The guard checked the driver’s credentials and waved him through. The car’s plates read SENKING. Smitty drove on by. Michael Stone had not mentioned Senator King being in attendance for their meeting, and with his involvement with Susan and the afternoon’s melee, Smitty was reluctant to venture into the gated property. Only a careless man would assume he was safe at this point, no matter what his boss said, and Smith was anything but careless.

  Half a mile south of Stone’s house, Smitty pulled the van over and killed the lights. He watched the rain run in rivulets down the windshield as he contemplated his next move. Lightning flashed in the valley and thunder followed a few seconds later. Zipping up his jacket and pulling on a cap, he wished begrudgingly Conrad were with him instead of with Julia. Sneaking around in the woods at night during a thunderstorm to do surveillance wasn’t his idea of fun. Con’s, yes. His, definitely no.

  But Conrad wasn’t there and Smitty was, and Stone and Allen were waiting for him. Pissing off his boss and his boss’s boss by being late wasn’t his best career move, especially while AWOL, but ending up dead or in jail was far worse. Even Conrad couldn’t help him if he was dead, and he’d probably already damaged his career beyond fixing at this point anyway.

  Grabbing his flashlight and night-vision binoculars, he locked up the van and backtracked along the road at a run until he was less than one hundred yards from Stone’s property. The rain was coming down in sheets and he was already drenched. Ducking into the tree line, he felt the rain ease but the darkness, if possible, got darker.

  He stood still for a moment, closed his eyes and willed the sudden rise of claustrophobia back down. It was just like camp—dark as hell, raining, bullies ready to jump out at you on all sides like a carnival funhouse. It was almost worth turning around and taking his chances with Stone, Allen and King.

  But he didn’t turn around. Following his flashlight’s beam, he cut through the woods in an easterly direction, moving as quickly as the rough, muddy terrain would allow. He hunkered his shoulders under his jacket and wondered what his chances of getting a decent letter of recommendation from Stone were after this was over. From the annoyed tone in Stone’s voice, Smitty guessed his chances were slim to none.

  West Virginia

  Conrad sloshed a half-inch of Chivas into the bottoms of the two glasses on the worn countertop in front of him. He’d found the bottle of whiskey in the pantry behind the cans of tomato sauce and mentally thanked the last guest of the CIA safe house for leaving it behind. It wasn’t his brand, but it would do.

  Setting the bottle down, he listened for the sound of movement in the old farmhouse…feet moving across the scratched and faded hardwood floors, the sound of the shower running, the groan of bedsprings or a squeak of hinges from a door swelled with oppressive humidity. Ace was gone, Smitty was at Stone’s house, but Julia was somewhere above him, and his senses strained to pick up her presence.

  Only the scratch of a maple tree branch against the window outside broke the silence in the deserted house. Spider webs and dust, which had accumulated exponentially over the months of inactivity, coated everything. A musty smell permeated the air. Conrad cracked open a window.

  Set across the state line in West Virginia, the two-story farmhouse wasn’t far from the Appalachian Trail, but it was far enough from the people who had equipped it to hold human assets.

  Running surveillance on the house off and on for over two months, Conrad knew the house had not been used during that time. Non-perishable foods were stored neatly in the pantry, men and women’s clothing hung in the bedroom closets, waiting for the next temporary houseguest. A secret room in the basement held a cache of communications equipment. A Honda Civic sat in the barn along with a backup generator, battery charger and a carefully hidden and highly efficient armory of weapons.

  For tonight, he hoped he didn’t need any of those things. He simply needed a safe house, one that would grant him a stiff drink, a shower, a soft bed and time to think.

  The papers Julia had stolen were in Stone’s hands along with the disc. Possession of those documents, Cari’s journal and his and Smitty’s evidence all provided Stone and Allen with a tidy and satisfying wrap-up to the problems plaguing the CIA for the past year and a half.

  With what he knew from eavesdropping on Susan and the Senator, and from what Julia had garnered from the Operation Sheba documents, the overall picture was less puzzling, but no less dangerous. He could see what a fool he’d been, how he’d put his trust in the wrong person.

  However, there was no benefit in dwelling on his mistake tonight. Time would balance the scale of right and wrong and an opportunity for revenge would present itself soon enough. He’d take it without hesitation after he was sure Julia and Smitty were safe.

  Throwing a shot of the Scotch whiskey into the back of his throat, he swallowed it with a grimace and set the glass back on the counter. As he emptied his pockets of a handful of change, his wallet and his cell phone, his mind registered heat spreading in his stomach. He refilled the glass.

  Unanswered questions about Susan’s Plan B cycled through his brain, but now that he knew who his real opponent was, he could guess her next move with some degree of accuracy. While she probably didn’t realize it, she was no longer in control of the playing deck. He was. And while he didn’t always play exactly by the rules, he held himself to a high standard of integrity, despising cheaters whose actions were unjustified or self-serving. Susan Richmond’s betrayal of her country and her honor for self-gain was unacceptable. Her actions had sacrificed countless operations and the lives of multiple CIA officers in the field as well as endangering her own countrymen. She had to be stopped.

  On the surface, it was easy for him to calculate her downfall, but underneath the forced indifference of intellectual reasoning, Susan’s betrayal scratched his soul as raw as the whiskey did his throat. All the years of cultivating trust, shattered into a jagged-edged pill he had to swallow.

  You can only be betrayed by someone you trust, Flynn.

  A second shot of whiskey cleared
his throat and assaulted his intestines. This time he allowed himself a moment of emotional release. The empty glass flew through the air, exploding against the far wall and sending fragments flying over the kitchen table and under the chairs.

  Turning his back on the broken glass, he grabbed a replacement from the cabinet, rinsed it in the sink and poured two fingers of Chivas again. He recapped the bottle, slipped it back into its hiding place in the pantry and listened to the house. Hearing nothing but the tree branch continue its grazing of the window, he slid his fingers around the two waiting glasses and went to find Julia.

  She was standing in the bathroom in front of the mirror, twisting the ring on her finger. He handed her one of the glasses. “Drink,” he commanded.

  She did, shivering as the whiskey ripped down her throat. “Ugh.” She stuck her tongue out. “That’s awful.”

  “Strip. Clothes, shoes, everything.”

  Julia handed him the glass. “Your seduction technique could use some work.”

  Conrad snorted as he turned the shower on hot. “As you well know, my seduction technique is first rate. This is my survival technique and it’s even better. You’re going into shock, Julia. Now get your clothes off and get in the shower.”

  Julia shivered under Con’s fingers, the stress of the past two hours bleeding off like a second skin. If she followed her usual pattern, the shakes would start soon. She needed to follow his advice and get warmed up, but she was still feeling hurt that Michael had not asked Smitty about her.

  “Have you ever been hurt by someone you love, Con?”

  The faintest of sighs escaped his lips and she saw him struggle with his next words. “I’ve only ever loved you, Jules. And, yes, sometimes you’ve hurt me.”