Room 1515

by Bill Wetterman

  “Later?” She nodded. “Do you have a favorite?”

  “Daphne, if she’s working.”

  “She’s not. But she’ll be in the Lagoon Room for you.”

  “I’m grateful,” the ambassador said, still holding on to her hand. “My sponsor, your Department of State liaison, Howard Perkins, is he already seated in the lounge area?”

  She pulled her hand away and waved to a demure brunette. “Phyllis, if you would be so kind, show the ambassador and his team to Mr. Perkins’ table.”

  “He was to have arrived with only his translator,” Polaris whispered. “Have Browne watch the bodyguard. You watch the bodyguard as well, at least until Nash arrives.”

  “Okay,” Peacock said, motioning to Browne. She didn’t think it unusual for a bodyguard to accompany an ambassador. But she edged her body around to keep the Perkins’ party in view.

  She’d enjoyed the attention and the opulence of her assignment thus far. She had the benefits of an occasional liaison at her own choosing. But she craved the action and physical combat she’d been trained for.

  “Excuse me.” Browne’s voice turned her back around. “Congressman Snell, party of two.”

  She forced an angelic smile. “Congressman, how good to have you back.”

  He leaned close and whispered. “We’ll need some time, maybe an hour. Then if I’m pleased with the outcome of the conversation, will Phyllis be available in the Lagoon Room?”

  Snell leered, and she watched to see if his face would crack, the old fart. But it didn’t. “I’ll join you for your friend if that would please you.”

  “Immensely, to what do I owe the privilege?”

  “Your companion is handsome.”

  Nash appeared nervous. He sat and waited, bouncing his leg until Snell called him over. Peacock studied him from afar. He was a man in his mid-thirties, muscular, tanned, and obviously in excellent shape. At least she’d enjoy the physical aspect of getting close to this target.

  “The bug is in place and active. Escort them to their table in the lounge.”

  So much for appreciating the view, Polaris had spoken. She waved to Phyllis who had returned from seating Zelinoff’s party. “Take over here. It’s three o’clock and time for my rounds.”

  #

  At four-thirty, Peacock placed her card in the Lagoon Room door and opened it. She entered followed by Nash and Congressman Snell. Phyllis closed the door and made sure the electronic back-up lock was secure. The Lagoon Room couldn’t be seen from the main complex. One had to pass a sign that read. Do not enter. Hotel personnel only beyond this point.

  “Oh, my God,” Nash said.

  He appeared totally taken off-guard. His tanned face would have gone ghost-white if it could, she thought.

  “I don’t see a ring,” Peacock said. “You don’t have to join us if you’d rather not. I will say you may look and touch with permission, but nothing else here in the Lagoon.”

  He appeared at a loss as to what to do. Congressman Snell and Phyllis were already nude and splashing at poolside.

  Peacock extended her hands toward Nash. “Let me help.”

  Nash waved her off and disrobed.

  Hum, this will be exciting.

  She unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. She turned around. “Could you unfasten me?”

  His hands were warm as he removed her bra. This was the part she enjoyed the most, more than the act, more than sweet words. She slipped out of her skirt and panties and stretched her arms skyward. Nash’s face reddened and his body responded in kind. Yes, she was irresistible. Her natural beauty made her an excellent value to Ursa and to Hercules.

  Chapter 5

  Day 475

  “Lovey, wake up. It’s time to get ready for work.”

  Peacock squeezed her eyelids tight and grimaced. “Go away you ogre.”

  Nash rubbed her back. She opened one eye. He was falling in love. She was bored with him. A sweet guy, a tiger under the sheets, but she hoped Hercules would end the assignment sooner than later. She rolled out of bed, showered, and pulled out a t-shirt and jeans. They’d get her to work where she could put on a proper outfit.

  “Who’s Pendleton?” she asked as he gave her a hug.

  “You are a strange creature,” Nash said. “No, see you later. No, I love you, honey.”

  “Well, I’m curious. You talk to him or about him every half hour it seems.”

  “He heads several organizations. He’s an important man.” Nash turned and faced her squarely. “If we become what I think we’re becoming, he’ll be an important part of my career. The Stromiehre deal could bring me over a hundred thousand in commissions, plus more business.”

  “Doesn’t it bother you that foreigners are making U.S. weaponry?”

  “We have a global economy. Now kiss me you sexpot and give me a date when you’ll quit that job. I want you all to myself.”

  She did the obligatory passionate lip-lock and hurried out his apartment door. “Love you. See you tomorrow night.”

  Peacock had a block and a half to walk to get to the side entrance of the Emerald. She hadn’t gone fifty yards when her training senses told her to be on the alert. A black van sat back off the street in an alleyway. She’d never seen the van there before, and her instincts said move fast. She quickened her steps and caught a glimpse of someone approaching off to her left side. Before she could turn, an assailant leaped at her knocking her off her feet and into another alleyway.

  Without thinking, she tucked her right shoulder down as she fell and flung her attacker farther into the alley near a loading dock. Before she could regain her balance, several goons grabbed her. She thrust her left hand palm out smashing the tip of the nose of the first to arrive, pushing the upper cartilage and nasal bone straight back into his brain.

  As he fell over dead, he knocked his partner off balance. Peacock wheeled around and swung a karate chop with her left hand against the second man’s Adam’s apple, leaving him on his knees and gasping for air.

  He’ll die.

  Her first antagonist had righted himself. He leaped straight up. She couldn’t see where he went. Two other men faced off with her. Circling with her hands up and positioned to attack, she feinted toward the man on her right, rolled backward, and kicked the man on her left against what she thought was a bare wall. He stayed where he hit, impaled on a hook attached to the metal edge of the loading dock.

  The other man came at her and they exchanged blows. He landed a punch against her ribs, shooting breath-stopping pain into her lungs. She had enough strength to trip him, landing a fatal blow to the side of his neck, breaking it as he fell.

  Before she could straighten up her first attacker dropped on her, seemingly out of the sky. He trapped her against the dead body beneath her. With both his hands on her neck, she fought to breathe. She feigned unconsciousness by going limp. Then a shot rang out. The man choking her screamed. Blood streamed down his arm and over her face.

  Peacock rolled her assailant off her. Polaris yelled, “Don’t kill him.”

  “What?”

  “Go directly to the hotel. A doctor and her assistant are waiting for you.”

  She pulled herself to her feet. A count of four dead impressed even her. The injured attacker didn’t count. She hadn’t inflicted the wound. Still she felt good. This kind of action was what she’d been looking for.

  “Glad you showed up, Polaris.”

  “I didn’t. I’m at headquarters.”

  She looked around to see four Herculeans running toward the scene. She walked away as the bodies were being removed. The wounded man had been dragged to a waiting car and stuffed in the back seat. There would be no evidence two minutes from now that anything had happened.

  “You’re going to question him?”

  “He’ll be questioned, then killed.”

  “I killed four. I bet that’s a record.”

  “No, Peacock, you’re not the brightest star in the sky.”

 
; “Who is then?”

  “Before I came in from the field my name was Sirius.”

  Peacock reflected a moment. Polaris was the star to be guided by. Sirius was the brightest. They were one and the same. “I am honored to be in your service.”

  “Of course you are.”

  Even aching, waves of pride caused her to strut. “What about Nash?”

  “Once he mentioned Pendleton, he sealed his fate. He’s being questioned.”

  “He’s only greedy. He’s not a terrorist or anything.”

  Polaris switched to listening mode.

  #

  Doctor Berk stood no taller than Peacock’s breasts and her stethoscope felt like ice. Still this small wrinkle-faced woman commanded respect. “Breathe in as deeply as you can.”

  “It hurts when I do that.”

  “I know.”

  The adrenalin rush of an hour ago lingered. Peacock had never actually killed before. With human trainees, she had to stop her strikes inches from their targets, and dummies didn’t die.

  “Proud of yourself?” To Peacock’s amazement, Ursa ambled through the door of her suite. “You should be. You’re proving yourself more than capable for the tasks I assign.”

  “Be a gentleman,” Doctor Berk huffed. “The girl’s indisposed.”

  “She means I’m naked.” Peacock waved a hello at Ursa. “Don’t be a prude, Berk. In my business, nudity isn’t given a second thought.”

  “How is she, Madeline?”

  Doctor Berk groaned. “Her ribs are bruised, not broken. You and Doctor Kolb’s precious implant isn’t fazed. Peacock’s mental state is abnormally calm given what she’s been through. I’m sure you’re proud of yourself.”

  Peacock cringed at the mention of Doctor Kolb’s name. Kolb had installed the communications device with the bedside manner of a Nazi medical experimenter.

  She noticed the professional respect Ursa gave Doctor Berk as Berk left.

  “Go get dressed so we can talk,” Ursa said.

  She didn’t mind being naked and talking. Clothes were a social convenience and a moral necessity. She put on a lavender robe and flopped down on her bed. The moment she relaxed flashes of light and the screaming voices of the dying leaped out from her repressed memory. The sound of crushing metal overwhelmed her senses. She wrapped her arms tight about herself, not wanting to give away her vulnerability.

  “I could use a drink, how about you?” Ursa asked, breaking the horror of her vision.

  “Love one,” she answered.

  The room was chilly and she pulled her robe even tighter. “I must have turned the heater off.”

  Ursa walked over to the unit and turned it on. Alone in the room with her boss, she pushed her nightmares back into the recesses of her mind.

  “I haven’t seen you since my first birthday.”

  “One hundred and nine days ago,” Ursa said. “Polaris is turned off for this conversation. This is between you and me.”

  She reached behind her ear, then pulled her hand back.

  “There are some things you need to know.” He poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels. “I like mine straight. You?”

  “Is this going to be alarming?” She watched his face. There was both concern and sadness in his eyes. “I’m not a drinker, per se, but I can hold my own.”

  He poured her one equally strong. “We’ve never discussed America’s enemies at any length, except for the obvious ones.”

  “No, but I’m not interested in who or why, only my role in the solution.” She took a sip, then another. “What do men see in these drinks? Wine is far more delicate.”

  “Sometimes our friends are our enemies.” He downed his glass in one gulp and cleared his throat. “As to whiskey, some topics are easier to discuss after a belt of throat burners or two.”

  “Okay.” She downed hers and coughed. “God, this is awful.”

  “The name, Pendleton, mean anything to you?”

  “You know it does. Nash talked to an Arthur Pendleton quite often.” She rotated her arm. The pain in her ribs was decreasing. “Poor Nash, I totally fooled him into thinking I was in love with him. Don’t kill him. He’s harmless.”

  “No one’s harmless.”

  “He is.” She paused a moment. “Apparently, Pendleton is very interested in Stromiehre being the successful bidder on U.S. military electronic systems. He is financing Nash’s lobbyist activities. I think Nash is simply naïve.”

  “Would it interest you to know that the people who attacked you were associated with Pendleton?”

  “Shit, pour me another drink.”

  “In a moment,” Ursa pulled his chair next to the bottle and within reach of her hand. “Pendleton and his boss, Eric Throgmorton, run the W.F.C., the World Financial Corporation. They control most of the European Commonwealth’s money, actually most of the world’s money. Their equivalent to our Secret Service wants to get their hands on, and interrogate a member of Hercules. We know they’re attempting to place someone deep inside our organization, if they haven’t already.”

  “How did they know I’m a Herculean?”

  “We don’t know that they did. But it’s obvious by the attack they suspected.” Ursa reached for the bottle. “Now let’s have a final drink.”

  “If my cover is blown, will you relocate me?”

  Ursa let out a hearty warm laugh. “No, and for several reasons: First, no one returned from their mission. We checked their cell phones. No communication regarding you, or your name, was sent once the attack started.”

  He downed his second shot. “Ah, that’s good. Second, their lobbyist has disappeared. They’ll have to replace him. When they do, it will be with someone we know is connected.”

  “Don’t you think they know my name?”

  “I suspect they don’t. They know where Nash picked you up. So they know Hercules is embedded at the Emerald.” He stretched back and put his hands behind his head. “They know we foiled their plan, since their agents never returned. They’ll probe the Emerald’s Room 1515, and we’ll be waiting for them.”

  He stood up, reached inside his suit pocket, and handed her an envelope. “You deserve a vacation. You’ll travel by private jet to Athens.”

  “Greece?”

  “Of course, two weeks at the new Royal Villa Grand Olympian Resort will help you heal.” He grinned, his gray hair a little long around the ears. “You’ll have your own bodyguards, butler, masseuse, chef, pianist, a private heated pool and beach all to yourself and invited guests. By the way, Arthur Pendleton will be a guest at the Royal Villa as well. His suite will be right next to yours.”

  “Why don’t you assassinate Pendleton and be done with it?”

  Ursa sighed. “He’s too important to kill. Do you want to bankrupt the world? The instant he dies the World’s economy turns to sand.”

  #

  Ursa strolled out of the Emerald Hotel. He pulled his coat collar up and raced out from under the awning to his waiting limo. A spring downpour blasted D.C. with winds and heavy rain. He slid into the back seat to find Doctor Beatrice Kolb seated beside him.

  “Big Brother sent me. I wouldn’t bother you otherwise.”

  “You enticed him, Bea. He can’t say no to you.” Ursa squeezed her knee. “What do you want?”

  “The Neuron-probe’s completed its Beta tests. I want to try it on Peacock.”

  “How many idiots did you create in the process, ten, more?”

  “Tests are not without casualties. The last twelve trials were perfect.”

  Ursa folded his arms across his chest. “No one in my unit will be an experimental monkey, least of all Peacock.”

  “But Neuron-probe’s predecessor is working inside her now.”

  “As a transmitter and emotional monitor, yes, you’re talking complete mind control with Neuron what’s its name. I’m not comfortable with that.”

  Kolb turned toward him. His senses warned him to be on guard.

  “The name is Neuron-pr
obe, Ursa. Peacock will become the ultimate weapon. The beauty is it works so subtly she won’t know she’s under our control.”

  “Keep testing, Bea,” Ursa said, as the limousine pulled up to the White House gate. “I don’t believe you have clearance here. So please leave. My driver will give you my umbrella. I’ll call you.”

  Chapter 6

  British Prime Minister Grace Claymore tapped her foot hard against the leg of her desk. Eric Throgmorton should be calling her, not the other way around.

  “Throgmorton,” he answered.

  She recognized his gravelly voice, though her aide held her phone.

  “Please hold for Madam Prime Minister.”

  Claymore reached up and grabbed the phone from her aide as he left. She rued her short stature and extra weight. “Are you watching Monroe on the B.B.C.?”

  “No, should I be?”

  “I should think so,” Claymore said. “We have to take Monroe seriously. Europe stands to lose billions. He’s an isolationist, and the European Union is vulnerable.”

  “He doesn’t have a prayer for re-election.”

  “Don’t scoff at this. My staff advisers think he’ll win. Turn on the telly and listen to his jabber for yourself.”

  “If you feel it’s pertinent, Madam,” Throgmorton said matter-of-factly. “The W.F.C. will study the polls and let you know what we think.”

  Was he dismissing her? The nerve of that balding old bulldog. “Monroe made his opening reelection campaign speech last week. Listen to a portion of it.”

  Claymore picked up a copy provided by her staff. She cradled the phone between her shoulder and chin, held the paper open with both hands, and read Monroe’s statement. “America must rebuild its infrastructure or fall to the status of a third-world country. We can’t rebuild unless we bring our military home from the four corners of the globe and stop paying interest on our national debt immediately.”

  She tossed the speech copy back onto her desk. “Vice President Edmunds should be president. He’s an idiot, but he is our idiot. At least he doesn’t advocate throwing the balance of world military and financial power awry.”

  “I’m aware of Monroe’s platform.”