A Lone Wolf

by J. C. Fields

  With a neutral expression, the ex-Marine nodded. “I agree, that’s a difficult shot, especially on a winding beach.”

  “Exactly. You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”

  “I was at a conference in Dubai at the time.” Wolfe paused. “So, what does this have to do with making a deal with the devil?”

  “I’m getting to it. Because of my initial investigation during Desert Shield and Storm, the CIA and Mossad took it upon themselves to offer assistance. It just so happened the CIA assigned a young recruit named Gerald Reid to the task. It was also Asa Gerlis’ first overseas assignment for the Mossad. There I was, a ten-year veteran for Her Majesties Foreign Service, basically training two rookies.” Canfield took a sip of his gin and tonic. “You haven’t asked what we were investigating.”

  “I don’t have to. I know.”

  “Figured you did.”

  “General Little, with the help of his junior officers, was looting antiquities from Kuwait and parts of Iraq.”

  Canfield nodded. “Do you know what happened to those objects?”

  “No, I just knew what he was doing.” Wolfe felt a small pang of guilt about lying to the older man, but he did not need Canfield asking too many questions.

  “There was a secret auction held in Geneva. Conservative estimates on the dollar value of that sale reached one hundred million dollars. Remember, I said conservative.”

  “Why didn’t Interpol shut it down?”

  “Because the auctions were not public and all the pieces went to private collectors. It was over before anyone knew what was going on. By then the evidence had disappeared, the men behind it hid their money and General Little was untouchable in Madagascar.”

  “Apparently not too untouchable.”

  “Figure of speech, my boy.”

  Wolfe stared at Canfield for several awkward moments until a small smile creased his face. “Let me guess. You, Reid and Gerlis discovered all of this and made a deal with Little to keep quiet.”

  Canfield nodded his head. “Not proud of it, but we did.”

  “How much, Geoffrey?”

  “I don’t know what Reid or Gerlis got, but my share paid for my retirement.”

  “Wasn’t it equal?”

  “No. I wanted nothing to do with it at first. But once they told me what would happen if I didn’t, well…” He paused. “Let’s just say they convinced me it was time to retire. So, here I am, enjoying my Senor years in a warm climate with a female companion who takes care of me.”

  “You mentioned earlier you think Reid tried to have you killed.”

  “Almost succeeded.”

  “Why do you think he did that?”

  “Because they have continued to dabble in stolen art and felt I was a liability.”

  Wolfe remained quiet for several seconds. “So, who faked the heart attack and autopsy?”

  “Doctor friend of mine.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he’ll give you up?”

  “Who do you think my female companion is, Michael? She wanted out of London as bad as I did.”

  Wolfe laughed. “Good for you, Geoffrey. There’s one problem though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Reid and Gerlis must think I know something about all of this.”

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because they both knew I worked with you. They set Nadia and me up. We were targets of a sniper in Barcelona. Now they have people looking for us.”

  Canfield stared at Wolfe for a few moments, took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Michael, you, of all people, are more than capable of taking care of a problem like that. Plus, you have the help of Ms. Picard. If memory serves me, she is just as capable.”

  Wolfe shot a quick glance at Nadia, who shrugged. Returning his attention to Canfield, he stood and said, “I appreciate you telling me all of this, Geoffrey. I wish you happiness and a long life. If you ever need anything, let me know.” He handed his ex-controller a folded sheet of paper. “As far as I’m concerned, you died of a heart attack in London.”

  Opening the note, Canfield read it, smiled, refolded it, and placed it in his shirt pocket. “Thank you. One more thing.”

  “Yes.”

  “Gerald Reid and Asa Gerlis were on the veranda in Madagascar when William Little met with his accident.”

  Wolfe’s mouth twitched as he stared at Canfield. Without saying another word, he and Nadia left the darkness of the bar for the bright Caribbean sunlight.

  Escape slid through the calm waters north of Grand Cayman on its journey back to Key West. Wolfe and Nadia stood on the bow, watching the water pass by the ship. In an unspoken agreement, they did not discuss the meeting with Geoffrey Canfield until far out at sea, away from curious ears and electronic eavesdropping.

  “Do you believe Geoffrey, Michael?”

  “Until I know different, yes.”

  “He could still be involved with Reid and Gerlis.”

  “He could. But…”

  “You know him better than I do.”

  “He’s very capable of deception. It’s in his DNA. But this time…” Wolfe shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Now what?”

  “Remember the text message I received after you arrived at the table?”

  She nodded.

  “Someone triggered the security cameras on the sheltered house.”

  Nadia remained quiet as she glanced at Wolfe then back at the water. After several moments, she said. “Did you see who it was?”

  “Haven’t looked at the video yet. We’ll have to wait until we get to Key West before I can get a cell phone signal.”

  “You don’t seem upset about it.”

  He shrugged.

  She turned to look at him. “You knew they would find it, didn’t you?”

  “You just used contractions in two consecutive sentences.”

  After closing her eyes, she shook her head slowly. “You are avoiding the question.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  She glared at him in silence.

  He glanced at her as the corner of his mouth twitched. “It was inevitable. Reid was not going to give up. He would have kept looking for us and it might have been at a time when we weren’t prepared. Now that he thinks he’s found us, he’ll be more predictable.”

  Nodding, she returned her gaze to the open ocean in front of them. “I get that. What do we do now?”

  “Canfield said something at the table I didn’t quite understand. He said you were as capable as I was, then you just shrugged. What did he mean?”

  “He was merely pointing out I was trained by the Mossad, just like you were trained by the CIA.”

  “No, he wasn’t. He was referring to my training as a sniper.”

  She shrugged.

  “There you go again.”

  With a slight smile, she glanced at him. “So was I.”

  “Really.”

  She nodded.

  “How good are you?”

  “Not as good as you, but I am better than most.”

  “You’ve never mentioned it.”

  Another shrug.

  “Nadia?”

  “Most of the targets I would encounter would never suspect a woman sniper. It would allow more freedom to observe them and determine the best way to complete my assignment. For all practical purposes, I would be invisible to them. My training went well, but I was never operational.”

  “Why?”

  “You.”

  He frowned and looked at her as she stared off into the horizon. “Me? How would I have kept you from going operational?”

  With a slight smile, she turned her attention back to him. “You were not an Israeli. With your language skills, you could pose as French, German, or a Canadian. To our enemies, you were more invisible than a woman.”

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  As she stepped closer to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I am glad I never had to see if
I could do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Pull the trigger with another human being in my sights.”

  He did not comment.

  “It is just as well, Michael. We have other concerns to deal with right now.”

  He returned the embrace. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

  They stood silently as the Escape cut through the calm ocean water, remaining in each other’s arms and their own thoughts. Five minutes later, Wolfe said, “What if we are looking at this all wrong?”

  She broke from the embrace. “What do you mean?”

  He continued to study the horizon. “I have never been able to get my head around why we were targeted in Barcelona, or why Reid didn’t believe our ruse in Mexico City.”

  A slight smile came to her lips as she listened.

  Wolfe continued, “After listening to Geoffrey, I was convinced Reid believed we knew about their arrangement with William Little.” He paused. “I don’t think that’s the case at all.”

  “Gerlis was the one who suggested I train as a sniper.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  With a nod, he returned his attention to the horizon. “I wondered why Geoffrey thought it necessary to tell me Reid and Gerlis were in Madagascar.”

  He heard Nadia gasp. She said, “They know you were the one who made the shot.”

  A slight grin crossed his lips. “They aren’t worried we know about the money. They couldn’t care less. We couldn’t prove anything anyway.” He paused, turned and focused on her eyes. “They’re scared to death of us.”

  Chapter 27

  Washington, DC - Four Days Later

  J oseph Kincaid looked up from his computer to see Griggs standing at his office door displaying a broad smile.

  “Please tell me you’ve decided to quit and this is your last day.”

  “No, it’s my sworn duty to make your life miserable.”

  Pressing the palms of his hands against his weary eyes, Joseph said, “Why the smile?”

  “It’s Friday and it’s five o’clock.”

  “Not buying it, Jerry. What’s going on?”

  The smile disappeared as he walked over to the desk and laid a file in front of Joseph. “Gerald Reid is in full freak-out mode. The identity of the man in the security video you gave me is a CIA employee named Gregg Simpson. He’s an ex-army Ranger. He just started with the agency working directly for Reid.” Griggs tilted his head. “Didn’t know deputy directors had their own private operations officers.”

  After opening the file, Joseph skimmed the pages and looked up. “They generally don’t. Does the FBI know about this?”

  Griggs shook his head. “At this point in time, it isn’t on their radar. By the way, where did you get the video?”

  Joseph shrugged as he picked up his desk phone’s handset and punched in a number he knew by heart. As he waited, he looked at his assistant. “Maybe I can help them find it.” When the call was answered, he said, “Paul, we need to talk.” He listened, then replied. “Yes, I know where it is.” He glanced at his wristwatch, “I can be there in an hour. I have a few things to finish here.” More silence. “Good, see you there.”

  The smile returned to Griggs’ face. “Was that the FBI Director?”

  Joseph nodded. “I am sure he’ll be interested in what you found.” He paused. “Nice work on this, Jerry.”

  FBI Director Paul Stumpf carefully read the pages handed to him by National Security Advisor Joseph Kincaid. Now in his early sixties, Stumpf, at one time a dedicated marathon runner, still maintained a lean body. But after having both knees replaced, he was starting to add a few pounds to his five-eleven frame. His perfectly styled dark brown hair displayed the first hints of gray appearing around his temples. His rimless glasses allowed his arctic blue eyes to focus on Joseph, a slight smile on his face.

  “When did you find this out?”

  “It was brought to my attention this afternoon. That’s why I called.”

  Stumpf removed his glasses and pinched his nose. “Gerald Reid has been a serious pain in my ass for years. He continues to run domestic ops without telling us. When we confront him about it, he shrugs and tells us to do a better job.”

  Joseph remained quiet.

  “You know for certain this Michael Wolfe person is dead?”

  “DNA analysis by Israel’s Mossad confirmed it.” Joseph felt a momentary pang of guilt for lying to his friend, but it quickly passed.

  Staring at the file, Stumpf put his glasses back on. “Okay, I’ll have a chat with the DCI. I really don’t want to involve your boss over something like this—yet.”

  “That’s why I brought it to your attention.”

  “Want to be at the meeting?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  The Next Morning

  Gerald Reid fumed. He was far too busy this morning to have a status meeting with the DCI. Meetings with this particular DCI were dreadfully long, unproductive and always on short notice. His anger grew as he walked toward the conference room. An important project would be delayed because of this nonsense.

  As he entered the conference room, he realized this was not a normal status meeting. Director of Central Intelligence Dwight King pointed to a chair across from the men at the table. “Sit down, Reid.”

  Reid did not sit immediately. He stared at the Director and then at the president’s National Security Advisor, Joseph Kincaid. He noted FBI Director Paul Stumpf and Attorney General Noel Taylor were at the table as well. He returned his attention to King. “What is this about, Director?”

  “Shut up and sit down. We’ll ask the questions.”

  Hesitantly, Reid sat and folded his hands on the table. His practiced expression of sheer boredom appeared on his face. He was anything but bored.

  King started the inquisition. “Why do you have operatives working inside the United States?”

  “I beg your pardon, Director?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “Careful, Mr. Reid.” Attorney General Taylor gave him a slight smile. “You are currently on very thin ice, legally speaking. Don’t add lying to federal authorities to the charges.”

  Reid stared at the AG and then at Director King. “I have men all over the world collecting data for analysis. You will have to be more specific.”

  “Why did you have an operative in Southern Missouri searching for a dead man?”

  “If you are referring to our search for Michael Wolfe, he has been declared an enemy combatant and known terrorist. And we know he is alive.”

  Taylor chuckled. “Declared by whom?”

  “My department.”

  Stumpf frowned. “Since when did the CIA take over for the FBI declaring someone an enemy combatant inside the United States?”

  “When the FBI doesn’t do it’s job, Director Stumpf.”

  King slammed the table with his palm. “Reid, you will refrain from pointing a finger at another department when the finger is being pointed at you.”

  Reid’s eyes widened. “Yes, Director.”

  “What is your proof Wolfe is alive, Reid?” The question came from Stumpf.

  “A TSA security camera photograph of him at the Newark Airport, confirmed by facial recognition software.”

  King extracted a piece of paper from a file in front of him and showed it to Reid. “This is the official report from Israel declaring that DNA analysis on the body of a deceased individual in Mexico City was confirmed to be ex-CIA Operative Michael Wolfe. Now you are saying a grainy photograph disproves a DNA test? Is that what you are basing your actions on, Mr. Reid?”

  Realizing the absurdity of his argument, Reid remained quiet.

  “I hope not, because if you are, you are in serious legal jeopardy.”

  Joseph handed a file to Stumpf. The FBI Director opened it and extracted a sheet. After studying it, he looked up at Reid. “Is this the photograph you claim to be Michael
Wolfe?”

  Stumpf handed it to the Deputy Director. Reid studied it, smiled and handed it back. “Yes, facial recognition gave it an eighty-eight percent probability of being Wolfe.”

  After handing the photograph to King, Stumpf returned his attention to Reid. “The photograph is of a man named Marcus Hunter. He’s a mid-level manager for a food manufacturer based in Alabama. FBI confirmed his identity and interviewed him. He was in New Jersey on business that day.” Stumpf stared at Reid for several uncomfortable moments. “Care to comment?”

  Reid’s eyes grew wider as he moistened his lips. “But the facial recog—”

  King interrupted. “Is not foolproof, Mr. Reid. You have violated several internal regulations and exposed this agency to a Congressional investigation. Something we don’t need at the moment.”

  Steeling himself in his conviction, Reid’s expression hardened. “This is a typical Michael Wolfe ploy. He is smart, dangerous and cunning. He’s planning a terrorist attack inside the United States. I can feel it. Are you all willing to take that chance, gentlemen?”

  Shaking his head slowly, DCI King replaced all the papers back in their respective folders. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked at Stumpf and then Taylor. Both men nodded slightly.

  “Mr. Reid, it has come to the attention of our human resource department and this office that you are over-worked and stressed. Your sixteen-hour days have caught up with you. You have twenty-five years with the agency, which allows you to retire with a full pension. I expect your letter of retirement on my desk within the hour.”

  “I don’t want to retire. I have too much to do.”

  “Not anymore. You have two choices: retire, like I suggested, or face an inquiry by the DOJ and FBI. If that inquiry discovers wrongdoing, and I mean any wrongdoing, you will be subject to arrest and forfeiture of your pension.” King’s eyes narrowed. “Is that how you want to play this, Gerald?”