by Wolf Wootan
Itty-bitty! Hah! More than adequate!
She finished undressing and climbed into the roomy shower and started washing the blood off her body. She even washed her hair with the shampoo she found on the shower shelf. She got out of the shower and dried herself with a large, fluffy bath sheet. She dried her hair as best she could with the towel and wrapped a smaller towel into a turban around her head. Then she wrapped a dry towel around her body and tucked it in between her breasts. She walked out of the bathroom and found Sara sitting on one of the beds. There were several selections of clothing laid out on the other bed.
“There you are,” Sara said, smiling. “I brought you a selection of styles and colors. Take your pick. The underwear is red. It seems Maria is partial to that color.”
“Thank you so much, Sara. You shouldn’t have given me so many choices,” stated Syd, looking over the clothes.
“Well, if you want to show off what you’ve got, such as it is,” Sara giggled, “I suggest the yellow tank top. It’s a little tight on me, so it will fit you better than some of the other tops. As you can see, I prefer tight. You can always wear the red sweat shirt and hide your gender altogether.”
Syd picked up the red underwear, sat down on the bed and stepped into them. Then she stood up and pulled them on. She took off the towel and put on the yellow tank top. She studied herself in the mirror on the closet door.
“Fits pretty good. I think I will wear this.”
“Yes, it looks good on you,” observed Sara.
Syd tried on several of the pants and shorts, and settled on a pair of black shorts that fit all right, though they were looser than her own.
“Let me help you with your hair. There are a hair dryer and a brush in the bathroom cabinet,” offered Sara.
While they worked on Syd’s hair, Sara asked, “Are you ready to tell me what happened at The Blue Grotto today?”
“What has Hatch told you?”
“Nothing yet. He sent me off with you, if you remember.”
“Well, the short version is that two men attacked me and I think they were trying to drag me to their car. That turned out to be a big mistake for them. Hatch came to my rescue. He killed one, I killed the other,” Syd stated calmly while slipping into the shorts she had chosen.
“Oh, My God! It’s worse than I thought! What is the police’s position on things?” gasped Sara.
“I’m not really sure yet. There was an old lady who saw the whole thing and the story she told was favorable to us. Hatch knew the detective at the scene. Lt. Jerry Jackson. He let us leave, but we will have to make statements,” Syd replied.
“Those two men. Were they the two Arabs?” asked Sara as she sat down next to Syd.
“Yes. How did you know about them?” Syd asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Hatch called me as soon as he got suspicious. They seemed to be watching a woman, whom, I suppose, was you. I sent a guy over to get pictures of them to see if we could ID them, but they were dead by the time he got there. He still got some head shots while they were on the ground, but one of them had a real messed up face. Considering the blood on you, I assume he was yours?”
“Yeah. I kneed him in the face, as well as his balls.”
“Jeez! I want the entire story, but we had better get downstairs. Hatch wants a damage control meeting,” Sara said, rising from the bed and walking toward the door. Syd strapped on her sandals and followed her.
Chapter 11
Klaus Haus, Marco Island, Florida
Wednesday, August 1, 2001
1:30 P.M.
Earlier, when Syd and Sara went to get Syd cleaned up, Hatch and Bruno went to a large library and sat side by side at the long, mahogany conference table. Hatch gave Bruno a quick review of what had happened at The Blue Grotto.
Bruno said, “I talked to our Antiterrorist Desk in Langley and they found out that four Iranians entered New York at JFK two days ago. They came in from London on Iranian passports. The FBI put a tail on them—their normal procedure—but lost them after an hour. They could be anywhere now.”
“Sara mentioned that. They must have been looking for a tail if they lost it that fast,” opined Hatch.
“We need to track down those Iranians fast, Hatch. If, in fact, they are related to your fracas,” stated Bruno. “It would help to know if the cops have got an ID on the two dead guys.”
“Yes, to both of your statements. I don’t think the cops would tell us anything though. They might tell the FBI if they think it’s more than a simple assault. Syd could still be in danger. There is definitely something fishy here. Why was Syd a target? They were certainly following her. I don’t want us getting the FBI involved until we have some facts. But I have an idea,” mused Hatch.
Hatch glanced at his watch. It was now 1:30 P.M.
“Let’s see. It would be 8:30 P.M. in Tel Aviv. I think I’ll try a long shot and call Uri Stein. He was made head of the MOSSAD about a year ago. He signed a contract with Triple Eye to provide their daily, weekly, and monthly intelligence summaries—among other things. He might help me out. The MOSSAD keeps close tabs on the movement of terrorists in the Mideast,” Hatch explained to Bruno. “I’ll call him at home. I’m sure I have that number in my private Rolodex.”
He went to a computer terminal that was on a desk in the far corner of the library. He logged on and typed a few keys.
“Ah, there it is,” he said.
He pulled out his Blue Phone and punched in the number for the MOSSAD chief’s home in Tel Aviv. Hatch heard the clicking noise that told him that the encrypted signal was going through many repeater exchanges. The number Hatch had dialed was to a secure phone.
“Uri Stein,” a pleasant voice answered. Stein would wait until the caller spoke so he would know which language to use.
“Hello, Uri, this is Van Lincoln. I hate to bother you at home at this time of night,” said Hatch pleasantly.
“Mr. Lincoln! Don’t tell me that my people forgot to pay my bill!” laughed Stein.
“This is a secure call, Uri, so you can call me Hatch, as usual. No, it has nothing to do with your bill! I wouldn’t dare get involved in things like that. I have a favor to ask. If it violates your security protocol, please feel free to tell me so,” replied Hatch.
“Well, ask, and we will see,” was the reply.
“I was involved in an incident today, and some of the facts don’t make sense. I thought you might help me sort it out. At lunch today, a woman was attacked for no apparent reason by two Mideast goons. Although she took very good care of herself in the melee, I had to step in and lend a hand. To make it short, those two are now dead, so they cannot be questioned. Our FBI lost the trail of four Iranians two days ago. So, what I am wondering, are the two incidents related? These two seemed to be following the woman, but why? Why was she attacked? And by whom? The woman’s name is Sydney Steppe, if that helps,” Hatch finished.
There was a long silence on the other end. For a moment, Hatch thought maybe the connection was broken, which would have been very unusual on his satellite phone.
“Uri, are you still there?” he asked.
“Yes. I was digesting what you just told me,” Stein answered. “I am not sure how to respond. You are no longer with the Company, but you are still a very powerful man. You must help protect this woman, Sydney Steppe. She is in grave danger, and it is my fault. Since the Iranians have found her, I guess I can tell you some of the situation. This is strictly private, of course. Sydney, until three months ago, was a Professor at Tel Aviv University. That was her cover. She has worked for the MOSSAD for the last three years, but not under the name Steppe, of course. On our books, she is known as Anna Klein. She taught at TAU under the name of Dr. Sydney Steppe. Unfortunately, I had a double agent who sold us out and gave up the names and covers of two of our best agents. Anna Klein was one of them. It happened on my watch, so I feel responsible.”
“Whoa! Hold on a minute, Uri! Now I’m on overload. You sai
d she was a Professor at TAU?” queried Hatch.
“Yes. She was on leave from Harvard, where she taught before coming here. She had a personal agenda that you will have to get her to explain. I am already saying too much. She taught a course in Mideast culture, and several languages. She kept that job while working for the MOSSAD. It was excellent cover for her.” explained Uri.
Hatch was still stunned as he absorbed this information. Then he asked, “What did she do for the MOSSAD?”
“She worked for Metsada.”
Hatch gasped. Metsada was the Special Operations Branch of the MOSSAD. This group carried out highly sensitive assassinations, among other counter-terrorist operations, outside of Israel.
“She was an assassin?” blurted Hatch. The skills and attitude he saw her display at The Blue Grotto started to make more sense to him now.
“Yes, when she had to be. Our very best. That is, until three months ago, when she had to retire and return to the States to hide out. For three years she floated around the Middle East like a specter, carrying out whatever assignments she was given. Maybe she is as good as I once was,” Uri chuckled. “Of course, we are not having this discussion. We officially do not have assassins any more.”
“Of course not. Neither does the U. S., I hear. Do you have any idea which group, or groups, are trying to kill her?” Hatch continued, pushing for more information.
“There might be several, but for sure a group calling themselves the Wrath of Allah. This is a group she really concentrated on when her schedule allowed. Many throats were slit. They want her badly. Whether the four Iranians you mentioned are involved, I cannot say. When I get to the office tomorrow, I will see what we have on the movements of that group,” Uri promised.
“I appreciate this, Uri. And I will keep her safe. I have the power to do that, if she cooperates. Can I tell her what you have told me? Perhaps then she will let me help her.”
“If you must, but I would rather stay out of it if possible. It might make her angrier with me. As I said, a traitor gave her up on my watch. I feel responsibility for her safety.”
“Can you tell me who gave her up?” asked Hatch.
“His name would do you no good. He is deceased.”
“Good. One less loose end. Let me give you a number where you can reach me at any time, day or night. It is a secure phone.”
He gave him the number and after a few pleasantries, they both hung up. Hatch gave Bruno the highlights of what he had learned about Syd, a.k.a. Anna Klein, and the Wrath of Allah.
“Wow! That dish is an assassin? I would never have guessed! Let me call the Triple Eye Antiterrorist Desk in Virginia and tell them about the Wrath of Allah group. See what they have. Also, maybe Danny’s pictures might have hit a match on someone in our files,” said Bruno. He went to the secure phone at the end of the table and started dialing.
Hatch was now in a quandary. He had to give Syd protection until her hunters could be neutralized. How could he broach the subject that he knew she was ex-MOSSAD? How angry would she get when she found out that he had checked into her background? He rationalized that he had not really been checking on her; he was just trying to get a handle on her assailants. Uri had offered the information about her so that Hatch would keep her safe. He would have to play it by ear, and let his instincts take over.
She is as good as Uri was? He was one of the best! She must be one dangerous woman! And a University Professor? What a unique combination! And I only wanted to get a date with her! What now?
• • •
Syd and Sara joined Hatch and Bruno in the library and sat down opposite them at the conference table. Bruno had a pad of paper in front of him; the top page was half-filled with notes. Both men had drinks on cork coasters next to their notes.
“Well, you sure look better now, Syd,” opined Hatch, not missing the fact that she was braless. “Why don’t you two fix yourselves a drink, then we’ll get started.”
Bruno looked at Syd with new respect, but still enjoyed the bounce of her breasts as she walked to the bar.
The women went to the wet bar and fixed drinks. Syd switched to Diet Pepsi for now, still feeling the effects of the drinks from lunch. They rejoined the men at the conference table.
“All right, ladies. I’ve filled in Bruno on what happened at The Blue Grotto, from my perspective. I’ll bring you up to speed a little later, Sara. Right now, there are some things I want Bruno to do personally—right away. For your information, Syd, we know four people with Iranian passports entered New York from London two days ago. The FBI’s antiterrorist group did not immediately identify them as known terrorists, so they let them enter the U. S. However, by procedure, they put a tail on them. The Iranians lost the tail in less than an hour and haven’t been seen since. This could be one big coincidence, but that is why I didn’t want you to go home right away, Syd. If those two were part of that four, then there are still two more out there somewhere.
“The pictures Danny took of our two are already in our ID System. There is a low probability that we will get a match, however. So, Syd, we need your help. You said you had never seen those two before, but I sensed that you might have known why they targeted you. Am I right?”
Hatch paused at that point and looked into her dark-brown eyes. She held his stare, noticing that his eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel.
When she did not answer right away, Bruno said, “Syd, if what Hatch has said is true, you are still in real danger. We need any help you can give us so we can find these bastards.”
Syd started to get a little angry. Why were they interrogating her like this? She was the one who was attacked by two creeps whom she did not know! Honestly, however, she thought she had a good idea where those guys were from and why they were here.
There’s something funny here. They’re acting a lot like cops. Maybe I should just get up and leave. But they are right. I am probably in great danger. More than they know. Let me find out who they are before I tell them what I suspect.
She pushed back her chair and stood up.
“Look, Hatch. I owe you my life for what you did today, but you guys are coming on like cops, or FBI, or something! I would like to know who you people really are. You’re trying to ID those guys; your driver here came to pick us up wearing a weapon; you seemed awfully buddy-buddy with a homicide detective. So, what gives?” she flared.
Hatch seemed taken aback at her outburst. Sara and Bruno stared at her with their mouths agape.
Sara stood up next to Syd and said, “Christ, Hatch! Didn’t you tell her who we were before you brought her here? Come on, Syd, sit down. We really are your friends. Hatch, tell her!”
Sara put her hand on Syd’s shoulder and convinced her to sit down again.
“I’m so sorry, Syd,” Hatch said contritely. “I was in such a rush to get a handle on those guys, that I completely misjudged how our actions could be misconstrued.”
He took a sip of the drink in front of him and continued.
“I am Chairman of the Board of a company called Intelligence International, Incorporated—Triple Eye, we call it. We are in the business of acquiring, processing, and analyzing intelligence data for our various clients. Our major clients come mainly from the government’s intelligence communities.”
“You mean, like the CIA?” Syd interrupted.
“Yes, and many others. NSA, DIA, and so on. I’ll give you an unclassified brochure to read later. One of our departments pays special attention to the terrorist community. We track terrorists from all countries, and we keep a computerized data base of all those we identify. We are always trying to find them so they can be neutralized. Brought to justice.”
“Kind of like the Israelis looking for Nazi war criminals?” Syd interjected.
“Similar. Bruno here is the Chief of Security in this part of the world. Sara is the Manager of the Florida Office, among other duties. So, are you going to help us—and yourself? We are in no way associated with any governmental l
aw enforcement group.”
Syd looked around the table, pausing to peer into the eyes of each one. She was an expert at reading eyes. When she had finished, she felt that they were no threat to her. They really did want to protect her. She was not sure why.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘neutralized,’” asked Syd, still seeking more confidence in this group.
“Just what the dictionary says. We render ineffective those whom we can.”
“You’re playing with words.”
“Each situation requires different solutions. Sometimes we turn them over to the appropriate authorities—FBI, police, military. Sometimes public disclosure is enough—their own people eliminate them because of their failure. Sometimes they can be neutralized like the two at lunch today,” Hatch said, dancing around the answer she wanted to hear.
“OK. You’re still waltzing, but I can’t expect you to tell a stranger more than that.”
“We did hear from our Antiterrorist Desk, something about a group called Wrath of Allah. Does that mean anything to you?” Hatch threw out the bait—a deliberate lie.
These people are good! How did they find out about that group so quickly? How much more do they know? I think I have no choice but to trust them. The MOSSAD can’t help me here. The Wrath of Allah has already found me. I guess I could use help. I have to be careful what I say, however, or I’ll have the MOSSAD after me, too! I wonder if I should call Uri. But what could he do? Nothing!
“All right, folks. I’ve decided to trust my future—and maybe my life—to you. But first, I need your promise that what I tell you in the next few minutes won’t leave this room.”
Hatch said, “Agreed. I would like that to be both ways. You will hear things and see things that must be kept secret, also.”
“I also agree. So, let me bore you with the short version of my life story, and what I am all about,” replied Syd.