Betrayal j-2

by Russell Blake

  “I have your daughter. I have no fight with you. But I have an operation I have had nothing but trouble with, and nobody on my team seems to be able to solve my problem. But you? You could solve it, with your illustrious background.”

  “You kidnapped my daughter and took me captive to get me to do a job for you? You’re insane. That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

  “I do, indeed. I’ve been doing this for far longer than you’ve been alive. Trust me when I tell you that if there were any alternative, I would have let you go your merry way with your daughter, and that would have been the end of it. But extraordinary problems require extraordinary solutions, and I have need of your skills. So I have had to take an…unconventional approach. I hope you’ll forgive me.” Arthur executed the hint of a bow, and she could see that his hair was white and that the scar tissue ran across his entire head.

  “If you hurt her…”

  “I am not an animal. I have no desire to harm your daughter. If these were normal circumstances, I would have removed myself from the entire affair once David died. Yes, I know all about the fire on the Russian’s boat. After considering the plans he had asked for, I guessed that his target was the yacht, and from there it was a simple matter to work out what had happened. He went dark after that night, so I suspected the worst. And then when Grigenko’s jet vaporized…well, let’s just say I surmised that you survived. Which created an interesting opportunity for me.”

  “How did you know I would come for my daughter?”

  “I didn’t. It was a calculated risk. But I realized that if he had revealed his scheme to you, it would be impossible for you to stay away — so I was willing to devote a few resources in the event that you surfaced.”

  “Surface. I see. And how did you track me to the hotel?”

  “I had a team across the street from the house, and when they saw a strange car pull up on the street and watched you slip into the house next door, they put a tracker on the car. It wasn’t hard to guess what was happening.” He paused, sucking in a breath with a hiss, his tongue slurping wetly as he blotted the corner of the raw gash that comprised his mouth with a handkerchief. “And so, here we are. The two of us. I, with a proposition for you. And you, in a position to pay very close attention to it, and I would hope, predisposed to accept my proposal.”

  “Go to hell. I’ll kill you with my bare hands. You’ll never be safe.”

  “Perhaps. But you’re the one who is tied up at the moment, if I’m not mistaken. So save the idle threats for later. I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, and I know that my actions are reprehensible. Let’s just agree that you probably hate me right now, and justifiably so, might I add. That emotion is a luxury you can indulge to your heart’s content later. For now, if I were you, I’d be more interested in what I needed to do to get my daughter back so I could get on with my life than in threatening me or vowing revenge.”

  She glared at him and said nothing.

  “I have a problem. You are the solution. Solve my problem and I let you reunite with your daughter and I step forever out of your life. You’re free to do whatever you like, and I’ll take the secret of your existence to my grave. Consider it the price of my assistance to you and David in the Grigenko matter.”

  “Solve your problem,” Jet repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “Do I need to ask what the problem is?”

  The eerily smooth skin of his face pulled taut in a grimace that could have been a model for a Munch painting. He was smiling.

  “Why, my dear, I think it’s obvious. I need you to kill someone.”

  Chapter 5

  Arthur nodded at the guard outside to shut the door and then walked slowly to the foot of the steel bed she was tied to and looked her over.

  “That’s it? You want me to kill someone? For that you need to take my daughter and blackmail me?” Jet demanded.

  “I think you would find this more palatable if you regarded it as payback for all of the help I arranged for David on his Russian issue. And as for your daughter, if you accept that I’m taking good care of her while you’re otherwise occupied with this errand, it will be easier for both of us. Again, there’s nothing I want more than for you to have, er, Hannah back. I can only imagine how awful it must be to have finally found her, only to have her torn away from you.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t get all weepy at your sentiment.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  “So why does the CIA need me to perform a sanction for it? You have people who can take care of that sort of thing — being the best funded and largest intelligence service in the history of the world, and all.”

  “This is a delicate matter. We have already tried to attend to it in-house, but haven’t been successful. When you showed up looking for your daughter, it created an opportunity. You specialize in a kind of work that’s a dying art, I’m afraid. Ever since the Wall came down and Russia stopped being the great Satan, our skills and resources have diminished. Sure, the Chinese present a clear and present danger, and the odd foray into the Middle East has kept us in practice, but nothing to hold a candle to your achievements. You could say I’m somewhat of a fan.”

  “How could you possibly know about my missions with the Mossad?”

  “That’s one of the questions I won’t be able to answer. Suffice it to say, I know what nobody is supposed to, and frankly, your resume is as impressive as hell. I’ve been a player for forty years, and I’ve never encountered such attributes. It’s truly remarkable. If you were a gymnast or a ballerina, you’d have a cabinet full of gold medals. Alas, it’s a rarified talent, but one that I completely appreciate.”

  “Spare me.”

  Arthur rubbed his ruined face. “Let me tell you a story. It’s one that I’ve never told another living person.”

  “Meaning all the others are dead…”

  “Yes. But no matter. It’s a fascinating one. It involves greed, corruption, deception, and betrayal.”

  “Don’t they all?”

  “Hmm. Three months ago, I was in charge of conducting a transaction in Asia. In its essence, it was a simple matter. The CIA arranged to fund certain factions with interests aligned with our own, whose cooperation was deemed vital. Are you familiar with Myanmar?”

  “Burma. Military dictatorship. Rogue nation. What’s to know?”

  “Then you’re probably aware that it is not considered friendly by my government. Let’s just say that if you’re an enemy of my enemy, you are my friend, for the moment.”

  “That didn’t work out so well for Saddam Hussein, did it?”

  “I don’t make the rules. Anyway, there was a group in Myanmar that we felt were deserving of our support. But not the sort that you can go to Congress to sign off on. More discreet. To cut a long story short, one of our top agents in the region was chartered with handling the transaction. Fifty million dollars in diamonds. Untraceable. All of them easily convertible to cash. It was a simple arrangement. He was to go in, give our friends the diamonds, and then report back. But apparently, he had different ideas. The money was too large, or maybe he had just been in-country too long. He took delivery of the diamonds, but our friends never received them. And then we learned that they had been butchered in a gun battle. So it would appear that our man decided to retire and give himself a better than customary pension. Fifty million in diamonds’ worth.”

  “So he stole your diamonds. But, come on. Fifty million is a drop in the bucket. Didn’t I read that your defense department can’t account for something like ten trillion dollars? Fifty million is beer money — a rounding error. There are Wall Street moguls who stole twenty times that much who are still walking around New York, who never even got charged.”

  “True, but the point is that we can’t have our operatives stealing company property. Sends the wrong message, I think you’ll agree.”

  “And why is it that you haven’t been able to deal with this yourself?”

>   “To be frank, we tried on two separate occasions. Both ended disastrously. This man has decades of experience in the region and is as comfortable there as a native. He’s disappeared into the jungle, where he’s living like a tribal chieftain. It’s proved difficult to even establish where he is on any given day. Add to that, the wrinkle that the Myanmar government is actively hostile to us, and it’s a recipe for disaster.”

  “What happened to the last two teams that tried to take him out? What went wrong?”

  “Unknown. The first operative was found in Northern Thailand. The indigenous animals had feasted on him, so there wasn’t a lot left to process. Our last attempt, two men, disappeared without a trace. We’ve had no word from them for over a week. They had a sat phone that would work anywhere in the world, so it’s safe to say they’re off the table. Which brings us to you.”

  “I might be more receptive to this if I wasn’t strapped in some prison cell.”

  “I need you to fully understand the gravity of the situation, and not try to harm anyone here if we untie you.”

  “At some point you’ll need to release me.”

  “I think I’ll feel better about that once you’ve had a day to think this through. For the moment, I don’t believe you won’t immediately try to rip my throat out. And I’ve grown rather fond of it in my dotage.”

  She glared at him. He had so far read her correctly.

  “What I propose is that you take on this assignment. In return, upon its successful completion, I will give you half a million dollars — which will go a long way towards paying for your daughter’s education and whatnot. You are free to choose any method you like to terminate the target, but with one caveat. I want the diamonds back. We haven’t seen a flood on the market, so he still has them. Get me the diamonds and bring me his head, and you’ll have your freedom as well as a handsome reward. That’s the deal.”

  “Wow. A one percent finder’s fee. That’s very generous.”

  Arthur cocked a particularly ugly patch of scar tissue that used to be an eyebrow.

  “Ah. Well, at least now we have a negotiation. Fine. I’ll up the offer to two percent of anything you bring back. Up to a million dollars.”

  “And these straps? I’ll have to go to the bathroom sooner or later.”

  “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  He turned to leave. “Think this over. When I return, I will expect an answer, which will be a binding commitment.”

  “So help me, if you harm a hair on Hannah’s head-”

  “See? Still with the threats. Look. I just offered you a million dollars to do what you’ve done for almost free for the Mossad for years. I’ll look after your daughter like she was my own while you’re gone. You’ll never have to worry about anything again once this is over. I strongly suggest you consider this carefully. You’re not going to get a better deal. Ever.”

  With that, Arthur spun on his heel and knocked on the door. One of the men outside opened it, and then he was gone. She heard the bolt slide back into place, and then the footsteps moved down the hall to wherever they’d come from, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

  For all his experience, Arthur had made a mistake. Two, actually. The first was that he had tipped his hand. He needed her. That gave her power over him. The second was more subtle. He’d left the light on, which gave her the ability to see. That might not have seemed like a huge advantage, but it was enough.

  She set to work on maneuvering her left arm, a millimeter at a time, up towards her shoulder as she exhaled, decreasing the expansion of her ribcage to the extent possible. The skin tore against the sharp edge of the strap, but she ignored it, forced even more air out of her lungs, and pulled.

  ~ ~ ~

  Arthur stood in the deserted lobby of what had once been a mental institution in rural Virginia, long since abandoned and condemned for demolition. As the state fought with the federal government over the property and the ultimate use of the land, it sat empty, chain-link fence with razor wire ringing it, keeping looters and vandals out, and presenting the agency with one of several facilities where it could detain sensitive subjects in complete privacy.

  Three men stood out of earshot, murmuring among themselves. All wore suits and had weapons in shoulder holsters.

  He took a few more steps towards the main entrance, a glass and iron affair with two oversized doors that were scarred from decades of grim traffic entering a facility few ever left unless in a body bag. Plywood had been mounted across both glass panels to prevent breakage, and an armed guard patrolled the grounds day and night. The locals had considered the woods around it a damned place for generations, so it was natural that the facility no community wanted anywhere near it would wind up there. Built as part of Roosevelt’s New Deal construction boom in the 1930s it had been shut down in 2001, the last of the patients transferred to modern hospitals, where they could get more compassionate care. Its history was one marked by questionable treatments and controversial approaches, and it had gained a certain professional notoriety in the Forties and Fifties following a propensity for performing lobotomies on a far greater percentage of its population than anywhere else in the country — fully double the national average.

  A pool of rank rainwater glazed the uneven tiled floor of the foyer, and a furry form scurried into a corner as he approached. The place was perfectly suited for this sort of detainment. That it had a certain medieval quality was icing on the cake. He wanted those he was ‘negotiating’ with to hate and fear it, and want to be anywhere else in the world. As he was sure the woman named Jet wanted to be free of her grim imprisonment.

  He flipped open his cell phone and placed a call, staring off into the near distance as he waited for it to answer.

  “We have her. I gave her the ultimatum. I expect an affirmative response within the next twenty-four hours,” he said quietly.

  “Then what?”

  “Then our friend gets his comeuppance.”

  “Why are you so confident in her when your best men couldn’t make it happen?”

  “She’s…different. Hard to explain it. If anyone can pull this off, it will be her. That, and we’re sort of out of options, aren’t we?” Arthur observed.

  “There’s that.”

  “Which, I thought I would mention…we aren’t having much success with the new group that took over since he killed the old one. Apparently they feel that there’s substantially more risk associated with dealing with us than there was before. So the cost is considerably higher. Which makes it far less interesting for us.”

  “I understand. Perhaps they will see reason once we have rid the jungles of the white devil.”

  “That’s our hope. Right now they’re talking to others, and you know as well as I do, that if anyone else does a deal it will disrupt everything we’ve built. That cannot be allowed to happen,” Arthur underscored.

  “We are in agreement. It can’t. You really think she can do this?”

  “I’ve never met anyone I am more sure about. You know her history.”

  “The jungle is a different environment than the desert.”

  “True enough. But she’s got ten times more experience than our next option. Honestly, she’s scary to be in the same room with. And you know I don’t scare.”

  “Very well. Do whatever it takes, but make it happen. We’re running out of time.”

  “I know.”

  Chapter 6

  The sound of a banshee wailing reverberated off the asylum walls and brought the guards at a run. The shrieking was horrifying, pure terror, ending with a yowl of pain and then silence.

  “Move. Come on. But remember what we’re dealing with. She’s extremely dangerous,” Fred reminded his men.

  All three gripped stun guns. They were not to use deadly force if it could be helped. The orders were clear.

  “What do you think happened?” Jim asked.

  Fred rubbed his nose and sniffed. “Could be rats. I never thought it was a good idea to leav
e her down here unguarded. Some of them are the size of minivans. If a bunch of them got to her…it could be ugly.”

  “Or it could be some kind of a trick.”

  “She’s lashed to the bed. You helped me do it. Nobody could get out of that. Especially not after getting shot full of rhino tranquilizer.”

  Fred beamed his flashlight on the rusting steel door. The area was completely quiet other than their breathing. Whatever had caused the commotion was over. The single industrial fluorescent lamp in the hallway flickered, its glow inadequate to provide more than slim illumination to the windowless space. The other four lamps had long ago stopped working, lending the area the feeling of a dungeon.

  “Jim, you slide the bolt open. Carl, you go in first. I’ll follow,” he whispered.

  The two subordinates nodded and tensed in preparation.

  The bolt slid open with a thunk, and then Jim, who’d jerked it free, pushed the door wide, the bottom scraping on the uneven broken tile before slamming against the interior wall.

  The room was dark. They could just make out the shape of the ancient bed, but it was indistinct. Carl, in the lead, reached to his side and felt for the tripod lamp. He found the stand and groped up to the control at the top and flipped the switch, but nothing happened.

  Annoyed, he pointed his flashlight at the bed. The beam played across the empty surface just as a bolt of yellow swung across his field of vision and a hard metallic rectangle slammed into his head with the force of a hammer blow. Warm blood streamed freely from a gash in his forehead, and he cried out as he dropped the light. The room swirled in blackness, and he lost consciousness, sinking to the floor with a groan.

  A short length of metal smacked into Fred’s skull, and he went down like a bag of rocks, landing heavily at Carl’s inert feet. Jim stood frozen just outside the door, staring dumbstruck into the room’s inky depth, trying to process what was happening. Jet swung down from the ceiling, gripping an overhead pipe like a gymnast and propelled herself into his chest with both legs, her feet striking him with startling momentum. His stun gun clattered harmlessly by his side as he collapsed onto the cold cement floor, his ribs shattered. She watched him as he struggled for breath, then she reached down and pulled his pistol loose from his shoulder holster, pausing to inspect the Colt 1911.45 caliber semi-automatic before tucking it into the waist of her jeans.