Edge of Tomorrow

by Wolf Wootan

She stood again and started pacing once more. They all watched her, waiting in silence to see what she would say. Finally she began speaking in an articulate, well-modulated voice.

  • • •

  Syd was born in March of 1968 in Los Angeles—making her 33 years old as she told her story—and was raised in and around Los Angeles and its suburbs. She entered UCLA in 1986 and received her BA in History, with an Archeology Minor. She stayed on for a year and received her Masters Degree in Mideast Culture and Languages in 1990. She found that she had an affinity for languages, hence her choice of her specialization area. Her academic record was so exceptional that she was admitted to Harvard’s Doctoral Program without any problems, and received her Ph.D. in the same area of specialization and began teaching at Harvard in 1992. She was the only woman, out of four total, to receive a Ph.D. in her chosen specialty from Harvard in the last ten years. Hence, her rapid rise in the teaching ranks at Harvard.

  At the end of 1996, she was invited to go to Israel as a guest lecturer in Judeo-Arabic languages and culture at Tel Aviv University. This was a great, career-enhancing opportunity, so she took a year sabbatical from Harvard and accepted the appointment. Since her parents had sacrificed so much for her helping her through college, Syd took them with her on a vacation so they could visit Israel, and other Mideast nations. While her parents were touring, a terrorist bomb exploded on the bus, killing nearly everybody on board, including her parents. The Wrath of Allah took public credit for this bombing. Syd vowed to avenge her parents’ death, although she had no idea how she would ever do it. She did learn that the Wrath of Allah was based primarily in Iran, so using her position as a visiting professor from America, she got herself invited to various seminars and conferences throughout the Mideast. She became a sought after lecturer on “Thought and Change in the Middle East.” She was able to do this, even though she was a woman (and not Arabic), because of her exceptional credentials. She stumbled across her first victim by accident. She was in a restaurant in an Iranian city when she overheard a man boasting about his involvement in the bus bombing in Israel. He also mentioned the Wrath of Allah several times. She took the sharp steak knife from the table and slipped it into her purse, and when he left, she followed him. She had no idea what she was going to do, but when the crowd became thick, and people were jostling each other, she found an opportunity and drove the knife into his back and into his heart. She disappeared quickly into the crowd before anyone noticed what had happened. She was both appalled at what she had done, and at the same time elated. She had an adrenaline rush. She had never killed anything before, certainly not a person, but she had meted out a small measure of justice for her parents—finally.

  As she thought about the event later, she decided that more members of the Wrath of Allah must be punished. She bought herself a very deadly dirk, an abbaya, and a sishwa (veil). She found that when she put the long, black abbaya over her clothes and head, and covered her face with the veil, she could melt into the populace and not be noticed. Just another of the hundreds of Arab women swarming around the streets. Using what meager intelligence that she could dig up, she tracked those people all over the Middle East, and dispatched them with her knife—or a handgun when she could get one—when she found them. When she found a target, she would slip out the back of her hotel dressed in her Arab garb, and when the deed was done, she would go back into the hotel the same way. She would put the abbaya, veil, and weapon into her briefcase and leave by the front entrance dressed in her Western clothes, grab a taxi, and leave the area.

  In her endeavors to garner intelligence, she asked questions everywhere. Eventually, MOSSAD agents noticed this and started watching her, trying to figure out what she was up to. Finally, she got herself into a bad situation, but the MOSSAD agent watching her saved her bacon and helped her escape. The MOSSAD, at that point, recruited her, saying that they had much better intelligence and logistics than she did. She agreed, so they sent her to their Special Ops school where she received training in all sorts of weapons, hand-to-hand combat, communications, illegal entry, explosives, false documents, and everything else she needed to know to become a first-class intelligence agent. Her training was scheduled so as not to interfere with her teaching schedule at TAU. The MOSSAD, liking her cover at TAU, arranged for her to get a full Professorship there, so she extended her leave from Harvard.

  Then her reign of terror heated up. She carried out many missions for Metsada, with the understanding that they would keep feeding her intelligence about the Wrath of Allah group, her main objective. Although she was now an expert in a variety of weapons, the knife remained her weapon of choice, in most cases, because knives were more easily acquired than handguns. Sometimes it was impractical, so she often used silenced pistols and sniper rifles, but smuggling these into a country was more difficult. She began, if the timing of the kill permitted, to mark her victims with a Z, as in Zorro. This spread fear among many terrorists all over the Mideast, since they did not really understand what it meant, or who was doing it.

  After three years with Metsada, a double agent gave her up to the Wrath of Allah, so she had to retire and leave Israel. In a way, she was relieved. She had extracted a great price for the death of her parents, and continued to have moral arguments with herself. She headed for Florida, a place where she had never been before, in hopes of eventually going back to teaching. She thought that after a while they would stop looking for her.

  “And then,” Syd said, “the incident at The Blue Grotto happened. I’m sure those two were from the Wrath of Allah. How they found me so quickly, I have no idea. Maybe you guys can help me with that.”

  She went to the wet bar and fixed herself a fresh drink. This time she made a tall gin and tonic, light on the gin. Then she sat down and took a long drink from her glass. Her throat had become dry from the talking. Her audience had said nothing during her lecture. They were astounded by her story.

  Hatch thought, I can relate to her lust for revenge! I was the same way after they killed Kat.

  Finally, Sara said, “Jesus, Syd! What a package you are! Should I call you Dr. Zorrina now?”

  There was still a deathly, nervous silence in the room. Syd looked at Sara.

  “Dr. Zorrina? Ah! I get it! Pretty good, Sara!” laughed Syd.

  They all laughed, and the spell was broken.

  “Yes, your background is quite remarkable, Syd,” interjected Hatch. “What languages do you speak?”

  “I’m familiar with the structure of most Indo-European languages, and many Afro-Asiatic ones. I’m most proficient in Hebrew, Yiddish, Farsi, Ashtiani, Rashti, Munji; many Persian and Arabic dialects. I learned Spanish as a child growing up in L.A.,” Syd shrugged.

  “I am good at languages,” Syd added.

  “So is Hatch,” Sara offered. “His specialty is European languages. Between the two of you, you probably cover the globe.”

  Hatch glared at Sara. She shrugged and took a slug of her drink. Bruno was writing furiously on his pad. He had been too dumbstruck by her presentation to take many notes while she was speaking.

  Hatch continued, “I don’t know what type of secrecy document you had to sign when you left MOSSAD, Syd, but if it is possible, any information you can give us on Mideast terrorist groups could be of use to us. The most important item right now, however, is to establish how the Wrath of Allah found you so quickly.

  “As a first step, Bruno, take a surveillance van and check out Syd’s house. If you find any watchers, let me or Sara know immediately. When you are absolutely sure the place is clear, go in and check for bugs and cameras. You know the drill. Sweep it good. Syd, we’ll need your house key, if that’s OK.”

  Syd nodded. “It’s in my purse upstairs. Feel free to rifle my purse when you leave, Bruno.”

  Hatch went on. “Syd, does anyone know you’re here? Any family?”

  “Oh, My God!” Syd gasped. “My sister! She lives in San Francisco. I called her when I got here and told her that
I was no longer in Israel. I gave her my phone number! If there’s a bug at her place, they could have found me easily. How could I have been so stupid?”

  “But how did they find her so easily?” mused Hatch. “Did you use the name Steppe in Israel?”

  “At TAU, yes. I was Professor Steppe. My sister is a lawyer, Karen Steppe. Although I was known as Anna Klein in the MOSSAD, her name was in my dossier at MOSSAD, as in ‘Whom to Notify.’ They would be able to find her easily, since they got my file from that traitor.”

  “Then, let’s assume she could be the link. That means she is in danger, too, Syd. You can’t call her and warn her. That would tip them off that we are on to them if her phone is really bugged.”

  “I wouldn’t want to call her anyway. What would I tell her? She doesn’t know what I really was doing for the last four years. She thought I was teaching. What can I do? She must be in danger because of me!”

  “Calm down, Syd. Let us handle it. Give Bruno your sister’s address and telephone number,” said Hatch.

  Bruno passed her a piece of paper and a pen; she wrote it all down and passed it back to him.

  “OK, Bruno. Call the San Francisco office and have them check this out. Tell them to pose as City Inspectors checking for Radon. Routine check. First, have them check for watchers, just in case. When they get there, have them call me. We have to decide how to handle the sister if we conclude that she is in danger,” stated Hatch.

  At that point, Bruno left the room to take care of his multiple assignments.

  “Thank you, Hatch!” sighed Syd with relief. “You really are a resourceful man. You save my life, and now you are looking after my sister, and keeping her from knowing what her sister really is. And what a fuck-up I am!”

  “Now, now, Syd,” clucked Hatch. “You figured your were safe once you got out of the Middle East, and landed in this obscure part of the world. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’ll know more in a couple of hours. Sara, why don’t you show Syd the grounds—the pool, golf course, boat dock, the bay. I have a few phone calls to make. Let’s meet at the gazebo at the pool at 4:30. Maybe I will have some news by then.”

  He watched the swish of her butt as she followed Sara out of the room.

  • • •

  Sara led Syd out the back of the house to where several golf carts were parked, hooked up to their battery-charging umbilical cords. She disconnected one and they climbed aboard and took off on a tour of the vast grounds. Or at least part of them. Sara did not want to show Syd the “North Forty” yet. That was where the shooting ranges, training facilities, and helipad were located. Sara did not know how much Hatch wanted Syd to know at this time.

  As they drove along, Sara pointed out the various sights they passed.

  Syd asked, “Sara, I told you my life story in there, including the fact that I spent several years being a spy and killing people. And I told you why. So you know a lot about me, and I still know nothing about you or Hatch. To begin with, what is your relationship with Hatch? Are you …?”

  “Lovers?” Sara interrupted. Then she laughed. “In love with him? Of course. So is Mrs. C. So are most women who know him. Lovers, though? No. I wish. It’s not allowed. Fraternization, I mean. He’s my boss. No screwing around amongst the chain of command. We have to get our sexual pleasures outside of the organization. You’ve already got your eye on him, haven’t you?”

  “Sara! I just met the man! So, tell me about you,” Syd said, trying to steer the conversation away from the direction it was going, because she really did have her eye on him.

  “Well, I’m a five-foot-eleven, gorgeous, statuesque blonde with a good firm body, a 40-D chest that drives most men mad, and 145 pounds of pure muscle. I’m 39 years old and holding,” laughed Sara. “But that’s not the answer you wanted.”

  Syd had to agree with Sara’s assessment of herself. Her blonde hair was cut short, but was attractively styled, and accented her chiseled, classic face. Her eyes were a clear blue.

  “I am used to being the tallest girl in a crowd. It’s nice being around someone taller than I am. I don’t envy your 40-Ds though. I’m completely happy with my 36-Cs,” laughed Syd in response.

  “Meow! OK, continuing, let me first say—before filling you in on my uninteresting background—I am normally a very easy-going person, but if anyone fucks with me or mine, I am their worst nightmare!” Sara said with feeling. “I may not be Dr. Z., but I, too, am a very dangerous woman when I have to be.”

  “I kind of sensed that about all of you. There is a lot going on around here that nobody has told me yet. For example, are we under surveillance right now? Is this place loaded with cameras and microphones?”

  “No, and yes. During the day, except for the perimeter, everything is turned off. At night, it is all turned on. Hatch feels the employees should have privacy while they are on the job. So, nobody can hear what we are saying, if that is your concern.”

  Sara turned down another road and headed toward the dock. She parked next to a rustic boat house with life buoys and boat hooks hanging on it. It was a large dock with two boats tied up to it. One was a wooden Chris Craft speed boat with three seating areas. The other was a thirty-two-foot cabin cruiser with a flying bridge. The bay, which Syd assumed, correctly, connected somewhere to the Gulf of Mexico, was large. Syd could see land at a distance off to her left.

  “This is gorgeous, Sara! It is quite a place, what I’ve seen so far. But why here in this part of Florida? I would think someone of Hatch’s stature—head of a large company—would be closer to the action. Miami, or the Keys,” observed Syd.

  “He likes privacy. There is a lot of land here, and it’s very private. We’re not far from the action by helicopter,” explained Sara.

  “If he’s the Chairman of the Board, who is the CEO of Triple Eye?” asked Syd.

  “Until last Friday, Hatch was CEO, too. He turned the reins over to someone else so he can spend more time on other things. The new CEO is an old timer, Jane Forbeson, who has been with him since the beginning.”

  “A woman? Good for him! At least he’s not sexist!”

  The two women sat down on a wooden bench and gazed out at the water.

  “Before we head back, and get ready to meet Hatch at the pool, I’ll give you a quick snapshot of my background. I got out of high school in 1979 with no idea of what I wanted to do with my life. During my teenage years, I was pretty much a loner—had trouble getting dates with boys.”

  “You? I would have thought you would be fighting the boys off!” exclaimed Syd.

  “Not back then. I was tall and gangly, small boobs, braces on my teeth. I got good grades, but the only sport I tried was volley ball. By the time I graduated, I was starting to fill out, gaining some weight and growing a chest. I did get invited to the Senior Prom, but the guy was shorter than I was, so I really didn’t have a good time. After I graduated, I couldn’t afford college, and I heard that if you joined the Marines, you could earn money for college. I talked to a Recruiting Sergeant and he talked me into it, telling me they would teach me a trade. To make a long story short, I joined up, qualified for Officer’s Training after two years, and stayed in over sixteen years. I was a major when I retired.”

  “Wow! I’ll bet you had some exciting experiences being a Marine officer—and a woman!” exclaimed Syd. “Why did you retire before your twenty years were up?”

  “Nothing as exciting as you, Dr. Z., but some occasional hairy stuff. I quit early to go to work for Hatch. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse,” answered Sara.

  “An offer to do what?” asked Syd.

  “Look, Syd, I’m getting on shaky ground here. Like I said, we cherish our privacy, and we have severe security requirements from our clients. For now, suffice it to say that I am the Manager of Triple Eye’s Florida office. We can check with Hatch later and find out how much detail he wants you to know,” hedged Sara.

  “Well, that sounds suspicious, but coming from where I’ve been, I ca
n understand about keeping your mouth shut,” laughed Syd. “Let’s switch subjects. Who is Hatch, really, and how did you meet him?”

  Sara looked at her watch and stood up.

  “Let’s start back. I’ll talk on the way, again leaving out some details,” said Sara.

  They climbed into the golf cart and headed back to the house.

  “Van Lincoln is a very important man in this country—in the world. I’m surprised you don’t know that,” said Sara.

  “Well, I’m not the type to read the Wall Street Journal, and I’ve had a bit of tunnel vision the past few years,” rebutted Syd.

  “Have you ever heard of Lincoln Computers?” Sara asked.

  “Sure. I’ve got a Lincoln laptop. Don’t tell me he’s that Lincoln?”

  “Yes. And a lot more. In case you have been wondering, Hatch will be forty nine next month. He’s one of the richest men in the world. No one really knows his actual net worth, but conservatively he is worth more than Bill Gates, Oprah, and Martha Stewart combined.”

  “A multi-billionaire?” gasped Syd.

  “Yes. Now, for his life story, I’m going to stick to what’s in Who’s Who.”

  “He’s in Who’s Who?” interrupted Syd.

  “Of course. Now, let’s see. When he got out of college, he joined the Air Force and became a pilot. Public records do not make it clear exactly what he did there, but he was in over six years and reached the rank of major. They do say he served in Air Force Intelligence. He got out of the Air Force at the end of 1979 and immediately joined the CIA.”

  “CIA? So he was a spy, too!” blurted Syd.

  “That’s not clear in Who’s Who, or any other public records. You know how tight-lipped the CIA is. It just says he was an analyst for the CIA from January 1980 until August 1985. Then he retired and started Triple Eye, which serves mostly the intelligence community,” answered Sara.

  “I can tell you know more than you’re saying, but go on. Stick to the public record, if you must.”

  “Triple Eye grew, he started Lincoln Computers, Lincoln Research and Development, and a Satellite/Communications company. This is all under the umbrella of the holding company Lincoln Industries. They are all doing fantastically well, and he is very wealthy—and powerful. For some reason, he is a devout antiterrorist, hence his interest in helping you. He really wants to get those guys out of circulation.”