Welch, D [Shadow People 02] Shadow Spies

by Doug Welch

  The man seemed consumed with rage when he spoke of the Shadows. Paris thought about denying any knowledge of the People, but decided that it would only prolong the conversation. He needed to conclude this and leave.

  He pretended to look defeated and sighed; dropping his shoulders as though he was ready to capitulate. “What information do you want?”

  “We want all of you father's research – including his journals,” he said.

  Paris seethed inside. How did this bastard know about his father's research? Someone was an informer. Only a few people who were not Shadows knew about it.

  “I burned the material,” Paris ventured, “it doesn't exist.”

  “You kept computer copies. We know. We want those records.”

  Paris thought furiously. How did Shadoe know the documents still existed or what they contained? This wasn’t a leak it was a fucking hemorrhage! He needed insurance against this bastard but what? He decided to dither and probe Shadoe’s mind.

  “I told you, I burned it. How can I give you something I don't have?” Paris asked, almost whining.

  His opponent appeared to become more confident. “Talk to your new father-in-law, Mister Fox. Tell him Shadoe sends his regards.”

  Edward, he thought. Where did Edward fit in this? It was hard to believe that Edward would put Beth's life in jeopardy. “What has Edward got to do with this?” Paris asked.

  “Hasn't he told you? He's one of our colleagues.”

  Paris' control slipped. He knew that Edward had belonged to a group of maverick intelligence agents who were determined to expose the Shadows, but he was convinced that Edward was also loyal to the Family. Could it be that his hatred of the Shadows had made him betray them?

  “Suppose I can't obtain the items that you want. If you're a friend of Edward’s, why are you threatening his daughter?”

  “We won't harm your wife. In fact, she’s safe with us. But if you don’t comply with our demands, you will never see her again. –You see Mister Fox, your wife is a bigamist or almost. She was betrothed to one of the most powerful men in Iran at a very early age. The dowry was paid, and in the Middle East, that makes it a done deal. For all practical purposes, they consider her married. –Although she might be considered damaged goods, now. –She’s also a fugitive from Iranian Law. That is, if you can consider their barbaric religious customs law. All we have to do is persuade some of our friends in the State Department to deport her back to Iran. –See? Our hands are clean. Of course you know how they treat women in the Middle East, like cattle. Who knows what her fate may be, or the fate of her unborn child? She is, after all, a beautiful woman.”

  Paris' rage built as each word hammered into his brain. He bordered on the verge of killing the man who sat beside him, but he controlled himself with enormous effort. As an Adept he could render the man mindless, but he didn't want to reveal his abilities until the right time.

  “You know Mister Scumbag, I learned in the service how to kill a man with my bare hands. If you don't shut your fucking mouth right now, I'm going to see if my skills are rusty, regardless of the consequences. At the very least, it will bring the attention of the police, and who knows where that will lead? Right now your filthy mouth is counterproductive to our negotiations. Where and when do we make the trade?”

  He sensed the man's mind-glow change, along with his expression. His attitude became less confrontational.

  “We’ll be contacting you with instructions. Meanwhile I promise you, your wife will be safe with us. You bring the materials we seek and your wife will be returned without harm. Do enjoy the show, Mister Fox. Stay for at least a half hour and then you may leave.” He rose.

  Paris jumped to his feet. He stared into the man's eyes. “Wait. There is no way that I will trust you.”

  His voice sounded cold to his ears. “If you don't do what you say, I will spend my life hunting you down. I will find every one of you and I will kill all of you slow and with a lot of pain. I’ll make sure it takes a long time for you to die. Do you understand me?”

  Shadoe stared back. “Perfectly, Mister Fox. There should be no problem as long as you comply with our demands. Good night.”

  Paris had another motivation for stopping him. While he spoke, he weaved a pattern, one that he could imprint on Shadoe's mind, a pattern that would not be obvious but one that could tilt the odds in his favor. He fixed it, and withdrew.

  He watched as the man left the club, followed by one of his accomplices.

  He’d sensed Kitty’s absence and knew she followed them. He waited until the dancers had stripped to the nude and then walked out to the street. He hoped that she could discover something, anything, that could lead them to Elizabeth, but he could only wait and see. He flagged a taxi and returned to the suite.

  Chapter 12

  Kitty

  In the bar mirror, Kitty saw the man who sat at the table with Paris rise to leave.

  For the past twenty minutes, she'd been entertained by a guy who sat next to her at the bar. He’d been trying to buy her drinks and chatting with her, obviously trying to pick her up. It was a good cover, so she’d endured it.

  After seeing Paris’ companion leave, she stood up from the bar seat and shouted, “I'm not a hooker!” She grabbed her purse, pretending to be furious, and stormed out of the club.

  The poor guy's probably really confused. She emerged into the street, laughing to herself. He hadn't been too bad looking either.

  She beckoned to a taxi that sat parked down the street waiting for her. The driver was an FBI agent. He’d been waiting undercover as back up, in the event that something went wrong.

  He pulled away from the curb and drove down the street to pick her up. She opened the door and sat in the rear seat.

  “They're coming out. Pretend to be arguing with me when they leave the bar, so we don't miss them.”

  The Agent looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Did you get any pictures?”

  The FBI had provided her with a special cell phone that could shoot wide angle images. “Yeah, but I had to shoot them in the bar mirror, I hope they come out all right. Let me get out of the cab, and I'll pretend to be a drunken broad negotiating with you. It’ll look more ordinary, at least for Vegas. Then we can follow them.”

  She exited the cab and walked around to the front window leaning into it.

  “Ever thought of becoming an agent?” He asked, grinning at her.

  “In your dreams, buddy, in your dreams.” She pretended to be slightly tipsy and batted her eyelashes. “Is he there yet?”

  “Someone just came out. Can you see him in the side mirror?”

  She looked at both mirrors and saw the man who had sat near the mirrored bar emerge. He looked up and down the street, ignoring Kitty and the cab. He nodded and then the man who had sat with Paris joined him. They looked around the street.

  “Hey,” she said in a loud voice, slurring her words, and hanging on the window, “just take me somewhere nice where I won't be hit on all night, alright? You know somewhere nice?”

  The Agent gestured down the street as though indicating a direction. “I think they're buying it, get in the cab.”

  She stopped hanging on the door window and staggered around to the back door. After a few failed attempts, deliberately missing the handle to delay their departure, she opened it.

  She sprawled in the back seat and then sat up. “Any problem so far?”

  “You're a very good actress. But we've got to move, something's happened,” he replied.

  “What?”

  He drove the taxi down the street at a slow pace and then picked up the speed. “One of them made a cell phone call and he didn't seem to like what he heard on the other end. He was yelling into the phone then they ran and jumped into a car. They're behind us.”

  “I wonder what happened. We need to follow them and we can’t if they’re behind us.”

  “I know, leave it to me.”

  He drove at a steady pace, sto
pping for every light. The following car seemed impatient and passed them. “It's a rental, I've keyed in the license plate and we won't lose it, the rental company has GPS.”

  He allowed the rental car to move further down the street away from the taxi.

  Kitty grew anxious. If she was going to be able to use her talent, she needed to be away from the sight of the FBI Agent. “You need to get closer. I want to tail them when they get out of the car.”

  “I don't know if I can do that, besides, they would spot you in that Goth get up,” he said.

  “Not a problem, Agent,” Kitty replied, “I came prepared. Just keep your eyes on the road and not in the back seat.”

  He laughed but kept his eyes forward.

  She took off the black jacket and reversed it to reveal a red lining. Next, she removed some shiny, skin-tight rose colored pants from her purse, kicked off the heels, and slipped the pants over her legs up to her waist. She unzipped the miniskirt and slid it down over hips, removing it from her legs. The black wig went next and she combed out her blond hair with her fingers. The false black fingernails went last, along with the black lipstick. Red lipstick completed the transformation “You can look now. How do I look?”

  He glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Damn! Are you sure you don't want to be an Agent?”

  She grinned. “Catch up with them. In fact, if you can pull along side them so I can snap a picture, it would be perfect. It looks like they're headed for the Strip.”

  “No need. I took several clear photos of them as they exited the club. Let's just see where they're going.”

  “Need! – If I'm going to follow them, we want to be close.”

  “I don't know...”

  “Trust me Agent, I'm good at this. The taxi won't be noticed. The Strip is littered with them.” He reluctantly increased his speed.

  “Faster! Act like a Vegas taxi driver,” Kitty said.

  Again increasing his speed, he weaved in and out of the congested Strip traffic. He brought them closer to the rental car, which traveled at a more sedate pace, apparently not wanting to call attention to the passengers or cause an accident.

  “This is close enough,” Kitty said. “Just don't lose them.”

  The Agent glanced in the rear view mirror. “Back seat driver. Relax, Miss Kitty, I know my job.” He decreased his speed and grinned.

  “Not you, too! I'm gonna kill your partner!”

  He laughed.

  “He's changing lanes,” Kitty said. She watched as the rental merged into the left-most lane on the boulevard.

  “I'm on it,” the agent said, but he didn't follow, he ran in the parallel lane. “I think I know where he's going. We tracked the ransom demand cell phone call to the vicinity of Las Vegas Boulevard and Flamingo, but that's as close as we got. He's probably going to one of the casinos on the East side of the Strip. We should be able to nail him down within thirty meters. I'm going to get ahead of him and take a left on Flamingo Road. If he's going to travel down Flamingo, we'll be ahead of him, if he takes a left prior to Flamingo, I'll come in the back way at Imperial Palace.”

  “Good plan.” Kitty watched the rental car as they passed it. The driver slowed and entered the left turn lane into The Imperial Palace. The oncoming traffic at this spot of the Strip was heavy and pedestrians crowded the sidewalk, blocking attempts to enter the resort. “He made a bad move there, she said, “he'll be there for a while. That's a tough left turn.”

  “Good. We'll take the back way.” The agent sped up and entered the left turn lane at Flamingo. He patiently waited for the light and then drove down Flamingo Road to the first left turn. At that point he drove aggressively, cutting off other drivers and disobeying traffic rules, to the back of the Imperial Palace. The resort was built over an access street that linked the Strip to Koval Lane, a street which ran parallel to Las Vegas Boulevard. It also provided entrance to the Imperial Palace parking garage and the front entrance of the casino. They arrived in time to wait for their quarry. The Agent turned off all of the taxi’s lights and parked between two of the columns that supported the hotel over their heads.

  “If they stop, let me out, and I'll follow them.”

  “I'll only agree to this, if you keep that cell phone linked to me. It's got a speed dial button that will connect to mine. You keep it on the whole time, and keep me informed of every move.”

  “What if they spot me?”

  “Pretend that you're talking to your boy friend. You could say something sexy.”

  “Humph! What’s your name just so I can file a sexual harassment suit?”

  He laughed. “Pell, Miss Kitty, Agent Pell, and if you think this is harassment, just wait until I get started.”

  “You know, Agent Pell, I may think you're cute, but you could still join Tweedle-dumb on my all-time shit-list.”

  He laughed again. “I'd consider it a place of honor, Miss Kitty.” She glared at him, but it just made him chuckle. “Hey! I think they're coming.”

  She spotted the rental car traveling down the access road. It slowed and turned right into the Imperial Palace parking garage and she watched as the car disappeared up the ramp. “I'm going to follow them, wait here.” She exited the taxi and turned the cell phone on. She pushed the speed dial key and strode toward the parking garage “Can you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear,” he replied.

  Finding the garage access stairs, she entered them. She paused and used her talent to switch.

  Using her talent meant she could block her pattern from the minds of nearby observers. It wasn't unlimited, however, in that the number of people she could control was those in the immediate vicinity. People further away could still see her so she had to be careful. Also, the sound of her spike heeled shoes would give away her position, so she’d left her shoes in the cab and had traded them for some soft dancer's practice shoes. They weren't good for rough wear, but they’d work in the parking garage and they were silent.

  She paused again at the first floor landing of the garage and scanned the floor, looking for the rental car. She didn't find it and stopped to listen.

  She heard the sound of squealing tires somewhere above her and ran up the stairs to the second floor. Exiting the floor, she saw the tail lights of a car head up the ramp again. Cursing under her breath, she reentered the stairwell and climbed to the third floor just in time to see the rental car enter one of the parking spaces.

  She trotted to a dark area of the garage and watched the car. Soon the lights went out and the two men emerged. They walked to the rear of the car, popped the trunk and leaned over to retrieve something. She couldn't see what it was, so she waited. She put the cell phone to her ear. “They're on the third floor,” she whispered into the phone. “They just parked.”

  “Acknowledged. Keep me in the loop,” Pell replied.

  She waited as they closed the trunk. She saw them put the objects that they’d removed over their heads and let them hang around their necks. She felt uneasy. What were they doing, she wondered?

  As they walked toward the vicinity of the elevator which stood beside the stairwell, the items around their necks grew more distinct. Oh damn, those might be infrared goggles. Paris had warned her about this vulnerability, but she had no idea as to whether the goggles were thermal imagers or not.

  Her suspicions were confirmed though; when the second man started scanning the garage with the camera she’d seen at the club. She knew he looked for Shadows.

  It’s time to switch back.

  There was no way to get back to the elevator or the stairwell, so she decided to attack the problem head-on.

  She walked out of the dark area of the garage directly towards them. While she walked, she talked on the cell phone. “Looks like they made me, Pell, keep your ear to the phone.”

  “Are you in any danger?” He asked.

  “No sweetheart. I'll be there soon. Keep the bed warm for me,” she said and laughed as she passed the kidnappers.

  Pell
laughed in her ear. “You say the sexiest things, darling.”

  He's toast, she thought.

  She kept walking away from the exit. Soon, she heard the sound of the elevator opening.

  She waited a few moments and looked back as the door closed. “They're on their way down in the elevator. Keep an eye out. They've got night vision goggles and a funny camera. They were using the camera at the strip-club to scan people.”

  “Why would they do that? I wonder what they were looking for?” Pell asked.

  She knew but instead she said, “No idea. Does it have anything to do with the FBI?”

  “Not us, at least I don’t think so –wait. They're coming out of the elevator,” Pell said.

  Kitty ran to the stairs and down them. “Where are they now?”

  “They're walking to the back of the hotel. They just turned into the dark area under the hotel where the support columns are. Shit, I lost them!”

  “I'm on my way.” She exited the stairs and ran toward the back of the hotel. She stopped just short of the area that was thick with the cylindrical columns. “Can you see them?” She asked.

  “No, and don't go back there. It's dark. Wait until they come out,” Pell said.

  Kitty moved back to the corner of the building and waited. “My cover’s blown. I don't think I'll be able to follow them any longer without being made.”

  “I know. I'm calling for backup. Just stay where you are,” he said.

  She waited, and soon a Las Vegas PD cruiser drove down the alley, stopping in front of the columns. The police officer exited the cruiser and checked around the columns with a flashlight.

  He walked back to the cab and conferred with Agent Pell.

  Pell beckoned to Kitty. She walked to the taxi and got in.

  “What's up?” She asked when she was settled in the back seat.

  “He says that they're not there. No one's there,” he replied

  “Are you sure you saw them go into the columns?”

  “Yes, and they didn't come out,” he replied, “They vanished.”

  “Well, at least we've got pictures and I can describe them. That's a plus.”