by Wolf Wootan
“Uri doesn’t know about Lincoln’s Liberators or the Shadows, does he?” asked Syd.
“Heavens no! He thinks I might hire a team of mercenaries and try something foolish with them. I think he views me as a rich amateur meddling in things that even the pros can’t solve,” laughed Hatch. “He only saw me today because he feels guilty about getting you in trouble, Syd. It salves his conscience. Plus, we had to deliver the prisoners to him.”
“You’re such a cynic, Hatch! He’s really trying to help,” Syd said.
“Why don’t I scan these photos into the computer so we can shred these documents,” laughed Sara, “while you two bicker.”
“We’re not bickering!” exclaimed Syd. “We are having a discussion.”
• • •
The living quarters on the Triple Eye estate in Istanbul were in a huge building at least 300 years old. It had been upgraded—thanks to Hatch’s endless supply of money—with air conditioning, up-to-date plumbing and kitchens, and other modern comforts, while retaining its historic charm. To Syd, it was even more impressive than Klaus Haus. Hand-tied Turkish carpets covered the floors, massive pieces of furniture which were centuries old filled every room. Dozens of rooms.
“Do you own this place, too, Hatch?” asked an awed Syd.
“No. It’s too difficult for an American to own land here. I have a very long lease. I pay an exorbitant fee—read that as bribe—to the government to ensure our privacy here. I do not need people nosing around and finding Shadow-3, and the other improvements I’ve made here. It’s 584 acres, but that helps hide things here and there.”
They were sitting at a huge table in a gigantic dining room having dinner. Several Turkish waiters hovered to make sure no desire went unfulfilled. The Shadow-3 crew had joined them. Syd had met them all earlier over cocktails, including the three wives of crew members who lived here. She had felt underdressed to go to a cocktail party, but no one else was dressed any better than she was. She thought this dining room, however, deserved better. It was fit for kings and queens and the royal court. It certainly did not bother Sara, who was dressed in very tight jeans and a top which seemed painted on, so Syd relaxed. Sara heartily hugged all the men, all of whom she had trained, and their wives.
The crew consisted of Mike Brawley, Command Pilot, former Marine gunship pilot in Viet Nam; Samuel Vickers, co-pilot, ditto; Carl Price, Chief Engineer and Weapons Specialist, former Master Chief, U. S. Navy; Marli Carson, Defensive Systems Specialist, MIT graduate in Engineering; John T. Blanchard, Offensive Systems Specialist, former B-2 bomber WIZZO; and Shirley McNally, Medic and backup Weapons System Specialist, former paramedic.
Syd noticed that Hatch was not averse to using women on his combat teams, so Sara was not an anomaly. She had learned during the cocktail hour that this team had been the one that had wiped out the terrorists in Syria, as well as some in Libya and Iraq, which Syd had heard of while she was in MOSSAD. She was quite impressed, but she was getting used to it. Mediocrity had no place around Hatch Lincoln.
Syd had asked where the crew of the GS-V was and Hatch had explained that they always stayed with the airplane, or close by, so they would be ready for takeoff on a moments notice. Also, the less they knew about what Hatch really did in various countries the better.
At dinner, Hatch explained the upcoming mission in broad terms—detailed briefings would take place the next day—and informed the crew that he and Sara would replace Blanchard and Marli Carson on the Weapons Stations, and Syd would go in place of Shirley McNally. He explained that Syd’s knowledge of the area and her language capabilities made her presence necessary. No one grumbled or argued with the boss. They just enjoyed his presence in this part of the world, which was all too rare. He was usually just a voice on the other end of a communications channel. This crew was up for rotation to the Arizona base in two months for some training on the new Shadow-5. All of them were looking forward to that.
The wives of Brawley, Vickers, and Price were especially happy to have two American women to chat with; they asked a lot of questions about fashions back home and for gossip from Sara about other LRD members and their wives. They treated Syd well, even though they were not exactly sure of her status in LRD.
After dinner, the smokers left the dining room and went to a place called the “Smoking Room.” Hatch went with them, thinking he might get away with a few puffs on a cigar.
Syd sought out Shirley McNally, the crew member whose place she was taking on the mission. McNally was about Syd’s height, but small-breasted, with short red hair and freckled skin. She was 28 years old, unmarried, and a former paramedic.
“Hey, Shirley!” Syd said, touching her elbow. “I’m sorry that I’m knocking you off this mission. I hope you’re not upset with me.”
“No problem, Syd,” she replied with a smile. “Hatch always knows best. I’ve never known him to make a major mistake—or a minor one—now that I think of it.”
“I’ve only known him a very short time, but everyone I’ve met who knows him seems to have the same feelings. You can help me out, if you would. I know why Hatch wants me on this mission, but if I’m replacing you, I would like to know a little bit about your function on these kinds of flights, in case I have to do something you would do normally,” said Syd.
Shirley looked at Syd with new respect, wondering what this woman’s background and training were.
“I was a paramedic before joining Lincoln’s Liberators. Of course Sara gave me additional training before I was allowed to fly any missions. My main function on a mission is Medic, in case anyone needs emergency medical attention. So far, thank God, my services haven’t been required. We’ve been extremely lucky. I’ve also been trained as a backup operator on the Defensive and Offensive Weapons Stations,” she replied proudly.
“I don’t think I have time to learn about those weapons things,” laughed Syd, “but I have had training in field first aid. Not up to your level, of course. What kind of medical equipment is on board Shadow-3?”
“Not as much as I would like. There’s a full First Aid cabinet on the port side, right next to the Medic Station—your seat. It includes the usual selection of bandages, antiseptics, et cetera. Also, morphine syringes, needles for stitching, splints, neck collars. No defibrillator, though,” she giggled. “Hopefully, things will go as usual and you won’t need any of that stuff. Where did you learn field First Aid, Syd?”
Syd looked into Shirley’s green eyes for a moment, and then decided that her entire background would be known by all of these people sooner or later, if they did not know already, so she decided the best approach was to be honest.
“In the MOSSAD,” she replied.
Shirley just stared at her, mouth agape.
“I know,” said Syd with a shrug. “That’s everyone’s reaction. I trained with elite Metsada strike teams, and basic field medical training was required. I just hope, like you, that I won’t be called upon to use it.”
“Wow! MOSSAD? I thought I heard Sara say earlier that you were a college language professor,” exclaimed Shirley.
“That, too,” replied Syd with a weak smile.
“You are really something, Syd! I’ll show you where everything is on Shadow-3 tomorrow, just in case. Talk to you later.”
Shirley rushed off to find someone to tell what she had just learned about the newcomer.
• • •
Syd wandered into the Smoking Room where Hatch, Sara, Brawley, Price, and Brawley’s wife Betty were having their smokes and cognac. The men were smoking thin cigars, as was Sara, and Betty was smoking a filtered cigarette. They were all laughing boisterously at something Sara had just said. Syd was surprised to see Hatch and Sara smoking cigars, since she had seen neither smoke before. She had heard that non-smokers did that occasionally.
“Hey, Dr. Z.,” yelled Sara, “there you are! How about a cigar and a brandy?”
“I’ll skip the cigar, thanks, but I’ll have a cognac,” replied Syd.
>
Hatch poured some expensive, 100-year-old brandy into a large snifter and handed it to Syd as Sara went on with her story. He clinked glasses with her and smiled.
“There is great camaraderie among these people,” Syd said softly out of the side of her mouth, not wanting to distract people from Sara’s spotlight.
“Yes. All of the teams are like this. I’m very proud of them,” he whispered back.
Syd sipped her excellent brandy while the ribald laughter continued to punctuate Sara’s dissertation. Syd had seen this sort of behavior before: a strike team getting rid of tension before a dangerous mission. She thought that perhaps she should join in, because she certainly felt the tension herself; but she was an outsider here. She had not earned their trust in long hours of training or in combat shoulder to shoulder. She leaned against a bookcase and watched in silence, sipping her drink.
Hatch saw her wrinkled brow and stepped closer to her.
“Problem, Syd?” he asked.
She looked at him and said, “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“I think so.”
“Let’s take it outside and get some air. It should be cooler out there now. Bring your drink and follow me,” he said, sidling to a door at the end of the room. It lead them outside into a balmy evening. The stars were clear in the dark sky. They sat down on a stone bench that had been constructed in the 18th century.
“Nice evening. It must have cooled off 20 degrees. What’s the prob, Syd?”
“Nothing earthshaking. It’s just that I’m an outsider to this team. I know about team training. I went through that in Israel. It’s all about building trust, and seamless teamwork. How can these people trust me? And there is no way I can perform all of Shirley’s functions on a mission. Why can’t we both go? Shadow-5 certainly looked big enough,” said Syd.
“Shadow-3 is smaller than Shadow-5. Do you doubt my mission planning abilities?”
Syd thought about that while she sipped brandy. Hatch took a puff off his cigar and waited.
Finally, Hatch said, “I agree that Shirley’s medical training surpasses whatever training you received in MOSSAD, and she knows the weapon systems. If she also could speak 17 Middle-Eastern languages, and God knows how many dialects, and if she knew Tabriz and its surroundings, and if she knew how Hamad and his henchmen thought—then, yes, she would be going instead of you. But she doesn’t—you do. There is not room for both of you, and I believe your skills are more important to the success of the mission.”
“And I thought you just liked my company,” laughed Syd.
He put his arm around her and said, “Syd, don’t be harsh with me. I do like your company, but that did not enter into my decision.”
She leaned against him, enjoying their closeness, not knowing what to say next.
“My God! I can’t believe my arrogance! I’m treating you like I had the right to make decisions for you! Please forgive me, Syd! I’m treating you like a damned asset. Those people in there get paid very well to do my bidding—six figure salaries, perks, mission bonuses, $10,000,000 life insurance policies! I have no right to make your decisions. In fact, I should have offered you compensation for this,” Hatch babbled.
“Don’t even go there, Hatch!” she snapped, straightening up and looking at him. “Besides, we’ve already had this discussion at lunch yesterday. This is my problem and I thank you for helping me resolve it. I will do whatever you think best, but I will not be paid to do it!”
He saw her dark eyes flash, or were they just reflecting the starlight?
“Why not? You know money is not an issue with me.”
“I said don’t go there, Hatch! If you paid me, I’d be working for you, right?”
“Yes, but …”
“And if I worked for you, and if I wanted to …” she said, interrupting herself to kiss him on the lips, “… say, kiss you sometimes in the future—just if—then I couldn’t do it, could I?”
Hatch was stunned! Although it was a quick, light kiss, the taste of her lingered on his lips, the taste of her cognac and lipstick. He involuntarily ran his tongue over his lips, savoring her lingering presence there.
“I said if,” she said, her voice more in control. “I like to keep my options open. Who knows what a girl might want to do to such an arrogant man!”
“And if the arrogant man wanted to kiss you, he couldn’t if you worked for him,” he said hoarsely.
“Exactly. Why preclude possible future events just for the sake of money,” she whispered.
She took a sip of her brandy and looked at him over the lip of the glass, then put the drink down on the stone bench, her eyes not leaving his. She wanted to be kissed by this man, feel his arms around her, and be wanted for just a moment.
“Well, Mr. Arrogance. Time has passed, it must be the future. Are you going to kiss me properly, or not?” she said, heart pounding.
He put his drink down and turned toward her, taking her into both his arms. He leaned and kissed her gently on the lips, feeling their softness. When they broke the kiss, she was smiling.
“Now, isn’t that better than arguing?” she whispered in his ear.
“You’re one hell of a woman, Sydney Steppe. Thanks for putting me in my place!”
“Now that I have more or less forced you to kiss me, I should apologize, but I won’t. I’ve wanted to do that since we first met—certainly since lunch yesterday. I know your problem with relationships, but I needed the kiss anyway.”
“I had a talk with the wonderful Dr. Zorrina yesterday, and she might have cured me of my problem. At least, I hope so. If I kissed you again, it wouldn’t be trickery on your part, would it?”
“I don’t think so. I got my kiss, what do you want?”
“I want to kiss you again. May I?”
“This is not a child’s game! Don’t ask, just do it!”
He stood up and she arose with him. He pulled her body to his, as he had done yesterday, feeling her breasts and thighs against him. She put her arms around his neck and they kissed deeply, gently chewing each others lips, touching tongues. They broke for air and just held each other for a long moment.
“I was trying to wait for our second date,” Syd mumbled in his ear, “but I wasn’t sure when that would happen, if ever. You don’t think I’m a hussy do you?”
“Of course not! Our lives have been so hectic, everything moving at the speed of light. At least, thanks to you, we found another moment alone.”
“Do you think they’ve missed us? Or I should say, you. Maybe we should go back inside,” she said, although reluctantly.
“Not yet. I want to savor this moment. It’s been a long time since I held a woman in my arms like this. I mean …”
“I know what you mean. It’s been over three years for me, too,” she whispered. “I feel so safe in your arms. It’s really hard being a woman who has to be strong like a man most of the time. Sometimes, I like to be just a woman.”
“You certainly feel like a woman to me,” he laughed. “All woman!”
He kissed her again, without asking permission. They kissed more passionately this time, exploring each other’s mouths with frantic tongues. While his left arm held her in a bear hug, he ran his right hand up and down her back, and over her firm butt.
“I’m weak in the knees!” she said when they broke the kiss. “Let’s sit a minute.”
They sat down on the bench and each took a swallow of brandy, breathing heavily.
“Dr. Z. would be very proud of your progress so far. Do you think you need another session with the venerable Doctor?” asked Syd.
“What do you think Dr. Z. would tell me to do next?” he smiled.
“Well, she might advise you that what worked once may work again. Kat’s petting rule might very well be the proper approach,” she smiled back.
“But tell Dr. Z. that it was pure torture!”
“And you loved every minute of it! I could tell by the way you told t
he story!”
“I suppose we could try,” he pouted. “But this is not a good place to do heavy petting. I suppose we could go and find a car and use the back seat,” he chortled.
“There is one thing that Dr. Z. doesn’t understand,” said Syd.
“What’s that? She seems very knowledgeable to me!”
“The Doctor doesn’t realize that Ms. Steppe doesn’t know whether she has the self control that Kat had. How did she do it?”
“I don’t know. She was an extraordinary woman in many ways I never understood,” he answered. Then, he sat bolt upright. “Why, you sneaky thing! You’re a woman in Z.’s clothing! You have me talking about Kat as if she were actually dead, instead of a ghost haunting me. Maybe I’ve finally let her go!”
He pulled Syd to him and kissed her again, with great passion. This time she took his right hand and placed it on her left breast. He felt its firmness, and felt the hard nipple on his palm.
“Dr. Z. is very happy!” she mumbled.
“How about Ms. Steppe?”
“So is she,” purred Syd.
Moments later, Syd broke the embrace, breathless again.
“I think we should go back inside now. You’ve had enough therapy for now,” panted Syd.
“What? You don’t trust me, do you? Neither did Kat,” he laughed.
“I trust you. I’m not sure I trust myself! I don’t want to rush things and ruin our chances. I don’t want to panic you so you’ll drop me like a hot potato! Until I find out if you are good enough for me!” she laughed, punching him on the shoulder.
Although she was elated, Syd felt curiously uneasy. What did the future really hold for her? How safe was this upcoming mission? She shivered though the air was warm.
Chapter 18
Triple Eye Office, Istanbul
Saturday, August 4, 2001
9:35 A.M.
After breakfast, the team assembled in a large room which they referred to as the “War Room.” There were several computer stations lined up in two rows. There was also a large screen on the far wall. It reminded Syd of a NASA mission control room. The crew took seats at computer stations, as did Sara, so Syd followed their lead. Hatch went to the front, stood in front of the large screen, and addressed the group.