Sympathy For the Devil

by Terrence McCauley

  “No you can’t, so don’t even try.” He took a long pull from his glass and signaled the bartender for another round. “And another wine for the lady. She’s earned it.”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll have what he’s having. Exactly the same way.”

  Hicks looked at her. “You sure? You said it smelled like an ashtray.”

  “It does, but I really hate wine. I’m a tequila girl, actually. Your file said you preferred elegant blondes and, since I don’t like cocktails either, so white wine was the best I could come up with.”

  Hicks smiled. “Is that really in my profile? That I like elegant blondes?”

  “It is, along with a lot of other things. But your real name has been redacted. It’s the only file I’ve ever seen where an Office Head’s entire background was missing. All it lists is your current identity and your safe identity as Warren.”

  “Adds to the mystery,” he said. “You haven’t told me your real name, either.”

  She took the glass of scotch the bartender placed on the napkin in front of her. “Do we really need names at this point? It’d kill the mystery, right?”

  Hicks clinked glasses with her. “Touché, madam. Speaking of mysteries, are you really a blonde.”

  She drank the scotch and didn’t even flinch at the taste. Maybe she really was a tequila girl after all. “That’s smoother than I thought it would be.”

  Hicks drank too. “The booze or my line?”

  “Both,” she smiled. “And just like with the Laphroig, there’s only one way to find out. By sampling it for yourself.”

  HICKS FOUND out for himself after the third round of drinks.

  The University had allowed her to book a room in the Waldorf for the rest of the week, so the mystery was solved after a short elevator ride to her room on the eleventh floor.

  She was different than Hicks had expected her to be, even after she’d lowered her guard. Her body was lean and toned, yet soft in all the right places. Their lovemaking was more sexual than sensual and kissing hadn’t entered much into the equation. She squeezed his neck when she climaxed, but no nails across the back or moans of ecstasy.

  When he climbed off her, he thought she’d be distant and avoid being close. She surprised him by laying her head on his chest.

  “Well, I would’ve lost that bet,” he admitted.

  “What? That I’m not the stuck-up bitch you thought I was?”

  “No. That you really are a natural blonde after all.”

  She ran her hand over his chest. “That’s one mystery solved.” He felt her tense. “You know none of this was part of the assignment. This was about you and me, not work.”

  Hicks had run honey trap operations for a good portion of his life and knew this wasn’t one of them. “I know that, but I thank you for telling me anyway.”

  “Yes, of course you would.” She settled back down. “Stupid me.”

  Hicks held her closer. “You’re married, aren’t you?”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “No, just a feeling I got.”

  “I suppose you have to live off your feelings, don’t you? Your impressions?”

  “I do. They’re usually right for the most part, the way my impression of you was right about you working for the University.”

  “And the way your impression of Colin was wrong?”

  He wanted a cigar or a cigarette, but could tell she didn’t smoke. “It’s not the same thing. He died because of outside circumstances that were beyond my control. With you, everything was right there. I was just smart enough to see it.”

  “That’s why I know you would’ve seen it with Colin if there’d been anything to see. Deep down, you have to know that.”

  Now he really wanted a cigarette. “It doesn’t help much. He’s still dead.”

  “And you’re alive and doing something about it. That’s what’s important. Your work is important and you’re very good at what you do. Your reputation in the University is very impressive, though a bit…”

  “A bit what?”

  “Troubling, I guess. Your file is full of professional accomplishments, all of them impressive, but nothing personal. Nothing about your real name or where you’re from or what you did before the University. The only hobby they have listed for you is that you like blondes and drink scotch.”

  Hicks smiled. “There are worse pursuits. Some might call them virtues.”

  “But other members have many hobbies listed. Painting or art or travel. Things like that. Nothing like that is listed for you, and I have a feeling I know why.” She picked her head off his chest and looked at him. “You don’t have anything else besides this, do you? All of you have is this job, this life. And you don’t want anything else.”

  Hicks liked the way she looked now. Not as hard as she had looked downstairs, but her eyes were still just as cold. He’d never been big on self analysis, mostly because the subject bored him. And a one night stand wouldn’t change that. “I can see why they sent you to make a field analysis of me. Says a lot about your skill set, too.”

  “I’m obviously not much of a field agent.” She ran her hand down his chest to beneath the sheet. “But I’ve got my talents.”

  “Is that so?” He felt himself begin to harden again. “Prove it.”

  And that’s exactly what she did.

  HICKS LEFT her early the next morning and stopped by the Office to change clothes and gear up. He knew he’d be spending a lot of time in the car, so he wouldn’t need the parka. Instead, he wore a lighter winter coat complete with Kevlar lining. He wasn’t expecting things to get hot, but he took extra speed loaders for the Ruger and six extra clips for the Glock backup.

  According to the tracker in Kamal’s phone, he had been picked up by Omar’s men in Astoria and driven out to the Midwood section of Brooklyn.

  Judging by the audio Hicks could hear from the phone, the drive to Brooklyn was a quiet one. Hicks wasn’t surprised. Over the past several months of surveillance, he knew Omar had run a very tight ship. He never told any one person more than they needed to know; either at work or in his personal life. Omar was a confirmed bachelor with few habits and none of them bad. He read the Koran, prayed every day at exactly the same time, and went to bed before nine.

  Most likely, he’d sent two of his stooges to go pick up Kamal rather than risk the exposure of going himself. They probably weren’t like the rookies he’d sent to the park. Omar wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. These boys probably weren’t hired guns, but Hicks bet they’d be sharp enough to spot a tail. Omar had always been careful and he’d be even more careful now.

  Hicks knew he didn’t have to drive out to Brooklyn. He could’ve easily monitored everything via OMNI from Twenty-third Street. Kamal could handle himself if things got dicey and didn’t need backup, even if he was unarmed.

  But Hicks drove out there anyway because nothing about this operation felt like a regular op. It wasn’t just because of Colin’s death. He’d lost men in the field before and probably would again. Death was part of the job.

  It was because of something the woman had said to him last night in bed. ‘If there’d been something to see, you would’ve seen it.’ He knew she was right, but it helped to hear it from someone else.

  There was desperation to Omar’s actions that felt like something was about to happen and happen soon. Something big and permanent. Omar had led a quiet and deliberate life up until this point. If he was getting worked up now, it must be for a very good reason.

  Hicks had just gotten to the Brooklyn Bridge when his dashboard monitor showed that Kamal’s cellphone had stopped moving. Judging by the audio feed he caught via the phone, the men had gotten out of the car and were walking inside. He selected the GPS on the touch screen of his dashboard and started in that direction.

  The audio quickly became muddled as several men began speaking in Arabic at once. Hicks was hardly fluent in Arabic, but he’d picked up enough of the language to know it was just th
e customary exchanges of blessings and platitudes.

  Hicks was encouraged by the sound of a familiar voice in the mix. Omar’s. If he was there, then they’d learn more about his operation and fast.

  The other voices dissolved into mumbles as Hicks heard Omar beckon Kamal to come with him. That was followed by the creak of a door and the sound of metal chair legs scraping on hardwood. A private conversation between Omar and his patron’s emissary.

  Good.

  Hicks let another car cut in front of him as he concentrated on hearing what was going on in that room. If he’d been in the command center, he could’ve pulled up the video from Kamal’s camera phone, but he knew the system was already doing that. He’d check it later. For now, he concentrated on hearing what was going on there while not crashing his car.

  He heard Omar begin speaking in Somali, but Kamal tactfully shut him down.

  “My apologies, my brother.” The Nigerian accent on his English was perfect. “I am from Nigeria and am not familiar with your language. We can speak in English or even French if you prefer.”

  Omar chose French. “Then let us speak in the language of the somewhat lesser white devil.”

  Kamal laughed and responded in kind. “A wise choice, my brother. Now, our wise uncle who shall go unnamed has asked me to come visit you to help you with some difficulty you are having.”

  “You are wise to avoid mentioning him by name, but before we speak of him, your wounds trouble me. The cuts and swelling on your face.”

  Hicks gripped the wheel tighter. He knew he shouldn’t have hit him yesterday in the parking lot, but he’d needed to make a point. He only hoped Kamal’s bruises didn’t throw him off their game plan. Stick to the script, you son of a bitch. Stick to the script.

  “These are the marks of the martyr I wear proudly, for they are ccourtesy of the Nigerian Special Police,” Kamal said. “I don’t think of them as wounds. I think of them as honors won in our ongoing campaign against the infidels. The men who gave them to me are half a world away and have nothing to do with our purpose for meeting here today.”

  Hicks had to admit he was impressed with Kamal’s ease with bullshit, but Omar didn’t sound totally convinced. “You should be in hospital, receiving care.”

  “Perhaps, but our uncle’s concern about the well-being of your noble cause exceeds any concerns about my condition. Your request drew his attention, my brother, and his interest.”

  “And, I hope, his support?”

  “His support depends entirely upon what you have to show me today.” Hicks heard something, maybe the bag of money he’d given Kamal, slide across the floorboards. “But he does hope you will accept this gift as a small token of his praise of your noble efforts.”

  Hicks clapped his hand against the wheel. That’s it. Hook him and reel him in.

  Omar was quiet for a moment as Hicks supposed he looked in the bag. “It appears to be most generous and very humbling,” Omar said, though Hicks heard disappointment in his voice.

  Kamal must’ve heard it too because he said, “His support will be far more generous once we learn more about what you propose to do.”

  “Our uncle’s concern is both appreciated and justified. As you will soon see, his support will be vital to the success of our cause.”

  “Although I don’t doubt the sincerity of your words,” Kamal said, “our uncle has heard many such claims about many ideas. He remains dedicated to supporting Allah’s work against the infidels, but he must also be cautious.”

  Hicks swerved as he got cut off by a moving truck as he tried to get off the highway. Good for you, kid. Keep pushing him. Don’t kiss his ass. You’ve got the money he needs.

  “You will see evidence of this and more this very day, my brother. And I am sure you will agree that our efforts will bring great glory to our uncle and to Allah himself, all for very little expense. Our plans are grand in scope but humble in their execution. But I’m afraid that we must take certain precautions.”

  “What kind of precautions?” Kamal asked.

  “My people did not ask to search you when you got in their car as a courtesy to you and our uncle. But I’m afraid now I must insist. I must also insist that you not only leave your phone here but you dismantle it as well.”

  Hicks prayed: Don’t let them smash that fucking phone. Don’t…

  “I will remove the battery and leave it here as you ask,” Kamal said, “but as it is my only contact with our uncle, I suggest that you instruct your people to not destroy it.”

  Omar seemed to agree. “Then I will make sure my men leave it alone, but it must remain here.”

  Hicks remembered to breathe. Now that he had them isolated, he could program OMNI to track their thermal signatures wherever they went.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t near his computer and the traffic was moving too fast for him to program OMNI himself. He could’ve eyeballed them as they left the building, but he was still eight miles away and Kamal needed protection now.

  Hicks activated the car’s speakerphone and said, “Communications Department.”

  OMNI recognized the command and dialed the pre-programmed number over the secure private network.

  A bland male voice came through the Buick’s speakers. “How may I direct your call?”

  Hicks used the standard Urgent All-Clear (UAC) code. “This is Professor Warren and I need to speak to a supervisor, A.S.A.P.”

  “I happen to be a supervisor, Professor. What is your emergency?”

  “I need a thermal tracking protocol established on an Asset. I’m in transit and can’t do it by myself.”

  Hicks heard the click of the supervisor’s keyboard. He knew he was pulling up Hicks’ surveillance profile so he could see what Hicks was seeing. An icon appeared on the lower right hand corner of his dashboard screen, showing him the Communications Department had logged into his system. By then, Omar and Kamal had gotten up and headed for the door. The screen switched to thermal.

  “Are these the two signatures you want to track, sir?”

  “I need them tracked and his phone to stay recording as well. The phone doesn’t have to be a live feed if bandwidth is a problem. Thermal tracking of the subjects is the priority.”

  He heard the man’s fingers clicking across a keyboard. “One moment.”

  A space between two cars opened up on Hicks’ left side. It wasn’t much, but just enough and he floored it, shooting the gap and getting around the ass-dragging son of a bitch in the Prius in front of him. He was only halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge and needed to make up time if he was going to be of any use to Kamal. Omar and his men might be taking Kamal upstairs or on a three hour drive some place. OMNI would track where they went, but couldn’t do much remotely if shit went sideways.

  A bus drifted from the left lane into the center lane without signaling. Horns blared and tires screeched. Hicks floored it and shot past the whole mess, hoping to gain precious seconds to Midwood.

  The supervisor asked, “Are you okay, sir?”

  “Worry about securing that tracking protocol, ace. I’m fine.”

  More keys clicking and then, “Protocol is up and good. Passive surveillance on the cell phone is continuing. Are you watching the feed live?”

  “In between avoiding getting run off the road by a fucking bus, yeah.”

  “Very well. OMNI will also send you an alert if the targets separate. We’ve got a heavy demand on the feed today, so we may not be able to track two of them live at the same time.”

  Hicks didn’t like it, but saw no point in arguing. He could remember a time when they had three satellites parked over the US alone. Now they only had four spread out throughout the globe. Luckily, one was all his.

  “Identify the larger of the two men. He’s my Asset. Make sure the satellite tracks him as a priority. We can’t lose him.”

  “Understood, Professor. Will you require Varsity assistance with your research?”

  The last thing he wanted was those gu
ng-ho assholes kicking in doors and killing off leads. “Not at this time, but I’ll let you know if I do. Thanks for the assist.”

  Hicks killed the connection and went back to passively watching the drama play out on his dashboard screen while he kept an eye on the traffic.

  He tapped the screen and changed it to the standard GPS view. OMNI tracked Kamal and Omar as they left Midwood—just the two of them in the car according to the satellite. That fit with Omar’s cautious nature. The system tracked them as they drove to a building near the Barclays Center in Brooklyn. Hicks followed at a distance.

  He tapped the building they’d entered, which automatically called out an information bubble that gave him details of the structure. Who owned it and when it was built. It’s general purpose. It was a former warehouse that had been converted into a modern self-storage facility a few years before.

  Omar obviously had something to show him. Something that had to be kept away from the place where they’d just met. Something that needed to be protected under lock and key.

  Hicks tapped the screen and changed the satellite settings to read radiological signs from the building, but OMNI wasn’t picking up elevated radiation levels. That didn’t mean it couldn’t be in a lead container. It just meant that if it was radiological, it was well protected.

  Without Kamal having his cellphone, Hicks couldn’t hear what was going on, but he could still track them from above. He switched the screen from radiation detection to heat signature and over-laid that image with an X-ray of the building’s structure. The floors appeared to be solid concrete, so the satellite wouldn’t be able to give him a definitive lock on their position once they were inside. It was a minor setback. He would just have to wait until he debriefed Kamal to learn what he’d seen.

  So close, but yet so far should be the motto for intelligence work.

  Kamal and Omar had been in the facility for twenty minutes by the time Hicks was able to find a parking spot around the corner from the storage facility. There’d been no sign of them since they’d gone inside and he was beginning to get worried. He tried to access the facility’s security systems, but the system—if they had one—wasn’t hooked up to the Internet. The place also didn’t have Wi-Fi because he couldn’t find a trace of a signal. The facility billed itself as state of the art protection for its customers’ valuable goods. The place hadn’t been state-of-the-art since Reagan had been president.