by Darrell Bain
“No, you look,” She interrupted. “You've got the hots over a woman you just met, and if you told her we weren't married, you've compromised our cover. You did, didn't you?”
“Yes, but-damn it, Shirley, they already knew who we were.”
“What! Tell me how.”
“I don't know, and frankly, I don't care.” That was a pure lie. He did care. Now that Shirley knew, that meant someone back in Washington was compromised, someone who was working for the powers that be in Masterville. Or at least feeding them information. He thought back over how quickly the Op had gone down and settled on Terrell, the friendly operations manager as the likely source. They had tipped a few on several occasions when he was between assignments. Come to think of it, he showed much the same mannerisms as Lisa and Marybeth. Somehow tonight, he knew he was going to have to get Lisa aside and question her further. If Masterville was no threat, why did they have a spy in the agency?
“Dan, you need to start caring. I'm going to have to report this.”
“Ratting out your own partner?”
“If they knew we were coming, and who we were, there's a mole inside the agency working for them. It can't be anything else.”
“It could be another agency. The FBI might have jumped in and not told anyone. Don't jump to conclusions and don't get one of our people in trouble over something they might have had nothing to do with. Not unless we know for certain.”
Shirley twisted her lips into a gesture of capitulation. “You're right, and you've got a rep for being right, Dan. Okay, I'll let it be for the moment. But this isn't funny any longer, you have to admit that.”
Daniel agreed, but he also believed Lisa, and was confident that his instincts, both originally and now, were right: there was no National Security threat here. But there was a threat. He remembered that careening SUV, the driver's face hidden by a hat and by crouching far down in the seat, in precisely the approved agency method, looming larger in his vision like a rampaging elephant on the attack as it bore down on him.
“Damned right, it isn't funny. Shirley, suppose I told you that someone tried to kill me today.”
“So, these people are dangerous. Damn it, Daniel-”
“Hold it. The attempt was going to be made to look like an accident. Remember our training? It went down exactly like that. If it wasn't agency, it damn sure resembled our methods. So don't get in a hurry to jabber to Crafton. It's possible that you could be in danger, too. Have you thought about that?”
“But why would we-they—want you out of the way? Or me? Hell, we just got here. You haven't been involved with these people before have you?” She peered closely at him, trying to gauge his honesty.
“No, I promise. I never heard of them before this Op. And before you even ask, I've done nothing that I know of which warrants being taken off the board. I've been just as loyal as anyone, despite a propensity for asking embarrassing questions. And I haven't run afoul of any other agency, government or otherwise that would warrant such a step.”
Shirley was quiet for a moment, her pretty face twisted up in a frown of concentration. “Something's screwy here. Come on, let's get something to eat. We can talk some more on the way.”
* * * *
Nothing was resolved by the time they picked a restaurant, other than that under persistent questioning, Daniel agreed to ask Lisa directly about the almost certain existence of a source in Washington. Shirley promised again to wait until after that before reporting back in, and they left it at that.
Daniel was so absorbed in thought that he completely missed the second attempt on his life that day-and if Shirley hadn't been alerted by the revelation that a previous attempt had been made, she probably would have missed it, too.
It was very straightforward and well played. Just as the waitress was bringing out their order, a patron who had arrived after them suddenly stood up in front of her, apparently speaking on a cell phone. He managed to bumble his way in front of the young woman while acting agitated by an imaginary conversation. Shirley saw his free hand pass over their open-faced burgers and iced tea, a seemingly innocuous movement disguised by waving his hand as if he were in distress. From where she sat, she caught only the barest glimpse of a nearly invisible spray descending over their food from something concealed in his hand. He stuttered and apologized to the waitress, then cancelled his order, claiming an emergency of some kind, and hurried out the door. She never caught a good glimpse of his face.
Shirley reached out and caught Daniel's hand just as he was going to take a drink of his iced tea. He frowned at the look on her face and the pressure of her hand, her nails biting into his skin. He knew something was wrong, but not what.
“Leave enough cash on the table for the food and let's go, now.” Shirley whispered as soon as the waitress left, leaning forward to avoid being overheard.
Daniel pulled out his wallet and dropped two twenties on the table and followed Shirley's lead as she got up and headed to the door. She paused at the exit, looking left and right as if searching for something or someone, causing him to do the same. His senses were alerted but he still had no idea of what had spooked his partner.
He followed Shirley out onto the sidewalk, noting the grim set of her mouth, lips drawn into a tight line. She didn't say anything until they were back in their car.
“All right, what was it?”
“I apologize, Dan. You didn't spot it, did you?”
“Spot what?”
“Someone just tried to kill you again, and apparently didn't give a damn whether they got me in the process or not. And just like you said; it looked like agency work”
“What happened?”
“The old bump-the-waitress-while-causing-a-distraction and doctoring the food and drink. Probably Toxigen.” Her voice was shaky as she responded to the question.
Daniel shuddered. Toxigen was a substance which metabolized quickly in the body, leaving no trace byproducts and which caused runaway atrial fibrillation an hour or two later. If they had both died, it would have been seen as a rare coincidence and possibly led to an investigation by the health department, but nothing would ever have been proven since once exposed to air, it decomposed even without being consumed, not to mention that by the time its effects were felt, the contaminated food would probably have been disposed of. And as a last defense against discovery, the toxin was a closely-held secret and matching spectrograph patterns were nonexistent outside the agency files.
Since the seat was already adjusted for Shirley, she took the wheel. She had hardly gotten underway when her phone rang. She hit the speaker button and listened as a series of code words, similar to those assigned to every field agent, came over the phone. Daniel had no idea what they meant since they were designed for passing on predesignated orders anywhere and at anytime with no fear of compromising the agent.
“Well, so much for this Op,” Shirley said, hitting the switch to turn her phone back off.
“What? Has it been cancelled?”
“No, I've just been recalled. So far as I know, it's still a go. I'm just not involved any more; at least not here and not for the time being.”
“Nothing about a replacement?”
“No.”
“Now what can that be about? Other than maybe someone wanting to get me alone.”
“Who knows? Listen, Daniel, I'll have to go, but drive me to Memphis first, then I'll fly back and you can keep the car.” She smiled grimly. “We can grab a snack on the way. They can't poison all the damn food in Arkansas.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Daniel offered to drive but Shirley elected to stay in the driver's seat on the way to Memphis. They used the time to go back to the beginning of the operation and discuss every aspect of it, including the assassination attempts. On that matter they came up empty, not being able to figure out why their own bosses would want one or both of them dead. Somewhere back in the archives of his mind, Daniel was beginning to get a hint, but it wasn't a conscious per
ception yet. On the other hand, he and Shirley were able to agree that the whole Masterville investigation must somehow be connected to politics, what with the President and director both displaying very public personas of pious churchgoing believers.
Shirley was disgusted with the conclusion but was unable to completely remove herself from it.
“I think there's a need for our elected officials to have some sort of moral code, and Christianity works well, so long as it's not overdone.”
“That's the problem, all right,” Daniel agreed. “Church and state are supposed to be kept completely separate, though in practice it's never been quite that way. In fact, I did some reading on that very aspect of government some time back, and I think we did very well at separating the two up until the second Bush was elected, despite blue laws and prayers and such by public officials. But Bush Junior sincerely believed he had been appointed by God to fight the war on terror, such as it can be fought. Personally, I think we're just in the middle of another of the great paradigm shifts that take place in religions every few centuries, and I doubt we'll see the outcome of it in our lifetimes.”
“What do you think the outcome will be?”
“There are too many factors in the game to make a prediction. Nuclear weapons, oil, religion and technology developments like those depolymerization plants you see everywhere now making oil from garbage and refuse will all play a part. That process may very well cause the Islamic nations to lose their principal source of revenue, and that will really open up a can of worms. It's already causing unrest, and I guess you've noticed a couple of those DP plants have already been targeted by terrorists.”
“So they have. I just assumed they were targets of opportunity. Are they really that important?”
Daniel shrugged, even though Shirley's attention was fixed on the highway. “A lot of money is being invested in them, and they appear to work pretty well. The stories you read say they're competitive, but that may be partly hype. I suppose we'll know in a few years. Regardless, if it's not the DP process, there's always natural gas and tar sands and shale oil and coal God knows what else. One thing is certain, though: Now that the government and private enterprise have really got going on alternative sources of energy, the Mideast is going to lose a lot of its geopolitical importance over the next decade or two, and that's bad news.”
“How so?”
“Their people are in bad enough straits already. Lose the oil revenue and they go the way of Africa, only in their case, you can bet we'll be the ones getting the blame. Almost all of the Moslem nations have become theocracies and their leaders will tell the poor sots that Christianity is the culprit.”
“You sound as if you've studied the subject.”
“I read a lot, and history is one of my favorite subjects. I think the biggest question is whether the tide of fundamentalism slows down, both for Christianity and for Islam. If not, we'll have even more of a religious war than we already do. We can certainly prevail militarily, but there's always guerilla warfare, and it underwent a paradigm shift, too, with the advent of so many Moslems willing to martyr themselves. Damned if I know how it will all end.”
“Well, if you don't, I sure don't either. It's too deep for me. I just try to do my job.”
Daniel chuckled. “You do stay focused; I have to give you that.”
“You have a reputation of being the same way.”
“Well, apparently someone has decided I've lost my edge. Maybe when I resign, whoever it is will leave me alone.”
“You're resigning? When did this decision come about?”
“Maybe when I saw that SUV coming at me. No, something like that wouldn't have done it. I really don't know, Shirley; it just seems like the time to quit. I've never been tied to the agency like some people are.”
“Crafton and Phillips don't like resignations.”
“I'll send it in. Frankly, I don't want to go back to that office. And also frankly, I'm wondering why you're chancing it after that restaurant scene.”
Shirley glanced over at him then back at the highway. She twitched her shoulders. “I don't think it was meant for me. For some reason you've become a target. And we don't know that it was our people. Any field agent makes enemies.”
Daniel left it at that. Resigning wasn't mentioned again, though they did manage a pleasant conversation during the drive. There was even some laughter about the two sexless nights they had slept together, with Shirley teasing him about him having a fetish for redheads and him retaliating by accusing her of having a fondness for women. In the end, when he pulled into the front of the terminal of the airport, she surprised him by giving him a firm kiss on the lips.
“Good luck, Dan,” She said. “I don't know what's going on, but I think you're a good man and I really hope it all works out for you. Be careful, okay?”
“Thanks, Shirley. I'll do my best. And you're a good person, too. Don't let the place corrupt you.”
“No chance of that.”
* * * *
Daniel watched Shirley's figure until she was out of sight within the confines of the terminal, then drove off. As soon as he was away from the airport traffic, he began looking for a pay phone. He found one at a Quick Stop Market and pulled in. One thing he hadn't told Shirley was that he suspected Terrell might have been the leak at headquarters. He dialed his number and was asked to wait. He held for a moment or two, then someone he didn't know answered.
“I'm sorry but Mister Terrell isn't available at the moment. Can I help you in some way?”
“No thanks.” Daniel hung up the phone. He knew for a fact that Terrell rarely turned down an incoming call; he didn't have many of them. And he didn't recognize the voice that answered. Best bet was that he had been gathered up by Internal Affairs. He shivered involuntarily at the thought. Becoming entangled with IA was like going over Niagara Falls without a barrel: very few people survived the encounter.
He drove off, and on impulse, stopped at the first convenient place and checked his atlas, deciding to get back to Masterville by a route other than the most obvious. It would mean driving on some very rough back roads, but he didn't mind. Better safe than sorry. On second thought, he turned around and traded in the rental car for another one, just in case a tracer had been hung on it. In that, he was correct; Shirley might have told him after the attempt on their lives, but it had slipped her mind. In any case, he had already damned himself with the phone call; the technicians who monitored those devices would know just where he had been the next time they checked for movement.
* * * *
Three hours later, with Crafton having gotten a report that Daniel had been eliminated, but that unfortunately, his partner had been in the pattern, he was reporting the fact to Philips. In the midst of the conversation, his AA burst into his office waving her hands frantically. Not daring to interrupt a monolog by his boss, he made writing motions with his free hand. Seconds later, she slipped a piece of paper into his view. It read Not certain Stenning and Rostervik taken out. Their car traced to Memphis Airport and to rental lot.
An involuntary curse escaped Crafton's mouth as he read the note. Just a short while ago he had gotten word that a lethal dose of Toxigen had been slipped into their food and that they would soon be dead. Now, unless someone had stolen their car and driven to Memphis, the latest attempt had failed again. And he didn't believe the car had been stolen. No, Shirley Rostervik must be on her way back, just as ordered and Stenning, good agent that he was, had switched cars. He just hoped he was going back to Masterville. It was incredible that Stenning could have escaped again, but it must be what had happened. Drawing a deep breath, he interrupted the NSA Director.
“Sir, I have to correct myself. It appears now that the latest attempt failed somehow and that-”
“Goddamn it, you said they were dead! Both of them!”
“Sir, I said they would be, but for some reason they must not have touched the food. I'm sorry. I'll contact Bevins and-”
“I've had enough. That man must be a goddamned telepath to have gotten away from Bevins twice. Tell him to take him out any way he can, just so long as he doesn't leave agency fingerprints on the scene.”
Crafton shrank back from the phone, as if it were a lethal weapon suddenly pointed in his direction. He damn sure didn't want any wet work traced back to him. He was Stenning's immediate superior and he knew that if it became public knowledge that the NSA was involved, he would take the fall. “Yes, sir. I'll give him the word. It will be done tonight, somehow.”
“You tell Bevins if he misses again, he's going to be the subject of the very next Op. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Crafton responded to an empty circuit. Phillips had already hung up. And he knew he would be hung up to dry if Stenning didn't head back to Masterville, to where Bevins could have another shot at him.
* * * *
It was after dark when Daniel finally made it back to Masterville. He approached the B&B cautiously, driving by it a couple of times before deciding that it was safe to park and go in. He did intend to move out the next day to a different location though, and take Lisa with him if she would come. He hoped she would.
He parked and walked up to the side entrance and knocked from force of habit, even though the women had told him he didn't have to bother. Lisa opened the door. Her face brightened into a big smile as she saw that it was him. She came into his arms and kissed him thoroughly before remembering that he was supposed to have a “wife” with him. She stepped back, looking around. “Where's Shirley?”
“She got called back to Washington. I'm by myself now.”
“Will they replace her?”
“They may try, but it wouldn't do any good. I'm going to fax my resignation in if you don't mind me using your phone line.”
Lisa's smile widened to an almost impossible width. “You bet. Come on into the office and you can do it right now!”
“Good. Thanks. Would you happen to have anything drinkable around here? You can put it on my bill. No wait, my credit will probably be cancelled the minute I resign, if it hasn't already been.”