A Lone Wolf

by J. C. Fields

  Wolfe grinned but remained quiet.

  “When we identify someone domestically that’s dangerous to our country, you will be asked to find them. Once you do, you will contact me and I will send in an apprehension team.”

  After signing the last page, and then initialing the front two, he handed the document back to Joseph and smiled. “Thanks. It feels good to be legit again.”

  Nodding, Joseph took the signed document, folded it lengthwise, and placed it in the inside breast pocket of his sport coat.

  Turning to Nadia, Wolfe said, “Guess all we need to do now is find something you would like to do.”

  Another grin from Joseph. “Actually, we don’t have to. If she wants it, she has an interview with the Branson School District tomorrow for an opening in their foreign language department as a French teacher.”

  Nadia’s smile lit up the room.

  After details of her appointment were discussed, Joseph turned serious. “What’s your connection to Gerald Reid, Michael?”

  Wolfe’s eyes narrowed. He stood and walked to the sliding glass door next to the breakfast table in the condo’s kitchen and dining area. He clasped his hands behind his back and watched the lazy flight of three turkey vultures as they circled high above the dense trees on the opposite side of the cove. He was quiet for several minutes. Joseph and Nadia watched him.

  After half a minute of silence, Joseph said, “You obviously know him.”

  “I know of him. None of it good. Geoffrey showed me a picture of the man taken by an MI6 surveillance team, oh, I guess it was several years ago. I can’t even remember the reason he showed it to me. Apparently, they worked together at one time in the past. Geoffrey didn’t care for the man. In fact, he went out of his way to tell me Reid was dangerous. Why do you ask?”

  “He sent someone to the apartment in Mexico City.”

  Wolfe turned to look at Joseph. “How do you know that?”

  Shrugging, Joseph didn’t answer.

  “I’ve never had any contact with him. Why would someone like Gerald Reid be involved?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me. All I know is he’s an assistant director in the CIA’s counter-terrorism division. He’s well connected within the ranks of CIA management and…” He let the sentence die.

  “And what, Joseph?”

  “I believe he is looking for you and Nadia.”

  Wolfe blinked a few times and glanced at Nadia. Her eyes were glued on him. “Did our ruse not work?”

  “Officially, it did. Your CIA file identifies you as deceased.”

  “What about Nadia?”

  “My contact in Israel told me it’s the same, missing, presumed dead. It’s their way of saying no body was recovered.”

  “So why is Reid still looking?”

  “I was hoping you might have some insight on the matter.”

  Returning his attention to the view outside the condo, Wolfe shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. Hell, I’ve never even met the man.”

  Nadia asked. “Joseph, do you think anyone in Israel is looking for us?”

  “I wish I had a good answer for you, but I just don’t know.” He hesitated for a moment, “Why all the fuss about you two?”

  Turning, Wolfe displayed a grim smile. “That’s the question no one’s asked yet. Who and why were we set up in Barcelona? Now we learn someone in the CIA is looking for us? And, I bet if we dig hard enough, you’d find someone within the Mossad still looking for us, despite our official status.”

  Joseph pulled a cell phone out from his sport coat. “I can’t answer those questions, but I know someone who can.”

  Chapter 9

  Somewhere in Southern Missouri

  A fter decades working for the CIA, Joseph Kincaid knew more so-called “spooks” than most people in Washington. The correct title within the agency remained operations officer. But the now former CIA employee he was calling earned his living as a consultant, a fancy way of saying he charged a lot of money for information other people needed.

  The man who answered grumbled. “What did I do to earn a call from you, Joseph?”

  Standing on the back balcony of Wolfe’s apartment, Joseph grinned. “Just checking up on you, Will. Wanted to see how you were doing.”

  “Bullshit. You want something. It’s the only time you call.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  William Fischer, better known as Will to his friends, did not look like the stereotypical Hollywood spy. On the contrary, Fischer possessed unruly dark rusty brown hair, bushy eyebrows he refused to trim, a round face accented by a board nose and a red walrus mustache. Dark green eyes saw the world through the smudged lenses of his black horn-rim glasses. His normal wardrobe could best be described as thrift shop chic—rumpled corduroy sport coat, khaki pants two inches too long, scuffed loafers and a wrinkled white oxford shirt.

  “It will cost you.”

  “Normal fee?”

  “Yeah, a pint of Guinness.”

  “You drive a hard bargain. Agreed.”

  “Okay, what do you need?”

  “Background.”

  “On who?”

  “Gerald Reid.”

  There was silence on the other end. Joseph took a quick glance at his phone to see if the call had been dropped. Finally, he heard a mumbled, “Why?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “Uh, boy. You know that killed the cat, don’t you?”

  “I’ve heard that, but I’m still curious.”

  “He’s a dangerous man. Do not get in his way up the ladder—he’ll throw you off and laugh as he watches you fall.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “No one knows Gerald Reid. No one wants to know Gerald Reid.”

  “Okay, now you’ve really piqued my curiosity.”

  “I really don’t want to discuss this on a cell phone. Call me from a landline. Here’s the number.”

  It took an hour for Joseph to return to his secluded home forty miles north of Wolfe’s condo on the lake. Using protocols learned from JR, he initiated the call from his computer, the location masked by programming he did not understand nor care to.

  Fischer answered with a hesitant, “Hello”.

  “It’s Joseph, Will.”

  “Where the hell are you? Caller ID indicates you’re calling from Oregon.”

  “A little magic and a lot of technology. I’m assured this is more secure than an encrypted landline.”

  “Huh, okay.”

  “So, tell me what worries you about Gerald Reid.”

  “It’s not really a worry.” Fischer paused. “The problem is he believes the world revolves around him and him alone. His is a world without shades of gray, only stark contrasts of black and white. You and I both know that’s an unrealistic view.”

  “Odd for someone so high up in the CIA, but I guess it’s possible.”

  “Have you ever been around him?”

  “I’m retired, remember? That’s why I’m calling you.”

  Joseph heard chuckling over the phone.

  “That’s funny, you retiring. Bullshit. You’re still up to your armpits in this crap.”

  With an amused expression, Joseph replied. “Okay, I still keep my toe in the water. How’s that?”

  “Still funny. Anyway, Reid is like a laser-guided missile. Once he has an objective targeted, he won’t let up until it is destroyed.”

  “Go on.”

  After a brief period of silence, Fischer said. “Remember the sudden retirement of Bernadine Frazier last year?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was orchestrated by Reid.”

  “How so?”

  “The how is still unknown, but my source indicated Reid wanted her job, so he went after it.”

  “Huh.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “So, one instance does not make a person dangerous, Will. What else?”

  “That’s how he’s climbed the ladder at the agency—one destroyed car
eer after another. He takes no prisoners and leaves carnage in his wake.”

  “What does the director think?”

  “Don’t know, but he hasn’t stopped him. Kind of tells you where his mindset is.”

  “Yeah.”

  “One other thing. I’m told he lives and breathes the job. Works fourteen to eighteen hours a day. He has an assistant that follows him to every new position at the agency.” Fischer paused for a moment. “Why do you want to know all this stuff?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Joseph, don’t go self-righteous on me. We go too far back. Why do you want to know?”

  “He’s looking for one of my old operatives.”

  “Why is he looking?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to determine.”

  “Well, if the guy’s alive, Reid will find him.”

  “Thanks, Will. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The call ended and Joseph sat staring at the laptop screen. It was several minutes before a small grin grew into a wide smile.

  “Do you think it will work?”

  Joseph nodded as he sipped his coffee. The three individuals sat in a small café in downtown Ozark. He looked at Michael Wolfe and then at Nadia Picard. “The trick is to get bone DNA from both of you. All DNA is the same within a given organism. It’s the cell structure that’s different. The DNA determines the function of the body part so muscle tissue and bone tissue would have a dissimilar cell structure. However, they both have the same DNA. If we want this to work, we’ll need bone cells for the DNA comparison.”

  “Bone marrow extraction?”

  “Yes, that’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Where do we get it done? It’s probably more complicated than drawing blood.”

  “Don’t know. I’m not a doctor.”

  Nadia frowned. “Even if we have the samples, how do we get them to Reid? He would demand to know the chain of custody. Otherwise, he won’t accept it as real.”

  Wolfe smiled and looked at her. “You and I can handle that. We’d just have to know where to intercept the courier.”

  Joseph emptied his coffee cup and stood. “Let me handle the details. Did you two get new passports?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. Be prepared to get on a plane at a moment’s notice.”

  “I’ve got my own,” replied Wolfe

  Joseph raised an eyebrow. “You what?”

  “I have my own plane in a hangar at the West Plains airport. Just let us know where to go and we’ll be there.”

  “Michael, you never cease to amaze me.”

  His response was silence as Wolfe took a sip of coffee.

  “Charlie Rose, or should I just call you Joseph?”

  “Whichever you prefer, Uri.” Joseph’s call to Ben-David had been answered immediately.

  “What’s it been? Fifteen years?”

  “At least. I left the agency ten years ago.”

  Ben-David laughed. “You no more left the CIA than I suddenly moved to Syria. Don’t start lying to me after all these years, Joseph.”

  “Can you talk?”

  His jovial mood dissipated. “Depends. About what?”

  “The disappearance of Michael Wolfe and Nadia Picard.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know they disappeared.”

  “Now who’s lying, Uri? Michael worked for me at one time. He’s someone I cared about and I need to know what happened to him.”

  “Are you on a cell phone, Joseph?”

  “No, secure VoIP.”

  “Very well. We don’t know much.”

  “The rumor is they were killed in Mexico City.”

  “Officially, that is the story.”

  Joseph was quiet for a brief moment. “But you don’t believe it.”

  “Belief is a nebulous concept. Let’s just say I haven’t seen bodies or DNA evidence to support believing she and Wolfe are deceased.”

  “I see.” Although Ben-David could not see it, Joseph smiled involuntarily. “Are you still looking?”

  “Not actively, soft inquiries only. Why?”

  “A promise I made a long time ago. Let me ask you a question.”

  A pause ensued before Ben-David answered. “Okay.”

  “I have, uh, someone in Mexico also doing soft inquiries.”

  “Thought you didn’t work for the CIA anymore.”

  “Uri, do I have to explain?”

  Ben-David chuckled. “No. Sorry I doubted you.”

  “If something comes of this inquiry, would your forensic team do the analysis?”

  “You act like you already know something. Be truthful, Joseph, or this conversation will end.”

  “I really don’t know anything at the moment. But you never know.”

  “Why not take this to the agency?”

  “To be honest with you, Michael did not leave the CIA with many friends. I am one of only a few and simply want to know what happened to him. That’s all.”

  “I’ll remember that. We will talk again soon.”

  Joseph closed the lid to the laptop and looked up at Wolfe and Nadia. “At least we have a path now. I think getting your DNA to the Israelis is our best bet. They will inform the CIA and hopefully you two will officially be declared deceased.”

  A grim smile came to Nadia’s lips. They were now at Joseph’s secluded log home deep in the rolling hills of the Ozarks. She turned and walked to a sliding glass door, staring out toward a tree line over a hundred feet from the structure. “Uri Ben-David is not easily fooled. How do we get the sample to him and make him believe?” She turned, her attention on Joseph. “Who is this person in Mexico?”

  The corner of Joseph’s mouth twitched. “A young recruit of mine. He also happens to be an Ex-Navy Seal. Originally from southern California, he speaks Spanish like a resident of Mexico City. He arrived yesterday.”

  Michael frowned. “Do Nadia and I need to go to Mexico?”

  “Not sure, yet. Like I told you earlier, be prepared to leave at any moment.”

  Jimmie Gibbs possessed the physique of a swimmer—tall and slender with well-proportioned muscles. Swimming was a passion for the man who still held several Navy Seal records for endurance and distance.

  After retiring from Team Six, he let his black hair grow long and kept it tied back in a ponytail that extended past his shoulder blades. As a native Southern Californian, his usual dress was surfer casual—cargo shorts, linen shirt and sandals. Today was no exception.

  Having arrived in Mexico City on his first assignment for Joseph Kincaid, he looked forward to the new challenge. During his recruitment, he was told he would be joining a quasi-CIA specialty group, utilizing individuals possessing skill sets similar to his. So far, he had not met anyone else on the team. It really didn’t matter—he was back in the game and loved it. However, on this particular day and in this particular city, he felt like he was dumpster diving. After visiting seven city morgues in two days, his frustration level grew with each failed search. He extracted his cell phone and dialed. The call was answered on the third ring.

  “Did you find it, Jimmie?”

  Gibbs knew not to give details on a cell phone. “Nah. Not yet. You sure it’s here?”

  “No, I’m not sure it will be, but we have to look. It’s important.”

  “I know, but I am running out of locations to search.”

  “How many more left?”

  “Three.”

  “Call me back when you’ve completed your task.”

  The phone went dead. Gibbs, not one to complain about an assignment, took a deep breath and continued his task.

  In the ninth morgue, he found what Joseph needed him to find. After placing a claim on the two corpses, he slipped the mortician an American hundred to seal the deal.

  At his hotel, Gibbs used his laptop, provided by his new employer, to make a more secure VoIP phone call.

  Joseph Kincaid answered immediately. “I take it you found something.”

  “Y
eah. Just what you ordered. A man and woman, neither of them possessing their heads.”

  “Condition of the bodies?”

  “Rough. Been in the elements for a while.”

  “Excellent. Where?”

  Gibbs gave him the location and the claim number he’d received from the morgue. “What else do you need from me?”

  “Keep an eye on the location. Someone will be there within twenty-four hours to secure the bodies. At that time, you’re done.”

  “That was easy.”

  “Not all your tasks will be as such.”

  “Good.”

  The call ended and Gibbs checked out to find a hotel closer to the mortuary.

  By one o’clock in the afternoon the next day, activity at the normally obscure morgue was ablaze with activity. Gibbs watched from the interior of a small café across and several doors down. Four Mercedes sedans and a black Suburban, all with diplomatic plates, were parked up and down the street. Men in suits and others dressed in surgical scrubs entered the mortuary. After thirty minutes, the men in scrubs wheeled two gurneys to the back of the Suburban. Two black body bags were off-loaded into the rear of the large SUV and it sped away.

  Gibbs picked up his phone and dialed. When the call was answered he said two words, “Package received.” Per his instructions, he terminated the connection without waiting for a response.

  He paid his bill, left the café and drove through the congested traffic to the Mexico City International Airport for his return to the United States.

  Joseph sat next to JR in a cubicle on the second floor of a building in the southwest part of Springfield, Missouri. The building contained the computer security company owned by the hacker. JR pointed to an email. “This is the main email account for the Israeli Mossad case officer operating at their embassy in Mexico.”

  Joseph shook his head, “I won’t ask.”

  “Good, I wouldn’t tell you. He is indicating the bodies are too decomposed for fingerprints to be validated. Looks like they will use bone marrow samples for the DNA test and leave the bodies in Mexico.”

  “What part of the body are the samples being extracted?”