Bodyguard of Lies

by Bob Mayer

  “What about Gant’s piece of the puzzle?” Racine asked.

  “I have that,” Neeley said.

  “And your piece?” Racine asked.

  “I have that too,” Neeley said, surprised at the question.

  “Good,” Racine said. “So before I kill you I can make you give both those pieces over to me. Real slow.”

  Neeley gestured and Hannah stepped forward with a nightie in her hands. "Open you mouth."

  "Fuck you!" Racine yelled.

  Neeley stepped forward and pressed the end of the gun against his lips. "Open or I blow it open."

  Racine opened his mouth and Hannah stuffed the silky wad in. Then she tied another around his head.

  When Hannah was done, Neeley looked down upon the helpless Racine. "Contact your boss. Tell him we want to talk."

  Racine could only glare up at her.

  "They'll find you soon, no harm done. We'll be long gone."

  Neeley turned and walked out of the dressing room, Hannah following.

  CHAPTER 16

  "You did well," Neeley told Hannah.

  They had driven to the airfield outside Lawrence in a state of emotional collapse. They were waiting in the small metal hanger. There was no one else around this late in the day, just two small planes parked on the tarmac. They had a bench, a vending machine, four walls, a concrete floor and a ceiling.

  Hannah turned to Neeley. "I did well? What's that supposed to mean?"

  Neeley now understood why Racine had been careful at the house and the restaurant. The idea that the Cellar wanted Hannah alive was more frightening than the fear of a quick, clean hit. And what had Racine meant about her piece? What did they think she had?

  "He was going to kill you, wasn't he?" Hannah said in a level tone of voice.

  "That's the basic idea," Neeley said.

  “What do you have that they want?” Hannah asked.

  Neeley shook her head. “I have no idea what Racine meant by that.”

  Hannah stared at her for several seconds.

  “It’s the truth,” Neeley said.

  “It’s the third piece and he thought you had it,” Hannah said. “Interesting.”

  Neeley said nothing.

  “And why does Nero want me?” Hannah asked.

  “I don’t know,” Neeley said. “Maybe to learn something about John.”

  Hannah changed the subject. "What are we going to do?"

  Neeley knew she had to start letting Hannah in on some of what was going on. "I guess we have to find this videotape. Knowing Gant, it's cached somewhere."

  “If we get it, will he make the deal?"

  "Racine can't make a deal. He doesn't have the power to. That's why we left him like that; besides the fact we didn't have the tape to deal with yet. But the man he works for can."

  "And if Nero doesn't?"

  "We're no worse off than we were before," Neeley said. "Actually better off because we have Racine off our tail. Which reminds me," she added, taking Hannah by the arm.

  "Which reminds you of what?" Hannah asked, standing and allowing herself to be led.

  "Training time." She led Hannah to the car and opened the trunk. "We have to get this gear stowed quickly when the plane lands in the morning."

  Hannah looked at the equipment. “What are those cases?”

  “Guns.”

  “I've never handled a gun before."

  Neeley put a hand on Hannah's arm. "Don't be afraid of these guns. They work the same for you as they do for anyone else. A bullet doesn’t care if you’re a man or a woman. Neither does the gun." She pulled two large rucksacks out. "Let's pack first, and then we can have your first lesson."

  They quickly broke down the load from the footlocker, cases and duffel bags. Neeley packed two rucksacks, and reloaded the duffel bags for the trip. Then she pulled out a pistol. "This is a Berretta 9mm pistol. It's the same thing the US military uses and if a GI can use it, then you can too. It's a very safe gun."

  "That sounds like a contradiction if ever I heard one," Hannah said.

  Neeley picked up a magazine. "Fifteen rounds in the magazine, which is a lot of bullets." She slipped it into the butt of the weapon and slammed it home. "You can feel it lock in place." She pushed a button. "That's the magazine release." Neeley looked up. "Always, always, and always remember to make sure the chamber is empty also. Just because you take the magazine out, that doesn't mean the gun is unloaded. There can still be a round in the chamber."

  "What's the chamber?" Hannah asked.

  "Jeez," Neeley muttered. She pulled back on the slide. "Here, this is the chamber," she said, pointing into the small hole on the side of the receiver that was now exposed. "That's where the bullet that is to be fired sits."

  Hannah chuckled. “I knew that. I was just pulling your leg.”

  Neeley stared at the other woman for a few moments, trying to figure out how she could be so relaxed in these circumstances. It was as if there was a disconnect in Hannah between reality and emotion.

  Neeley put the magazine back in, and pulled back the slide. "There's a bullet in there now." She removed the magazine. "That bullet is still in there. Thus the gun, despite not having a magazine in it, is still loaded. With one round at least." Neeley moved her thumb. "This is the safety. I can set it either way. Are you right or left handed?"

  "Right handed," Hannah said,

  "Fine, then it's ready for you."

  Hannah took the gun. She slid the magazine in and chambered a round. Then she removed the magazine and pulled the slide back, taking the round out of the chamber.

  “When you shoot, double-tap,” Neeley said. “Always double-tap.”

  Hannah nodded. “Two shots, right?”

  Neeley smiled. “All that reading was good for something, wasn’t it?”

  “And to the head.” Hannah was looking down the barrel. “That’s what the books say.”

  Neeley nodded. “To the head. A person can be wearing body armor. The head is always best. If you shoot, shoot to kill. None of that wounding crap on TV. A wounded person is a very dangerous person who is also now very angry at you.”

  Neeley kept the lessons going as they waited. The evening began to close in on the flat Kansas countryside and Neeley grew more nervous. Racine would be free by now. There was no reason to believe he would look for them here, but Neeley wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible.

  They went out to the deserted airstrip and Neeley set up cans and let Hannah fire away. She was all right, but Neeley knew a lot more training would be needed to get her up to operational speed.

  Neeley thought of the last time she had seen Kent. He was someone Gant had known from the service and then from the shadow world. Gant had hired him to fly them up into the Rockies from Vermont for extreme cold weather training. Kent had shown up at Montpelier Airport on time and taken Gant's cash, then immediately taken off and headed west. Flying somewhere over the Midwest Gant had produced rule number 9. "Never walk when you can ride. Never ride when you can fly."

  She handed Hannah another weapon and started the wait for morning.

  ***************

  It was quiet except for the sound of the air system circulating. Nero had lived with that sound for so long, he would only be conscious of its absence. His living quarters were through a concealed door at the back of his office, a small room a monk would have been proud to call his own. Nero had not left the Cellar for eleven years. He’d even had his throat surgery done down here.

  An eight inch stack of paper was on the left corner of the desk, delivered there by Mrs. Smith, as she did every day. They were top secret intelligence summaries coded into Braille. Nero reached underneath the top of his desk and pressed a button turning on a hidden radio. The voice of the BBC news whispered through the room as he took the first piece of paper, rapidly running his forefinger across the raised dots.

  A slight smile crossed Nero’s lips as he read the report about Racine being bested in Kansas City.
He knew what it must have cost the man to make that report. The smile was gone when he got to the section that detailed the support from the Agency that Racine had requested. The women must have upset Racine mightily. Nero could not recollect a time when Racine had asked for so much assistance.

  Was it too much? Nero wondered briefly.

  He closed the file and lit a cigarette, deep in thought. He had learned one of the most difficult things about running operations was to not do anything at critical junctures, to allow the pieces in place to continue their course. He realized his desire to intervene was based on hope, not a good motive. He had to let things play out and live with the results, even if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

  That didn’t mean he would do nothing, though. A good chunk of the eight inches of paper Mrs. Smith had delivered were concerning events in the Sudan, Somalia and elsewhere in the covert world in October 1993. Nero knew he’d missed something and he was determined to find it.

  Nero lit another cigarette and continued reading the reports, the soothing sound of the BBC in the background.

  CHAPTER 17

  Neeley looked up from their meager vending machine breakfast when she heard the engine. As the plane approached, Neeley glanced at Hannah and smiled. "Never walk when you can ride, never ride when you can fly."

  They had slept fitfully, but they'd be in Boulder before lunch. Hannah nudged the heavy rucksack with her foot. "That is so profound," she muttered. Sleeping on a bench was not her idea of a restful night.

  The twin-engine propeller plane landed. Kent was a large, burly man and he didn't get out after he stopped the plane right in front of them, engines running. He pulled the cockpit window open.

  "Got the money?" he shouted above the noise of the propellers.

  Neeley walked up and handed him a stack of bills. Hannah watched the exchange without comment.

  "Let's get loaded ladies. Time's a wasting," Kent yelled.

  After what seemed like forever the gear was aboard in the lower hold and Hannah, sitting behind Kent now, seemed relaxed. Neeley climbed in the co-pilot's seat.

  As they took off and started west, Neeley noted that Hannah was flirting with Kent and he seemed to be responding. Her memories of Kent were of his taciturn can-do gruffness. He had obviously respected Gant, but his attitude toward Neeley had been one of mere tolerance for her relationship with Gant. She had added him to the never-ending list of misogynists who seemed to populate Gant's world.

  Yet here with Hannah he was acting like a fawning love-struck beau. Hannah's voice had assumed an almost girlish quality as she asked him questions about the plane. Hannah had him prattling on about fuel consumption, flying time and the refueling stops between here and Jeffco Airport in Colorado, just outside of Boulder. Neeley found the change in persona strange and irritating.

  Neeley wondered if she was going to have to shoot them both before they reached the Rockies. Kent was just beginning to explain the concept of wings when Neeley noticed the plane veering toward a flat open field. It was a very clear morning and despite the distance, Neeley could see two dark sedans parked at the far edge of the field in a tree line.

  "Kent, what the hell is going on?"

  "Hey, Neeley, no hard feelings OK? They're not gonna hurt you, I swear. Racine just wants to talk to you. He says he wants to deal. Said you put an offer out and that Nero’s accepted."

  Neeley didn’t believe that for a second. She slid her hand inside her jacket, grabbing the butt of her Glock. "You son-of-a-bitch! You've killed us! Why?"

  Kent didn't answer as he shoved the yoke forward and the nose of the plane dipped down toward the landing strip. Neeley knew it wasn't the brightest idea to shoot a pilot in the middle of landing, but she pulled her gun anyway. Kent, as she expected, ignored the weapon.

  The wheels touched with a light bounce and they were down. Kent began doing all sorts of things with the controls, slowing them down, when Hannah suddenly leaned forward between the seats and slammed a heavy metal clipboard that she'd found in the back against the side of Kent's head.

  Neeley grabbed the sagging pilot. "Jesus Christ, Hannah! Who's going to stop the plane?" They were rolling at fifty miles an hour and although there was another half mile of field, there was a row of trees at the end of that.

  Hannah squirmed forward between the two seats, all signs of flirtation and innocence gone. "Here, come on, switch seats with me."

  Neeley slithered between the seats over Hannah, who quickly claimed her place in the co-pilot’s seat as half the distance to the end of the field went by. Hannah placed her hands on the controls.

  Neeley leaned forward, looking over Hannah’s shoulder. "You can handle this?"

  Hannah kept her focus forward. "Look, I'm not great at this but I do know how the wings work, contrary to what your friend here thought." Hannah shook her head. “I’m not so stupid I would have knocked him out if I hadn’t had a plan.”

  Hannah did something and the plane slowed further. Hannah jerked a thumb at Kent. "You don't want to take him with us, do you? I should be mad at him and we could just chuck him out now, but I thought we'd slow down a bit."

  Neeley looked out the front windshield. There were several men standing around the two cars. They had that suit, sunglasses, blown dry hair look of guns for hire, government type. Average IQ was probably double digits but Neeley knew they could probably shoot quite well. They were watching as the plane rolled toward their position.

  "Toss him!" Hannah yelled.

  Neeley reached over, unbuckled Kent's shoulder harness, and then pushed down on the lever, opening his door. He fell, hit and rolled and Hannah turned the plane and was accelerating as Neeley pulled the door shut. The men finally realized something was wrong and they were running toward the plane but Neeley knew they were already too late. She had no idea if Kent had broken his neck and she didn't really care. That was the price of betrayal.

  Hannah pulled back and they were airborne as the goons began fruitlessly firing their pistols at the rapidly receding plane.

  "My God," Neeley said, "you really can fly."

  Hannah checked her gauges. "Ten lessons, thank you very much. I won them at the annual Spring Charity Bazaar." She was peering out the window. "I wish I'd gone to all of them now," she added in a lower tone of voice.

  Neeley leaned forward and placed a hand on Hannah's shoulder. "Please tell me you went to the one on landing."

  Hannah shook her head. "Sorry, that one conflicted with bridge club. As you can tell, I did go to the one on take-offs. Landing can't be that hard. I watched the way Kent did it. I have it all figured out in my head. Really."

  Neeley rubbed her chin nervously.

  Hannah pointed with a free hand at the control panel. "Hey, the compass says we're heading in the right direction. West." She looked around. "There's Interstate 70 to the far left. The road below us parallels it. We can follow that." She smiled. "And the sun sets in the west. And we’ll see the Rocky Mountains. And--" she paused. "Oh shit. There's a helicopter."

  Neeley swung around and spotted a small black OH-6 helicopter heading straight for them from the north. Gant had called that type of chopper a Little Bird and told her it was extremely dangerous. It was the type of helicopter he’d flown into and out of Mogadishu on.

  Hannah reached down and pulled the throttle out all the way. "I'll fly. You take care of the chopper."

  "How the hell am I going to do that?" Neeley yelled. "I didn't exactly pack any air-to-air missiles."

  "I don't know. Didn't Gant teach you to deal with a situation like this?"

  "Damn," Neeley muttered. She opened the top of her backpack.

  Hannah yelled something inarticulate and Neeley looked up. A line of tracers seared across the nose of the plane, and then the helicopter swooped by. Neeley could see the chain gun pod hung out the right door. "God is on the side of the superior firepower," she muttered as she reached into the bag. Another of Gant's rules.

  "What?" Ha
nnah asked.

  "Nothing," Neeley said as she kept the chopper in sight. The pilot was maneuvering around behind them for another run.

  Hannah was glancing back every so often at the helicopter chasing them. The plane had dropped close to the roadway. Neeley clearly saw a coke can in the gravel they were so low.

  “Too low,” Neeley called out.

  “Hold on,” Hannah said.

  The helicopter followed them, still firing, spraying bullets on the roadway right behind them. But not low enough. As Neeley was pulling an MP-5 submachinegun out of the pack she heard the explosion.

  "What the hell happened?" Neeley exclaimed.

  Hannah continued the turn to the right and they both looked as the burning fireball that had been the helicopter hit the road. Pieces cart wheeled through the air.

  Neeley stared at the power lines stretching behind them, across the road. Two lines were down, snapping and crackling on the pavement.

  "Jesus, Hannah, you flew under those power lines!"

  “I did. He missed them. Tunnel vision in a sense.” Hannah pulled back on the yoke and the plane gained some altitude. “I think Gant was maybe wrong on this one. Maybe sometimes it's better to walk."

  Neeley nodded in agreement. "They know we're in a plane and they'll cover all the airfields. Find a smooth place to land, preferably close to a farm where we can get a car. This time we pay top dollar."

  Hannah didn’t say anything, concentrating on flying for a few minutes as she regained her equilibrium.

  "Speaking of dollars," Hannah finally said as she peered ahead, trying to find some place to land, "I saw that stack you gave Kent. Exactly how much money do you have?"

  "A million dollars. Well, a half now."

  "You have a half million dollars in a duffel bag?"

  "It's my nest egg."

  "Big egg. You did better in that area with your man than I did with mine."

  “I got the money,” Neeley said, emphasizing the first word.

  “But I bet Gant taught you how,” Hannah noted. “John didn’t teach me a damn thing worthwhile. Asshole.”