by Owen Parr
Once inside their suite, the ladies opened the small balcony in each room and successfully, but covertly, wrapped small strobe lights on the railings as if on cue. The redhead who named herself Party One entered a series of digits into a beeper and hit ‘send’ as the blonde, Party Two, kept Ramirez busy in bed.
****
Forty miles northeast of the Hotel Waldorf Madeleine, Alex or Alpha One waited on a small airfield for the operation to begin. ‘Operation Party Time’ was about to commence.
“Who is on the ground, Condor?” Alex asked.
“Alpha One, I’ve got the best team for the job. Six well-trained female operatives. Any one of them could kick your ass several times, my boy,” replied Condor, as he read a digital display.
“Okay, guys, we are a go. I repeat, we are a go. Alpha One, Alpha Two and Alpha Three, board your Blackhawk. I am with Alpha Four and Alpha Five. Check coms,” said Condor.
“Condor, are you partaking in this operation?”
“Try and kick me out, Alpha One.”
“No, sir. Welcome aboard.”
“Powers and Alvarez, you guys ready?” Alex asked.
“Back in the game, boss. Thanks for the invite,” Powers or Alpha Two replied.
“Hear you loud and clear,” Alex said.
“We’ll be flying low. On arrival we’re going to rappel down onto the ceiling. All balconies have been marked with a strobe light. Alpha One, your target has a green strobe light. Repeat. Green strobe light. Confirm,” said Condor.
“This is Alpha One. My target has a green strobe light. Confirmed,” he said.
“There are six men and six women on the penthouse floor. The women are our operatives divided over four rooms. The men are our targets. Four in four rooms and two on guard on the penthouse floor. Repeat. The women are our operatives. The men are the targets,” said Condor. “Once we are on the ceiling, the Blackhawks will vacate the area. Our extraction point is through the lobby. We have four black vans arriving within seconds of our rappelling. They will be waiting. Alpha One you and Alpha Two will extract your target aboard the van marked with a large white sign that reads Patisserie Frances on the side. Gordo is on board. No other van has any markings. Confirm Alpha One,” said Condor.
“Confirming. Extraction point for Alpha One. Target is black van with a large white sign reading Patisserie Frances on the side. The van is parked by the hotel lobby entrance,” he said.
The Blackhawks reached the roof of the Hotel Waldorf Madeleine and hovered as Condor and the Alphas began their rappelling and scaling down to the designated balconies. Party One through Party Six received beeps on their digital beepers that signaled the start of the operation.
The Condor and the Alphas were dressed totally in black and wearing black ski masks over their faces. Each entered the rooms via the balconies.
Operatives Party Five and Party Six, who were each singly matched with a bodyguard, easily subdued their targets with the help of the Condor and Alphas.
The six foot four bodyguard who had been rewarded with operatives Party Three and Party Four was standing in his room when two of the Condors entered through the balcony. His fate was sealed as he reached for his Makarov pistol. Condor fired a suppressed Glock 28 .45 caliber through his head that instantly dropped him dead on the floor.
A commotion was heard throughout the penthouse floor as the operatives were subduing the targets and bags were being put on the bodyguards in the two rooms.
Ramirez was caught off guard when Alpha One and Alpha Two entered through the balcony with their Glocks in hand. Alex watched, as operative Party One put a chokehold on Ramirez with his back was to her. Both guards who had been outside rushed the room with their Makarovs at the ready.
“Look out,” Alex shouted. One of the bodyguards was able to get off a shot and strike Alpha Two in the chest. Alex shot back at both guards. The bodyguards, seeing they were outnumbered, fled the room.
“Move, move, we need to get out now,” he said. The ladies were putting on sweatpants and tops. John Powers was on the floor and wasn’t moving. ‘Oh shit what did I do?’ Alex thought. “Powers, are you all right?” He asked, addressing Alpha Two.
Moving his head up, Powers said, “Shit, it hurts, but I’ll be fine. Thank you, vest.”
The operatives were by the vans downstairs. They had heard the fire from the Makarovs and were waiting with anticipation. Gordo had opened the side door to his van and was outside as the guards rushed down the stairs and began a shooting spree aimed at the vans hoping to create an escape route. Operatives from the vans shot back and dropped both guards in the lobby, but not before one of them had struck Gordo on the neck with a single shot. They carried Gordo into one of the other vans.
Everyone converged at the lobby. The lady operatives, none of whom was hurt, walked away in pairs and in different directions. Condor and the other operatives, along with two guards that had been subdued, were put in a van. Alex boarded his van with Ramirez and Powers. As they pulled out a fifth van drove up to the entrance. Operatives entered the hotel to remove the three bodies left behind.
“You okay, Alpha Two?” Alex asked, as the van pulled away from the scene.
“I’m in pain, but I’ll survive,” Powers replied.
Turning to face his prized capture, Alex asked, “So, Mr. Ramirez, what do you say we have a little conversation?” He proposed, wanting to pull off his black ski mask, but resisting the urge.
The chain of events startled Ramirez, wearing nothing but his underwear and a bag over his head. “Who the hell are you, and what is it you want?” Ramirez asked.
“Who I am is immaterial. What I want is really important,” he said.
“Well, I’m an American citizen, and I have rights,” said Ramirez.
“Are you really? And, here I thought you were Cubano. How stupid of me. Look, let’s cut to the chase. We already know of the connection between MonteCarlo and the Cuban government. Your fricking IPO is not going to happen, my friend. What I need to know is the following. Are the Castro brothers behind the killings of the Cuban Council members, both in the U.S. and in Cuba?” He asked.
Ramirez had no response. He was shivering from the cold inside the van. He motioned to the driver to turn down the air conditioning to a cooler temperature and turn up the fan.
“Ramirez, simple question. You are already going to jail for a long time, amigo. Are the Castro brothers involved in the assassinations of the past two days?” He asked again, placing his suppressed Glock in Ramirez’s ear.
Ramirez jumped at the touch of the gun on his ear. “What? Are you going to shoot me, asshole?” Ramirez said.
“Frankly, I would love to,” he said. “However, we need you to testify against the Castros, my friend.”
“I have nothing to testify against the Castros for,” Ramirez said.
“Oh? Of course, you do. The drug running, the murders, the money laundering, the scheme to defraud with the IPO, and on and on,” he said, banging the side of the van with his Glock and that even scared the operatives in the van.
“The hell with you,” said Ramirez, and he jumped as he was startled by the bang from the Glock, almost hitting his head on the top of the van. “Look, you can do whatever you want to me. In the end, I know nothing about the Castros being involved with anything that you are talking about.”
“So, who is behind all of this?” Alex asked again. “Look, here is the deal. You either go back to the U.S. with us to face Federal charges, or, we drop you off at one of our rendition partners for further questioning. We are already in Europe and within minutes of some of these partners. And there you are, looking so cute in blue underwear,” he screamed into Ramirez’s ear.
“The Generals. It was the Generals,” Ramirez jumped and said, sighing.
“What generals?” Alex asked.
“Generals Garces and Naviles, heads of the Western and Eastern Armies in Cuba,” Ramirez said.
“They are behind these murders?” Alex
asked.
“I don’t know about the murders. They are behind the IPO, the drugs, etc. I don’t know anything else,” Ramirez said.
“Do they report to the Castros?” He asked.
“Look, whoever the fuck you are, this happened once before. Generals were responsible then. They are responsible now. The Castros had nothing to do with it, as far as I know,” Ramirez said.
Alex took a bottle of water and poured it on Ramirez’s head.
“What the hell is that?” He said, shivering from the cold water.
“One more time,” he screamed. “Who is behind the murders?”
“Garces and Naviles,” Ramirez shouted back.
Alex looked around the van and only now noticed that Gordo was not there. “Where is Gordo?” He asked of no one specifically.
“He is in another van. He was shot as the guards were running out of the hotel,” said one of the agents in the van.
Clicking on the COM system, Alex asked, “How is Gordo?”
“Alpha One, Gordo got shot in the neck, and it hit his aorta. He lost a lot of blood, man. I’m sorry. He did not make it. I’m sorry, brother,” said Condor.
“Shit,” he said, and he took a massive swing at Ramirez, striking him in the face and sending him sprawling to the floor of the van. Agents jumped in to restrain him from continuing to beat up Ramirez.
The vans with their cargo and the agents arrived at an airfield where the G200 Gulfstream was waiting for them. The entire operation had taken less than two hours to complete. Everyone boarded the Gulfstream, except Alex.
“Alex, what are you going to do?” Powers asked.
“I’m staying here, buddy.”
“In Paris? Doing what?”
“I don’t know. This whole thing has been a nightmare. I can’t believe Julia was killed because of me.”
“Was she close to you?” Powers inquired.
“One of these days, I’ll tell you the story. But, yes, we were very close and now she’s gone.”
“We don’t know that for certain.”
“Nobody and no one has a clue. In the meantime, I’ll hang out here. I don’t want to go back to Miami.”
“Okay. But, you can’t blame yourself for this. No one expected this outcome. You have my number. Call me any time.” Powers said, as he boarded the Gulfstream.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PARIS, FRANCE
Efforts to contact Alex had failed for the last three days. He was hiding in plain sight. Spending his days along the Champs-Elysées at the many open-air cafés. He spent evenings by himself in a small apartment he had rented in the center of Paris. All had failed for him. Losing Julia and his best friend, Gordo, had thrown him into a deep depression. Unshaven and disheveled, he made his daily trek to the George V café.
As he sat one day at a sidewalk table, he looked into the restaurant and noticed a television monitor mounted high on the wall and displaying a picture of Julia. He adjusted his focus, not believing that he was actually looking at a screenshot of Julia on Sky News. He ran inside the restaurant. “Monsieur, what are they saying?’ He asked an old Parisian, sitting at the counter drinking his coffee.
“I don’t know. I was not paying attention,” the old Parisian replied.
He waited, looking attentively at the television for an update of the breaking news story. He took a spot at the counter between the old Parisian man and a lady who was not looking too happy to be sitting next to him. With his appearance and behavior, she looked at him with disdain. There it was—the breaking news.
This is Melissa Shields with Sky News updating our breaking news from earlier today. At a press conference in Miami, Florida, Miami’s FBI Director George Shriver is reporting that three members of the Cuban Council in Exile, presumed missing or dead, are alive and well. Julia Muller, the newly elected President of the Council’s Exile group, originally thought to be missing and presumed drowned after a car explosion, has come forth after three days of hiding. Two other members of the Cuban Council, Fernando Casal and Alvaro Lopez, have also come forward. Casal, leader of the militant anti-Castro group, Nova, was accused by the Cuban regime of orchestrating the assassinations in both the U.S. and Cuba. The FBI has cleared Casal of any participation in the horrific murders. We are learning that it was Casal and Lopez, who in the early morning of these assassinations picked up Mrs. Muller and hid her in an Islamorada location in the Florida Keys. The future of the Council—. . .”
Alex stepped away from the television and rushed out of the café. He ran to the first public telephone he could find on the street, fumbled for a credit card, and finally dialed.
“This is Julia Muller. How can I help you?” Julia said, answering her phone.
“Oh, my God, Julia. I can’t believe I’m talking to you,” he said, very excited.
“Alex, we’ve been trying to reach you. Where are you?” She asked.
“In Paris. When can I see you?” He asked.
“How about in a few hours? I need to get out of here. Fire up your cell phone. I’ll call with my arrival information,” she said.
He ran to his apartment. Shaved and showered, he waited patiently for her call. Hours later he was still exuberant and on his way to Charles de Gaulle Airport to pick her up. Locating her gate, he waited. When she came out of the jetway, their eyes met. After a moment of looking into each other’s eyes, they embraced. Their kiss was slow, hot and filled with much passion. They broke away from each other’s face, looked long and hard at each other. They kissed, again. and both shed a few tears without saying very much. Hand in hand, they walked to the limo he had waiting for them. After the limo driver had located her luggage, they both got in the car and held each other in a much needed prolonged embrace.
“What an incredible few days! You’ve got to bring me up to date,” he said.
“Where do I start?” She said. “Let’s start with you buckling up, Monsieur.”
“About that. Who was that in the car with Jonathan?” He asked, as he buckled the seatbelt. “Obviously, neither was wearing a seatbelt.”
“That was Katherine Adams, we now know. She was Jonathan’s mistress. Her body was never found, but airline records indicate they flew down together from Chicago,” she said.
“What happened to the IPO?’ He asked, curiously, as he held her.
“DOJ and SEC took over. No offering. The company is being run by a receiver, and it’s future is to be determined,” she replied. “Had it gone public, it would have been quite a mess. Everything boiled up at the last moment, and the offering was held back. What have you been doing the last few days that you are so out of touch?”
“Nothing. Walking, drinking, thinking. I don’t know if you are aware that Gordo died from a gunshot wound while apprehending Ramirez,” he replied.
“Oh, Alex, I am sorry. I did know. He was your best friend,” she said, squeezing his hand.
“Yeah, well, with him dead and your body never found and presumed dead . . . well, I’ve been pretty much out of it these last few days,” he said, looking into her eyes. “What about Ramirez?”
“He’s been indicted on a few charges. I don’t think he is coming out for a long time,” she said.
“So what happened in Cuba?” He asked.
“Yes, Cuba. Generals Garces and Naviles were arrested and tried for treason, drug smuggling, and embezzling. Of course, they were found guilty, and they were executed two days ago. Whether it was the generals or the Castros that ran MonteCarlo, someone lost a few billion dollars on that deal. Speaking of loss, what are your plans?” She asked.
“I’m definitely out of government work, that’s for sure,” he replied.
“Are you going to practice law?” She inquired.
“I really never practiced law. I’ve been thinking of starting a private intelligence agency. I think there is a market for that,” he said and added, “I have my first recruits ready to join.”
“Oh, really? Who’s that?”
�
�Major John Powers, former Delta Force and both CIA and DOD operative. A good man and tough as nails. And his buddy Javier Alvarez. Also, former Delta.”
“Where were you thinking of setting up shop?”
“I was thinking ‘the windy city’, of course.”
“Ah, I think I would like that.” Julia said and continued. “Now, I have another question.”
“And what is that?” he asked
“Where are we headed?” She inquired.
“Well, I thought we’d go back to the scene of the crime, Madame Muller,” he said in his best Inspector Clouseau imitation. “The George Cinq Hotel.”
“Très bien, Monsieur. I am looking forward to visiting with Chico and the gang,” she said, with a mischievous look in her eyes as her gaze moved below his seatbelt.
They laughed.
THE END
A note from Owen Parr
Thank you for taking the time to read Operation Due Diligence.
I trust you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please, take a few moments to kindly review the novel in Amazon.com.
Read on for a surprise preview of the next Alpha Team Spy Thriller.
Other titles by Owen Parr
Operation Due Diligence —An Alpha Team Spy Thriller -Vol 1
Operation Black Swan — An Alpha Team Spy Thriller -Vol 2
Operation Raven— The Dead Have Secrets - An Alpha Team Spy Thriller -Vol 3
A Murder on Wall Street —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Vol 1
A Murder on Long Island —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery –Vol 2
The Manhattan Red Ribbon Killer —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery —Vol 3
The Case of the Antiquities Collector —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery —Vol 4
The Murder of Paolo Mancuso —A Joey Mancuso, Father O’Brian Crime Mystery —Vol 5
How to Sell, Manage Your Time, Overcome Fear of Rejection —A non-fiction, Self-Improvement Book