CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Where?”
“Afghanistan. His U-2 crashed in the mountains.”
“When?”
“Nine minutes ago,” her Sergeant said. “Sir, it’s a total loss. The Air Force says that it will be days before they can even get to the wreck. They had feed from him just prior to an explosion on board.”
“And what exactly did Captain Jakkman say? Word for word, Sergeant.”
“‘Oh crap, that sucks.’ Then, the plane exploded and plowed into the mountain. The Air Force confirms that Captain Jakkman is dead by terrorist sabotage.”
“Zack,” Alex said, as an exhale. She closed her eyes.
“There’s more, sir. I received a priority email regarding the event. I tried to trace the email, but I am unable to.”
“How is it signed?”
“With a Vivaldi-scripted ‘F.’”
“What color?”
“Sir?”
“What is the color of the ‘F’?”
“Black,” her Sergeant said.
“Fuck. Can you move it to my secure area?” Realizing that she no longer had a secure office to view the document in, she added, “Scratch that. We have to come there.”
“Sir, I do not advise that you return to base,” her Sergeant said.
“Why?”
“I cannot explain.”
“All right. Can I call you back?”
“Yes, sir. Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry about Captain Jakkman.”
“Yes, Sergeant. Me, too.”
Alex’s head bowed to her cell phone. Her fingers flew across the keys. She texted this message: “z-m?” She stared at the phone. Within seconds, she received a four-letter text message: “hvhm.”
Alex dropped to her knees and wept with relief. Matthew moved forward to comfort Alex, but she blew out a breath and wiped her face. This was not the time for emotions. Eleazar’s plan was in motion. Killing Zack was his first move.
“As far as you are concerned, Zack Jakkman is dead.” Alex pointed to Troy and then Matthew. “Got that?”
Troy and Matthew nodded their heads. They had heard stories about the Fey but had never seen their sweet laughing friend, now boss, Alex, turn into the Fey. Like a flick of the switch, she was the completely cold intelligence officer.
“We have work to do,” Alex said. “We need to break into my Dad’s office. Can you guys pick locks?”
Troy and Matthew, both a little intimidated by her, shook their heads.
“Eoin can,” Alex said. “They are supposed to meet us here. Come on.”
She walked out of the suite and down the hall. Troy and Matthew followed behind her. Alex stood with her head down, thinking, as they waited at the elevator.
“Shit,” Alex said.
“What?” Matthew asked.
“We don’t have a car,” Alex said. “Eleazar has made every single thing so fucking hard. God damn it.”
“I have Erin’s bug.” Matthew held up the key to Erin’s lime-green 1964 VW convertible.
Alex looked at the men and shook her head. “Weapons?”
“There’s a baseball bat in the trunk,” Matthew said.
“Come on, Fey,” Troy said. “We’ll do it low-tech style.”
She shook her head. When the elevator bell rang, Cian and Eoin stepped off the elevator to meet up for an afternoon at the Irish Snug. Cian took one look at Alex and stepped back on the elevator. They took the elevator to the ground and poured into Erin’s tiny car.
Pressed against the back window, Alex tried to remember what security had been installed at the hundred and fifty year old building that housed her father’s office. She shook her head. She had no idea. She made a quick call for her Sergeant to run interference with the security company. Stepping out of the car, she saw the latest security addition—a US Army soldier? Standing next to the door of the office, carrying an M-16 machine gun, was Sergeant Lawrence Flagg.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Alex asked. She pointed Eoin to the door of the office.
“I was assigned here, sir,” the young man said. “I wanted to help, and there was a concern about . . . What are you doing?”
Eoin had dropped to his knees to begin working on the door. Cian reviewed the security. Cian pointed to a video camera and Troy knocked it down with the bat.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I cannot let you do that,” Sergeant Flagg said. He nudged Eoin with the machine gun.
Alex nodded toward the young Sergeant, and Troy raised the bat to him.
“Ok, I changed my mind. It’s your father’s office, after all.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Alex said. “Who assigned you here?”
“I was assigned at the last minute by Colonel Gordon, sir. I just got here. I was on site at Fort Logan when I was reassigned.”
Alex smiled. “You don’t happen to have a vehicle, do you?”
“Done.” Eoin opened the door.
“Yes, sir, an armored Expedition.”
“Weapons?”
“Just this M-16.”
“What are we doing?” Troy asked.
“I need a secure computer,” Alex said. “I set Maria up with a secure node about a year ago. I had a feeling I might need it someday.”
The men followed her through the office to a small room near the back. Flicking the light on, she moved around the desk and turned the computer on. Alex opened a closet door.
“Cian, would you mind sweeping the office for listening devices?” She gave him the device.
“How does it work?”
“Just turn it on,” Alex said. “It makes a loud noise when you find a device. Thanks.”
“What do we do when we find them?”
“Use Troy’s bat.”
Cian and Eoin began in Maria’s office and worked their way through the suite. The device screamed every two or three minutes as they found a listening device. The sound of the baseball bat smashing the devices to pieces followed each squeal.
“Jesse? Do you know her logins?” Alex asked. She tapped away at Maria’s keyboard.
“Of course,” Jesse said. He stood near the corner of the room.
“Who’s Jesse?” Sergeant Flagg asked.
“He’s right there,” Troy said pointing to the corner. “Hey, Jesse.”
“How is that fair?” Matthew asked. “You can see Jesse? Fuck. I loved Jesse, and I can’t see him. Jesse hated you.”
“I made some mistakes when we were in training,” Troy said. “But Jesse knows that I’m very sorry.”
Alex looked up from the computer. “You can’t hear him, can you?”
“No,” Troy said. “What did he say?”
“You’re still a motherfucker,” Alex said. “Can you hear him, Mattie?”
Matthew wagged his head side to side.
“Ok, I am in. Troy, can you call my Sergeant and give him this series of numbers—01 486 99, no sorry, 909 43, um, 64.”
“Shouldn’t you write that down?” Sergeant Flagg asked.
“0148690943 64,” Troy said. “What is your name again, G.I. Joe?”
“Larry, just call me Larry.”
“Use this phone.” Alex threw her cell phone to Troy.
Alex looked up at Troy, and he nodded. Clicking through to the Internet, Alex logged onto the Homeland Security site. Clicking and typing as fast as she could, her fingers flying over the keys, she pulled up the email signed with a black scripted “F.”
In the last month, she had beaten every bush and looked under every rock, trying to answer the question: “Was Joseph still a target?” The answer was an overwhelming, “No.” But Alex thought the data was too uniform. Everyone seemed to say the same words. Raz thought she was understandably paranoid.
“Don’t make mountains out of molehills, honey. We’ve got enough on our plate,” Raz had said.
Before going to bed last night, she sent one last email. This email was his response. Alex fell back in the chair an
d swore. Joseph would be killed at the ceremony today.
“Mattie? I need you to do something for me.”
Matthew nodded. Cian and Eoin returned to the office from their destructive mission.
“Would you mind calling Raz? I need you to repeat to him what I say word for word.”
“Sure Alex. Word for word.”
“Tell Raz, ‘Chocolate crepes are better outside of Notre Dame, but only after two in the morning.’ Ask him to repeat it. Then tell him: ‘Majorca is wonderful in the spring.’ He should reply by saying, ‘The summer is more romantic.’ If he does not say those exact words, hang up the phone. If he says those exact words, ask him why.”
Matthew nodded. Spies. Codes. He would make a joke or roll his eyes, but the whole thing was so damned cool. Under lowered eyebrows, he glanced over to see what Cian and Eoin thought. They watched the interactions with rapt attention.
“It’s like a movie,” Eoin said. Cian nodded, with wide eyes.
Matthew laughed and called Raz.
“Oh Mattie, can you also tell him that: Sergeant Jakkman is a confirmed casualty. Thanks,” Alex said, without looking up from the computer.
“The Jakker is dead?” Larry asked.
“Yes,” Alex replied.
Her complete focus on the computer in front of her kept her from slipping into panic. She began opening files on the Homeland Security server.
“Isn’t that your friend Zack?” Cian asked.
“Yes, my friend Zack,” Alex said. “Troy? Can you ask my Sergeant for F0810FL1230 and all of its linked documents? It looks like there are four, maybe five, documents.”
“He has already sent them to the port. I just turned on the printer, and they are printing,” Troy said.
“That’s perfect. No one will know we looked at them. Thanks, Troy. Mattie?”
“Raz said . . . wait,” Matthew looked at the piece of paper in his hand and read: “The best part about summer in Majorca is getting to see you in a bikini.”
“Really? Were those his exact words?” She smiled. Raz had apologized for doubting her.
“Yes, I told him about Zack,” Matthew said. “He did this weird thing. He kind of laughed. He said, um,” Matthew read again, “I like to see the diamond in your belly button flash against your black bikini.”
“He said, ‘your’?”
“Yes, he said ‘your’ twice,” Matthew replied.
Alex clicked through the computer to her secure area at Homeland Security and opened a sub-folder in the area where Raz had left her documents for her. She clicked open a document to find a note from Raz. In case he was wrong, and Joseph was still at risk, he had outlined four possible scenarios. She smiled.
“Troy would you mind . . .”
Troy handed her a stack of warm papers from the LaserJet next to the door.
“Thanks. I need three minutes of silence, and then we’ll meet.”
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