by Trevor Scott
“Are you all right?” Sirena asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“I feel great. But I didn’t drink as much rum as you.”
He said nothing as he glanced about their section of the ferry. The main cabin downstairs was filled with folks in airline type chairs lined up in rows surrounding the cafeteria. They sat along an edge alone, but with a view across the small vessel to the other side. For some reason, not many people hung out up there.
Sirena said, “We had a little fun. That’s all. Now we can move on.” She hesitated, as if trying to come up with the right words. “I really wanted to jump your bones on that mission to Morocco. But then you were with. . .”
“I know,” Jake said. “Let’s forget about it. It happened. It was fantastic. Now we can find your friend and hopefully the other girls.”
“Right.” She sat forward on her chair. “Fantastic?”
“Adequate?”
She hit him in the arm.
“Hey,” Jake said. “You started this.”
Sirena settled back in her chair. “All right. What’s the plan for Uruguay?”
“We find the guy that the pervert gave up,” Jake said.
“Right. That’s easy enough. But this guy has some pull. Not only in Uruguay but back in America.”
“You ran the guy through your sources,” Jake said.
She smiled and shrugged.
Sirena had worked for nearly every intelligence and law enforcement agency in America, as well as the Mossad in Israel. She had also worked on special assignment with Spanish Intel, which is how she had met Maria. Officially she had been a CIA employee after her work with the Mossad and Israeli Army before that. But the CIA had loaned her out to the NSA and the FBI also.
“What did you find?” Jake asked.
“Sten Larsen was the CEO of an import export business out of Maine,” Sirena said. “He was also heavily into mining, owning working interests in a Canadian company with mines in South America. With money came influence. He was a power broker from Maine to New York, giving money to both sides of the aisle.”
“That was nice of him.”
“He liked to hedge his bets.”
Jake glanced out at the water and could see the shoreline of Uruguay ahead. “But there’s more. There always is.”
“You’re right. He was forced out of his own company for insider trading. To avoid prosecution, he left America and has lived in Uruguay ever since.”
“Presidential pardon in his future?” Jake asked.
“Not that he needed one, but the last president gave Larsen a parting gift, pardoning him for crap that is still sealed away as national security sensitive.”
Jake shook his head. It was amazing how corrupt a government with the best Constitution in the world could be when placed in the hands of career politicians.
Sirena continued, “The NSA provided me with some interesting intel.”
Jake turned to her. “What? After a presidential pardon, why would they be monitoring his communications?”
“Old presidents and new presidents don’t always agree on certain actions. Anyway, Larsen has been active with a number of U.S. politicians.”
Smiling, Jake said, “Let me guess. The distinguished U.S. Senator from Oregon?”
“You got it. Among others.”
That got Jake thinking. “Do they have just the fact that they communicated, or actual transcripts of conversations?”
“They wouldn’t tell me that,” she said. “But I’m guessing both, or they would have told me.”
“What about a list of his other contacts down here?” Jake asked.
Sirena reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. “They sent me a file with his entire phone contact list, along with every call or text the man has made in the past six months. Right up until late last night.”
“Wow. You are good.”
“I have my moments.” She put her phone back in her purse.
“Are you ready?” Jake asked.
“For what?”
“We picked up two tails,” Jake said. “Well, two groups of people.”
Sirena glanced about the ferry. “Seriously? How did I miss that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, two of the men, I believe, are the same men who tailed me last night from my meeting with our Agency friend. And the other two are the cops who I’ve had run-ins with in Buenos Aires.”
“What the hell are they doing out of Argentina?” she asked.
“The cops or the Agency officers?”
“The cops. The CIA can send their people anywhere.”
“True. But why are they involved with our case? This has nothing to do with their responsibility.”
Sirena glanced about, obviously searching for any familiar faces. “What do we do?”
“Now the Argentines have seen us together,” Jake said. “Let’s split up. Let them see you and keep track of you while I have a little discussion with our Agency friends. I’d hate to out them.”
She nodded and Jake left her alone and wandered through the ferry to the last place he had seen the CIA officers. Or at least he thought that’s who they were. Both of the men could easily pass for Argentine. They could have been ethnically Hispanic or Italian, based solely on their appearance. But they had a number of flaws with their tactics. Although they had split up, they couldn’t help glancing at one another periodically.
Jake went downstairs briefly. Just long enough to let one of the men see him. Then he turned and went back upstairs—this time to an aft observation deck which was empty. With the wind and the salt air, Jake guessed not many wanted to embrace that environment.
Now he waited. But not for long. One of the Agency men came through the door, saw that Jake was alone, and nearly turned around. But then he must have thought better of his actions, knowing it would look suspicious. So, he came up for a look, nodding his head to Jake.
Now Jake had the younger man exactly where he wanted him. The guy wore khakis with tennis shoes. His most disturbing feature was his dark blue wind breaker with a bulge under his left arm. He wore his gun just like Jake in a cross draw. Jake only wore his that way in warm climates where it was more difficult to conceal his smaller handguns. The most concerning for Jake was the fact that this man reminded Jake of his own son, who was also somewhere in the field with the Agency at this time. This man also had a chiseled jaw and a muscular build. Former military, Jake guessed.
Jake moved closer to the guy and used a Texas accent when he said, “Quite the beautiful morning.” The man said nothing. So, Jake used his limited Spanish and said, “I know you speak English.”
“I don’t understand,” the man said in broken English. But he wasn’t a great actor.
“You have one of the newer comm units in your left ear,” Jake said. “Your gun is clearly visible under your left arm. You and your friend tried to tail me last night in downtown Buenos Aires following my meeting with your boss. I lost you with ease. But that was understandable considering my training. What I don’t understand is why you’re following me.”
The guy seemed to be listening to someone through his comm. Finally, he said, “We don’t have to have a reason to follow one of our citizens overseas.” His English was flawless and more than likely from somewhere in New England.
“You tell the station chief to stay the hell out of my way,” Jake said.
“Mister Jake Adams. You are a private citizen.”
“With friends in high places,” Jake reminded this man.
Suddenly the door opened and the second man came out on the deck. But he didn’t come closer. He simply blocked the door so Jake had no exit.
“We don’t care who your friends are,” the CIA officer said. “We have our orders.”
Jake could have told the man that he could have both of them assigned to some hellhole, but he decided to hold back on that threat for now. Instead, he asked, “What interest does the Agency have with this case?”
The man s
aid nothing. Okay, he wasn’t a total idiot.
Moving closer to the guy, Jake said, “You should be asking why two rogue Argentine cops are following me.”
The young officer let out a breath of air.
Jake’s phone suddenly buzzed and he pulled it from his pocket to look at it. The call was from an encrypted line, so he knew who it had to be. He slid the green button to pick up the call. “Yeah.”
“Jake, please don’t hurt my officers. They are there to simply watch your back.” It was the CIA Director, John Bradford. The two of them rarely talked. They usually went through the former director, Kurt Jenkins.
“John, I don’t need a couple of babysitters,” Jake said.
“I know. But with the recent death of the U.S. senator from Oregon, there’s a lot of heat in Washington.”
More like hot air, Jake thought.
Bradford continued, “Both of these men are former military intelligence—one from the Army and one from the Air Force. Sound familiar?”
“What do you want from me, John?”
“A little cooperation. Nothing more.”
“You could have asked,” Jake said.
“I’m asking now.”
Jake glanced at the man in front of him and then his eyes considered the man by the door. Either one of them could have been his son. “All right. They can shadow me and Sirena, but that’s it. I’m not reading them in to everything I know.”
“Eventually we would like some courtesy,” Bradford said.
“You could have my sloppy seconds,” Jake said. “Haul in that pervert from Uruguay.”
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?”
Hesitation on the other end of the line. “The man is dead. Killed last night in Buenos Aires.”
Jake’s mind reeled, trying to comprehend this news. Who could have killed this man? And did he mention the fact that he had been interrogated by two women before he died? If so, Jake and Sirena could be walking into a trap in Montevideo.
“Who killed the guy?” Jake asked.
“We don’t know. Maybe his own people.”
Or the rogue Argentine cops. Which is how they knew Jake would be on this boat. But there was more than one way to get to Montevideo from Buenos Aires. No. Somehow they knew Jake and Sirena would travel on this fast ferry.
Bradford continued, “We could use a little help, Jake. This could be big.”
He already knew this. Jake really had no choice. Not if he wanted future consideration and cooperation from the CIA. Plus, it didn’t help that his son worked for the Agency now. His son’s future career could depend on Jake playing nice. Maybe he should have stayed in Iceland.
Jake agreed to do what he could, without giving the man any specifics. Then he pulled up the camera on his phone and snapped a quick shot of both of the Agency officers.
“Why the hell did you take our photos?” the closest man asked.
“It’s for your safety,” Jake said. “If you’ve been briefed on me, then you’ve probably been briefed on my associate.”
“The woman with one name? Sirena?”
“That’s right,” Jake said. “If I don’t show her your photos, she’s might either shoot your or snap your neck.”
The officer shook his head.
“Never underestimate your opponent. Even if it’s a woman. She’ll rip your balls off and feed them to you with a nice Malbec. You understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jake smiled to settle things a bit. “You were Air Force and your friend at the door was Army.”
“How did you know?”
“I had a fifty-fifty shot,” Jake said. “You heard my conversation with your boss.”
“Yes, sir. He lets you call him John?”
“I don’t work for him,” Jake said. “I can call him anything I want. But we’re friends. Keep that in mind when you follow us from a distance.” Jake turned his attention to the man at the door. “You understand that?”
The former Army guy nodded his head.
Now Jake knew how these two had been able to catch up with him on the ferry. The only people with Jake’s phone GPS were Kurt Jenkins and John Bradford. And they were only supposed to track him in an emergency. This was also how Kurt had found him in Iceland, and he was only able to do so recently, since Jake had turned his phone off for over a month.
Jake left the two young Agency officers on the outer deck and went inside to find Sirena. She would need to know that things had changed.
•
Sirena had found one of the Argentine cops quite easily. He caught her moving through the ferry cafeteria area and decided to follow her back up to an upper level with an exterior door to the starboard side. It was a narrow passageway that allowed hearty souls to stand along the starboard rail, wind in their faces, and perhaps take a photo of the approaching city. By now they were only a mile from shore and perhaps a few miles from Montevideo.
Just a few seconds after coming outside, the door opened and the Argentine cop came toward Sirena. She had no idea at first what he intended for her, but she also wasn’t going to let him get the advantage.
The Argentine tried to grab her, but she sidestepped and parried his advance. When he tried to send a backhand to her head, she ducked and punched him in the stomach, taking his breath away. Then she swiveled around behind him and punched his right kidney, dropping him to his knees.
Struggling for breath, the man tried to get up. But Sirena shoved her knee into the man’s back while snapping his head back simultaneously. The guy crashed to the metal deck alongside the rails.
The man grunted and grasped for the railings. Sirena kicked the man in the nuts and he let go of the rail with one hand to cover his groin.
Sirena now shoved the man with all her strength, sending him over the side and holding onto the lowest railing with just one hand.
“Why did you attack me?” she asked in Spanish.
“Fuck you, bitch.”
The man’s fingers were turning white.
“Answer my question,” she insisted.
The Argentine called her every dirty name in the Spanish language. Not nice.
She put her hand on the man’s fingers and asked him again to explain his actions. But this guy was asking to take a swim in the ocean.
“All right. Then I’ll let you go,” she said. Now she peeled his fingers from the rail and watched as the man screamed and fell into the water below. She looked back over the railing toward the stern and saw the man rise up in the ferry’s wake.
“Wow,” she said. “Shit does float.” Sirena walked back into the ferry to find Jake.
16
Jake and Sirena went ashore and carried their small bags to the pier. Jake had arranged for a rental car to be waiting for them, but he didn’t want the Argentine cops following him. So, the two of them simply picked up the car keys and then found a coffee shop a block away.
Sirena went to the counter to order coffee while Jake found a table with a view of the front door and the parking lot with his rental car across the street.
She came back and sat for a moment waiting for their coffee. “Any sign of the man?”
“Just the Agency guys,” Jake said. “They rented a white Ford and are sitting in the parking lot waiting for us.” Before getting off the ferry, Jake had explained their situation with the Agency officers. Sirena wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a constant tail, but she understood why the CIA would do it. “What happened with the Argentine cops?”
“Well, that’s an interesting story,” she said. “One of them tried to attack me.”
“The young guy or the older guy?”
“The younger guy.” She smiled.
“What did you do?”
“We had a little misunderstanding,” she said. “He wished bad things on me, and I thought he needed to take a little swim.”
“How far out?”
“About a mile. But he looked like a strong swimmer.”
&nbs
p; “All right. What about the old guy?”
“You know he’s younger than you.”
“What are you saying?”
“Nothing. Just stating a fact.”
“Are you Magdalena?”
“What?”
“The name you gave the coffee girl.”
“Yes, I gave that name.” Sirena got up and went to get their coffee. She came back and handed one to Jake before sitting again.
The two of them crossed the road with their coffee and found their rental car, a silver Ford, which looked almost identical to the one rented by the Agency officers. Jake put their bags in the trunk and handed Sirena the keys.
“Why don’t you drive,” Jake said. “I need to have a talk with our friends.”
She nodded and got behind the wheel.
Jake wandered across the parking lot and stopped at the driver’s side of the white Ford with the CIA officers. He waited for the younger man to power the window down.
“Sorry, we didn’t get any coffee for you guys,” Jake said. “But I wanted to let you know that we plan to just hang out today and wander the city until we can check into our hotel.”
Neither of the Agency officers were buying it.
He turned toward Sirena and said, “She’s never been here before. She’d like to head down to the beach.”
“We’d like to see that,” the young guy said with a smirk. His partner leaned in and nodded his head as well.
“She didn’t bring her swim suit,” Jake said.
“Even better.”
“Settle down,” Jake said. “I’ll take her shopping today. You guys wouldn’t happen to have any extra comm units.”
“You could just give us your cell number,” the driver said.
“That’s Top Secret SCI need to know only,” Jake said.
“We could find it.”
Jake shook his head. “You could try. My calls and texts are routed and bounced around the world, highly encrypted. Not even the NSA can crack it. If you call from an unknown number, not on my list, you’ll get someone on the other end who has no affiliation with me whatsoever. So, good luck with that.”
“But our Director has your number,” the young officer said.