by Sco Thorson
she changed out of her cocktail dress into jeans and a blouse and hid her hair beneath a large beach cap. Then donning sunglasses, strode from the restroom.
As she walked down the corridor, her phone chimed. Probably more instructions from Dave, she frowned. ‘When you have a clear shot, drop them both’ it read. She wondered what it meant.
TJ Meets Dave 2
Wednesday 9:00 p.m.
TJ looked glumly at the lights at Montego Bay as the plane banked to make its final approach. Dave was down there someplace. Her new boss at the CIA had ordered her to find him and learn the source of his information. She intended to use torture, whether or not he was willing to talk.
She reread the email from her feckless boss Bob. She was officially off the project until such time as the CIA figured out how to transfer her back. She knew she would never see her lab again. She wondered how well Dave would take the water boarding.
As the plane neared the airport, she glanced surreptitiously at the bars on her phone. It connected, and moments later she had a message from Dave. The meeting place he described was a strange one, but the directions were clear enough. He even included the GPS coordinates. And he suggested she bring a flashlight and a powerful magnet.
The flashlight was a good idea. She could blind him with it so he wouldn't see the magnet coming.
As she exited Emigration, she was surprised to find an earnest young man holding a sign with her name. She approached him.
“I’m TJ.”
He nodded. “Please follow me.”
He led her outside to a waiting car and motioned for her to get in.
“Where are we going?”
“Not far,” he smiled enigmatically.
She awkwardly maneuvered her carry-on onto the rear seat, then slide in after it. The man got in front next the driver, and the car pulled away from the curb.
“May I see some identification?” the man asked politely.
After a moment’s fumbling, she produced her passport. He checked it against a clipboard, the nodded.
“These are the goods,” he announced, passing back a small case. “Please sign here.”
“What is this?” she asked, releasing the locks on the case.
“Surveillance camera,” the man replied. “The button on the rear activates it then everything it sees in the next 39 hours is bounced off a satellite to Langley.”
“But what do I do with it?”
“I received no instructions,” he shrugged.
Escaping the Trap
Wednesday 11:45 p.m.
The orchestra struck up a Vienna waltz, and much to her surprise, Dave began leading, swinging her gracefully around the room. He wasn't bad and might even be worth dating.
His phone chirped.
"Don't you ever turn that off?"
"These messages tend to be special."
He offered her his arm and led her off the floor to the side of the orchestra. Then he removed the phone from his jacket and read the message. His face remained calm, but she could feel his body tensing.
"You need to do exactly what I say,” he instructed. “Stay with me because I think things are going to get rough."
"What… ," she began, but before she could complete the question he was dragging her across the dance floor towards the far exit.
"Look for a man in a Hawaiian shirt coning through the door. He'll have a gun," he explained.
"A gun, are you crazy?"
He continued, "When we see him we’ll turn and head for the other exit, where three guys in red T-shirts will enter the room. When you see them, duck low and run for the orchestra."
And suddenly she saw the man in a Hawaiian shirt enter the room. He scanned the room briefly, spotted them, and reached for his waistband.
"Turn now," Dave commanded, and turning her around dragged her towards the other exit.
She heard a scream behind them and kicking off her heels ran behind Dave through the crowd. The dancing was sputtering to a stop as everyone turned to look behind them. Dave didn't look back. He was focused on the other exit. Suddenly three men in red T-shirts entered the hall.
"Duck now," Dave ordered.
They ducked and running low headed for the orchestra. There were more screams and dancers began running from the floor. Dave sprinted up the bandstand, knocking music stands, saxophonists, and trombones aside before jumping into the backstage area. She followed in his wake. She heard a gunshot. Looking back between the panicked musicians, she saw the man in the Hawaiian shirt fall.
"Through here," Dave whispered as he pushed open the heavy metal door and led them outside into the darkness.
"What now?"
He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the bushes beside the door. Moments later the door banged open again and two of the redshirted men ran out, each with a pistol at the ready. They glanced around quickly then ran off down the road that led to the main building.
Dave pulled the phone from his pocket and studied the screen carefully.
“Who are they?”
He shook his head, and slipping the phone back into his pocket, led the way quickly through the bushes and around the side of the building. Ahead she heard a raucous party. They crept closer.
“Here,” someone shouted behind them.
“What do we do?”
“Take off your clothes,” he replied calmly.
New Allies
Thursday 12:30 a.m.
Max waved two of his men ahead to the door of the bungalow. This was not a managerial job, but he was in a hurry. Antonio waved from the left side of the door as Jorge picked the lock. The door swung open and the two men slipped inside. A minute later Antonio returned to the doorway and waved. Max walked quickly down the path and into the bungalow.
A heavy-set man lay spread eagle on the floor. Jorge stood over him pointing a gun at his head.
“El?” Antonio asked.
Max knelt beside the man and grabbing him by the hair turned his face up. It wasn't him.
“No es,” Max shook his head.
"What do you want," the man on the floor snarled.
"We are looking for the current occupants of this bungalow. Attractive blonde woman, 5 foot 10, young man, about 6 foot one."
Max twisted the man's hair and demanded, "Are they friends of yours?"
The man grimaced. "They have something of mine."
Max thought for a moment. "Or perhaps they have something that you want. Tell me about it. Maybe I can help."
The man said nothing. Max nodded at Antonio, who removed a silencer from his pocket and carefully threaded it to the muzzle of his gun. Antonio positioned the silencer against the base of the man's head.
Max sighed genially. "Let's not make this any more unpleasant than is absolutely necessary."
A drop of sweat ran down the man's forehead.
"Let's be cool," the man rasped.
Max spread his hands. "Fine, cool it is."
He stood took a step back and settled into a comfortable chair.
"Now tell me everything you know about the people in this room."
The man obliged with alacrity.
"I found them in Grand Cayman. They have technology that decrypts secure email. The guy was a student of the professor that developed it. Now he's using it to get rich. I just wanted a piece of the action."
Max settled back into the chair and pressed his hands together at his mouth. This explained much.
"Does the government have this technology," he asked levelly.
The man awkwardly shook his head. "Like I said, he's using it to get rich, so I don't think the feds know about it."
Max continued. "Would you recognize this technology?"
The man quickly guessed the right answer. "You bet."
What's your name?"
"Mitch. Mitch O'Connell," the man rasped.
Max stood. "Mitch, I'm about to make you a very generous offer."
Mit
ch nodded.
"I'd like you to work for me. I'm sure you would like that to."
Mitch nodded again, then asked, "What's in it for me?"
Max smiled. "A better question, my friend, is what's in it for you if you don't agree."
On the Run
Wednesday night
"Walking into a party in my underwear is not my idea of lying low," Rachel fumed. “We can take those guys. Let’s go back.”
"Relax, we’ll blend right in." He eyed her carefully from head to toe and smiled. "Besides, you look great."
He took his phone and slipped it into her bra, and gave her a quick pat on the bottom.
"Look happy!"
They slipped between the building and the fence, and joined the party. He grabbed a pair of drinks from circulating waiter and handed one to her.
"You're right," he grinned. "We don't fit in. But if you take off a little more, your camouflage would be perfect."
She glared at him. "My services don't include a private peep show."
"Fair enough," he shrugged. "Let's go hang out in the hot tub until the bad guys are gone. The local constabulary should be here soon."
His phone chirped. He snatched it out of her bra.
"Get out and move down the beach," the message began. "If you stay, you'll be spotted while the police take statements."
"Sorry to be a party pooper, but we've got to get out of here."
"But they'll see us when we leave," she protested.
He shook his head. "More dangerous if we stay. Just act like you can't wait to get me in the sack and they won't give us a second look."
He led her through the bacchanalia to the gate. There he paused and gave her a long kiss.
"Now remember," he whispered, "we're leaving because you're incredibly Randy."
He grabbed her hand and ran out into the night. They had only gone 50 yards onto the beach when the surf drowned out the noise of the party.
"Why don't we go back to the bungalow," she asked.
"Someone