Lynn Ames - Beyond Instinct

by Lynn Ames

  “I wouldn’t know.” At Vaughn’s raised eyebrow, he said, “I’m not a political officer.”

  Fascinating. Vaughn tried for her best “perplexed” expression. “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m an academic. I teach in the International Studies department at Johns Hopkins.”

  “Wow. So how did you end up here?”

  “Mali has been my life’s passion. I’m considered somewhat of an expert on the country and its politics. Occasionally, I advise the president and the State Department. Based on the historic nature of the upcoming congressional visit, they asked me to come here and assist in assuring that everything went smoothly.”

  “That’s impressive. It wasn’t a problem to take off mid-semester?”

  “The president has asked me to serve my country. Do you really think the university board members would say they couldn’t spare me?”

  “No, I suppose not. I imagine the prestige of having one of their instructors hand-picked for such an important assignment would outweigh any other concerns.”

  “Indeed. Now, shall we get down to business?”

  Vaughn nodded. She had what she wanted from him, and she’d know soon enough if his story checked out.

  Three hours later, Vaughn and Torgensen agreed to take a break—Torgensen to settle into the hotel before their early afternoon meeting with Jean Baldour, and Vaughn to check in with her security team.

  Torgensen stood at the window in his hotel room at the Hilton. He pulled out his cell phone and pushed redial.

  “Report.”

  “I’m in place.”

  “Good. Any difficulties?”

  “I don’t know yet. I met with Elliott this morning for several hours. We’re scheduled to see the head of the National Assembly in an hour.”

  “Is she going to be a problem?”

  “She asked a lot of questions, but I think she accepted the explanation.”

  “Did she ask anything about the girl?”

  “No.”

  “Interesting. Keep an eye on her just the same.”

  “Right.”

  “And the good Ambassador Dumont?”

  “I saw him briefly when I arrived. He’s a nervous fellow, but I don’t foresee any trouble with him.”

  “Excellent.”

  “If that’s all, I’ve got homework to do before our meeting and not much time to get ready.”

  “Very well. Check in at least once a day, more if there are any significant developments.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The line went dead. Torgensen looked at his watch. He had fifty minutes to become an expert on the National Assembly and Jean Baldour.

  Vaughn did meet with Stephen and his team—just long enough to get from them the background files on all of the security officers who would play any role before and during the congressional visit. Then she dialed a number in Paris.

  “Oui?”

  “Bonjour, Sabastien.”

  “Elliott?”

  “C’est moi.” Vaughn heard the whir and click of machinery and keyboards in the background.

  “What can I do for you today? Track down some hapless drug smuggler, ruin some foreign government’s economy?”

  “Nothing quite that exciting, I’m afraid.”

  “Are you slowing down in your old age? Is that it?”

  “Watch it, pipsqueak. Do you have enough facial hair to shave yet?” Vaughn smiled indulgently. Sabastien Vaupaul was little more than a pimple-faced kid when she’d met him—a computer hacker who had unwittingly disrupted a large undercover case she was working. She saw in him tremendous promise as an ally and recruited him to join the CIA. He’d been her friend ever since.

  “Touché,” Sabastien said. “What absolutely vital piece of information do you need today, oh exalted one?”

  “Cut the crap, Sabastien. I need some background checks.”

  “That’s too easy.”

  “I also want a detailed topographical map with every known location of the Tuareg in Mali and neighboring countries. If there are more than two Tuareg living in an area, I want to know about it.”

  “How do you expect me to find that out?”

  “You’re the genius, remember? How about world census data, political parties, religious groups, places of worship, trade routes, that sort of thing? Use your imagination.”

  Vaughn heard Sabastien groan. “I suppose you want all this yesterday, right?”

  “See, you are a genius.”

  “Give me the names for the background checks. I assume you want the works?”

  “Yes. If they’ve gotten a parking ticket in the last forty years, I want to know it. Give me personal data, professional details, cross check any prior relationships—everything and anything you can find. Oh, and I want pictures too.”

  “Okay.”

  “Raymond Dumont—he’s the U.S. ambassador to Mali—Sage McNally, who works for State, and Aaron Torgensen.” Vaughn was certain that Justine had done a thorough job on her background check of Dumont, but it never hurt to have a second source.

  “Got it.”

  Vaughn chewed her lower lip as she worked through what else she wanted. “Can you get me a phone log from any carrier, anywhere in the world?”

  “Can birds fly?”

  “Some, smart boy, but not all.”

  Sabastien laughed. “Point taken. Yes, most likely I can find a way.”

  “I want a listing of any incoming or outgoing call Dumont has made or received, both at the residence and in his office, in the past two weeks.”

  “Hmm…the ambassador probably has a tie line for long distance calls, so that might present a bit of a challenge. Still, I should have it in your inbox before the day is over.”

  “A tie line?”

  “Umm-hmm.” Vaughn heard the clicking of computer keys and she knew that Sabastien already was working on the case.

  “What’s a tie line?”

  “It means all of his long distance calls are routed through an 800 number in the U.S.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Nothing I can’t overcome.”

  “Also, any internal or external calls Sage McNally made in the last week.”

  “Okay. She works in the embassy?”

  “Yes. I figure what I’m looking for are calls made during work hours.”

  “Well, that narrows it down,” Sabastien said. “Okay, I’m on it.”

  “Thanks. How long will it take for the rest?”

  “That depends on the firewalls I have to bust through. I should be able to get everything to you by later tonight.”

  “Okay. Sabastien?”

  “Oui?”

  “This one’s personal—so please keep it quiet.”

  “You always know you can count on me, Elliott.”

  “That’s why I called you.” Vaughn shut the phone and tapped it against the palm of her hand. Something was off.

  Sabastien was the best in the information business, and he was a friend. Yet, he never mentioned Vaughn’s transfer from the Company and he never questioned why, if she was no longer working, she would need this kind of intel. If he’d known that she was no longer on the payroll, he should’ve hesitated to do the work, or at least he should’ve indicated that Vaughn was putting him in a tough spot.

  Was it possible that he didn’t know she’d been dumped? She hadn’t spoken to him in a year. He was a hidden asset, and as such, was isolated by definition. Still…

  It was just one more piece of the puzzle that made no sense.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “You look great,” Vaughn said, hugging Justine briefly.

  “Thanks for the lie. I’m sure I look like crap. That flight always does me in.”

  “Better recover quickly, we’ve got work to do.”

  “I’m ready.” Justine squeezed Vaughn’s arm as they walked toward the parking lot. “We’ll find Sage. I promise you, we will.”

  Vaughn took a longer stride, pulling away from
the warm, comforting touch. She was afraid for Sage, but she had no intention of letting Justine see that in her eyes. “You know as well as I do that time isn’t on our side at this point.”

  “Your friend Jackson is working the streets?”

  “Yes. We’re going to meet with him now. He’s made a little progress.” Vaughn told Justine about the Tuareg footprints and Jackson’s canvass of the city.

  “It’s a good start,” Justine said. “Solid work.”

  Vaughn unlocked the car doors and threw Justine’s suitcase in the trunk. “Slow and steady isn’t going to win this race, and I’ve got more questions than answers.”

  “Such as?” Justine slid into the passenger seat.

  “The ambassador is too nervous not to be guilty of something, but I’m not sure what that is.”

  “Yet.”

  Vaughn nodded. “Right.” She pulled out into traffic. “Here’s another troubling item.” She related her discussion with Sabastien and her concerns about his lack of curiosity regarding her change in status.

  “Hmm. That is interesting. Do you think he’s secure?”

  Vaughn made a right-hand turn. “If you’re asking me if I think he’s a true friend, the answer is yes. I can’t believe he’d knowingly betray me. I saved his ass from serious jail time and gave him a dream job doing what he loves to do.”

  “He could’ve been compromised without his knowledge.”

  “I’ve thought of that, and I’d say it’s possible. Except that he’s the best there is. I can’t believe he could be monitored without knowing it.”

  “If he wasn’t expecting it…”

  “I suppose anything is possible.” Vaughn waved her hand dismissively. “So here’s the third troubling item. His name is Aaron Torgensen.”

  “Okay.”

  “He claims to be a professor of International Studies at Hopkins. Just happened to be available in the middle of the semester to fly here with perhaps two hours notice to take Sage’s place.”

  “Sounds like Torgensen is certainly worth a closer look.”

  “I’ve got Sabastien doing a check. It’s more than that, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “I can’t place him, but he looks familiar to me. Not only that, he’s spent a lot of time shooting.”

  “And you know that because?”

  “When I shook hands with him, his palm was callused in all the right places.”

  “Interesting.”

  “He and I met with the head of the National Assembly this afternoon. On the surface, Torgensen seemed knowledgeable enough, but he wasn’t as comfortable with the discussion as he should’ve been if he was who he claimed to be.”

  “We should know soon enough, right?”

  “Presumably.”

  “So,” Justine said, “what do we have? We have two possible players in the ambassador and Torgensen, and a question mark in Sabastien.”

  “And the much larger question of why Sage was taken. Is it an independent event or somehow related to the congressional visit? Is there something going on here in Mali and the timing is coincidental to my arrival and the visit? Or is it about the majority leader and her party, and Sage is somehow tied into that?”

  “All good questions,” Justine said. “Why would it be about you?”

  Vaughn blushed involuntarily, but if Justine were really going to help, she would have to know all the facts. “I spent the night with Sage just before she disappeared. She’d gone out for an early morning run at dawn and was coming back to make me breakfast.” Vaughn sucked in a breath and held it, waiting to be judged.

  “Oh. Well, that explains how you knew she was gone so quickly.” There was no reproach in Justine’s tone, for which Vaughn was grateful.

  When a hand softly grasped hers on the steering wheel, Vaughn jumped.

  “It’s okay to move on, Vaughn. Sara would’ve wanted you to.”

  “I—” Vaughn swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. “That wasn’t what this was.”

  “Stop.” Justine’s voice was as soft as her touch. “Whatever it was, it’s obvious you’re worried about Sage. She’s important to you, and that’s nice. If you chose to spend time with her, she must be special.”

  “She’s a nice kid.”

  “So let’s get to the bottom of this. What you’re telling me is Sage may have been targeted because she was tied to you.”

  “I can’t rule it out, except that Dumont clearly didn’t know that Sage and I had been together. So if getting to me was the objective, the ambassador wasn’t in on it.”

  Justine didn’t answer. After several seconds, Vaughn glanced her way. She looked lost in thought, as though she was trying to work through some problem in her head.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure. Remember I told you Fairhaven’s fingerprints were all over your assignment here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I found out something else. It appears Fairhaven may be cozier with State than we thought. He has a history with the illustrious secretary of state.”

  “Is that so?”

  “There’s more. They were boyhood chums. Even went to the same college. It wasn’t until they were in their mid-twenties that they went separate ways,” Justine said.

  “What pulled them apart?”

  “Drugs.”

  “I’m sorry?” Vaughn stepped on the brakes harder than she had intended.

  “The secretary got caught dealing. Apparently, Fairhaven used some of his new-found CIA capital to make the charges disappear.”

  “So the secretary owes him, and all these years later Fairhaven is collecting?”

  “That’s certainly one possibility.”

  “I still can’t see why Fairhaven is so interested in me.”

  “Neither can I. But he is.”

  They were both quiet as Vaughn parked the car. She was mulling over the new revelation.

  “Where are we?”

  Before Vaughn could answer, Jackson hailed them.

  “Please tell me you’ve got good news for me,” Vaughn said, without preamble.

  Jackson ignored her. “Sometimes Vaughn Elliott lacks manners. I am Jackson.”

  “Hi, Jackson.” Justine shook his hand. “I’m Justine.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Vaughn said grumpily. “What’s happening?”

  “Let’s get in the car, first.” Jackson led the way to a beat-up old Renault.

  As soon as they were inside, Vaughn asked, “Well?”

  “If she’s being held locally, nobody knows it. There are some Tuareg within and just outside the city limits, but not many. My contacts tell me it’s more likely that, if the Tuareg have her, they’ve taken her to their home turf—meaning the northern desert. They’d be in their own element up there and much less conspicuous.”

  “The roads aren’t paved heading north, right?” Vaughn was thinking fast.

  “True, but once they got far enough outside the city, they wouldn’t rely on a car.”

  “What?”

  “They’d be on camelback.”

  “And that wouldn’t look a little odd?” Justine asked.

  “Out there, nobody asks questions if they value their lives,” Jackson explained.

  “Fantastic.” Vaughn pounded the dashboard. “What you’re telling me is that by now they’re long gone.”

  “Looks like it.” Jackson stopped the car. “We’re here.”

  The house was unassuming—like all the other houses on the block. A lone figure waited in the darkness on the front porch.

  “Jacques, this is Vaughn Elliott and her friend Justine.” Jackson made the introductions.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Jacques was a short, stocky man who was the diametric opposite of his brother. “Come in.”

  Inside, the home was the picture of a bachelor pad. The furniture was mismatched and dirty dishes were everywhere. Jacques hurriedly cleared some space at a rickety old card table.

  A detailed map of Mali hun
g on the wall. On it were a series of marks.

  Jackson walked to the map. “These here,” he pointed to several black dots, “represent the Tuareg strongholds to the north. We figure one of these is where your friend is being held. These here,” Jackson shifted a little and pointed to a series of blue dots, “represent smaller concentrations of Tuareg. Most of these are settlements where livestock are raised. It’s unlikely these Tuareg would be involved in something of the scope we’re talking about.”

  Vaughn stood with her arms crossed. Conjecture wasn’t certainty; she wanted certainty. Now more than ever, she needed what Sabastien could give her. “I’ve got someone mapping these electronically, using specific criteria. I’m hopeful that will help us narrow down the possibilities further.”

  She looked over at Justine. Exhaustion was etched in every line of her face. Jackson looked fatigued as well. Although she wanted to push on, Vaughn decided letting them sleep would be more productive. “Let’s call it a night. We’ll meet back here at 0600 hours. I should have more answers then.” Vaughn closed her own eyes momentarily. They felt gritty. I will not rest yet, Sage. Stay strong. I’m coming for you.

  She would have Jackson drop them back at the car, then she’d take Justine to the hotel with her and let her sleep in the suite’s other bedroom. Vaughn would spend the next few hours reviewing the data from Sabastien. If there was a solid lead, she would follow it before morning while the others slept, and let them join her when they awakened.

  Sage’s eyes drooped behind the blindfold. Fatigue enveloped her like a blanket, temporarily overpowering her fear. They had been traveling non-stop for hours. The extreme heat finally had stopped beating down on her scalp, so she judged it to be after nightfall. She slipped sideways in the saddle as her body surrendered to sleep, even as her mind struggled to remain vigilant.

  A scream rose in her throat as hands jerked her out of the saddle and she fought to clear the fog from her brain. Sage was alarmed to realize that her hands had been unbound and she hadn’t even stirred. She was handcuffed as soon as her feet hit the ground. This time the cuffs were attached to a belt around her waist so that she could not raise her hands or arms. She was marched forward.