The Shadow's Code

by Miles Goodson

  Seventeen hours later Lindon, Seth, Anthony and Liam rolled into Bogata in a ‘96 Volkswagen Jetta. Only one headlight worked and the windscreen wipers were completely inoperable. The vehicle was dented on every panel and the paintwork had faded to a steel pastel blue color. The wheel arches had begun to rust and the engine ran rich and misfired every few miles but it sluggishly kept going. With such a ramshackle car the team blended in with the locals, no one gave them a second look as they drove through the city’s neighborhoods.

  Warren had been spotted on CCTV near the business district, which had several hotels nearby. At sunset they parked the car on a busy street and split up. Each one had several hotels to check. Everyone wore smart suits, which a local ‘tradesman’ had given them at a meeting point just outside of town. Each of them clipped an American embassy ID badge to the breast pocket of their suit. As they walked into each hotel they claimed to be looking for a citizen who had lost their passport and given the hotel as a contact point. When desk managers insisted he wasn’t there they left quietly remarking “He must have written the wrong hotel name, nothing to worry about.”

  After twenty minutes Liam had a breakthrough. “You’re sure this man is here?” Liam said to the woman at the front desk.

  “Yes, Mr Warren, I didn’t see him leave to go to the embassy today though and I’ve been on shift since 10am,” she replied.

  “He must have gone out on your break, anyway he told me room 43, is that correct?” Liam lied convincingly. The Columbian woman was young and asked far too many questions for Liam’s liking, but she was stunningly attractive so he didn’t mind being held up talking to her.

  “I’m not sure, I can check but can I see your ID again please?” she said.

  “Yes of course”. Instead of showing her an embassy ID Liam flipped out an ID card from his military days that he kept on him; it said USAF at the bottom.

  “Is this an air force ID?” the young lady asked, pursing her lips together as she stared at the card.

  “Yes, I’m US Air Force, currently on secondment to the US Embassy here. I’m hoping to make a permanent move to working with the embassy so I’m here for six months.” Liam lied with such an honest face and a smile, he was so relaxed he thought about asking for the woman’s phone number.

  “Ah I see, he’s room 64, shall I call him?” She gave the ID back as she answered.

  “No it’s fine, I said I will be here around now, he will be expecting me,” he said.

  “OK, up the elevator, fourth floor, take a right out the elevator and it’s twenty meters on your left,” she said, hand gesturing the left and right turns.

  “Thank you,” Liam smiled.

  He walked towards the elevator and grabbed a cell phone out of the inside pocket of his suit. Liam hit level three on the elevator and decided he would take the stairs from there.

  The rest of the team arrived in minutes and took up positions around the hotel. Liam stayed on level three, pretending to be busy on a business call in the hallway by the elevator. Lindon climbed the stairs to the third floor to join Liam. He decided he would take the elevator to the final floor and Liam would then take the stairs on the opposite side. That way Warren wouldn’t be able to sneak past them. Anthony held position in the alley behind the hotel. The alley was wide and a few staff members had parked their cars there. Anthony wasn’t a smoker but he held a lit cigarette to help blend in.

  Seth waited in front of the hotel in the beaten up Volkswagen. It was now dark and several streetlights weren’t working. He left the engine running which lightly shook the car as it struggled to stay ticking over. While Seth waited he looked over a few bits of paperwork under the poor interior light of the Jetta. He grabbed a pen and circled random bits of a document to give the impression he had stopped the car to check over some work from the office. No one noticed him, except Warren.

  Warren noticed every car that stopped and what the occupants were doing. The Volkswagen only caught his attention because he hadn’t seen it before. He wasn’t particularly worried. He had become unsure what he was really trying to spot. He knew that anyone that came after him would be unlikely to make themselves stand out. Warren returned to his desk; he would have a look again in a few minutes and see if the Volkswagen moved on.

  Casper Waldridge was eating dinner when he was disturbed by a phone call.

  His wife answered and the caller demanded to speak to Casper immediately. He clamped the phone to his ear and said he was half way through enjoying his wife’s ‘fantastic cooked dinner’ loud enough for her to hear in the kitchen. She smiled to herself, thirty years of marriage and he’s still trying to pepper me with compliments, she thought.

  “Sir, we are about to send you an update.”

  “The deadline isn’t for another three and half hours,” Casper announced without masking his annoyance at being disturbed.

  “We have him surrounded, sir, we are about to move, I have sent you a short update via Secure-net, I will send a more detailed report once we have confirmation of the pick up,” said the voice on the phone.

  “OK, please send a confirmation message as soon as he’s secured,” Casper said. The line went dead.

  Casper left the table and printed out the update. He returned to the table to finish his dinner. His wife looked at him as he read the single sheet of paper. Casper focused on the words in front of him. He didn’t notice his wife’s hints that the ‘excellent meal’ was going cold while he stared at the papers.

  Warren returned to the window.

  The Volkswagen was still parked with its engine running and lights on. There was a male in the car who was staring at a particular document. Warren’s suspicion grew but he had witnessed similar occurrences over the last few days. Husbands that hid bills from their wives or hid letters from mistresses would pull up in the business district and read them before throwing them in the street bins.

  Warren began to feel hungry and checked the time. It was a little earlier than he usually ordered dinner but he had little else to occupy his time. He dialed the front desk.

  “Hi, do you speak English?” he asked immediately.

  “Hello Mr Warren, yes we spoke earlier,” a young woman replied in a noticeable accent.

  “Ah…good. A burger and fries with a bottle of coke and a bottle of water, please,” he ordered.

  “Yes, would you like the Columbia sauce or the Texas sauce?” she asked.

  “Neither,” he replied.

  “OK, Mr Warren, do you want us to re-stock your minibar tomorrow?” she asked.

  “No, it’s fine thank you,” he replied.

  “OK, will that be all or would you like to order anything for your guest?” she asked.

  “My guest? I don’t understand,” Warren snapped, a cold sweat beginning on the back of his neck. His mouth went dry and anxiety hit him hard, paralysing him to the spot.

  “Yes, the gentleman from the embassy,” she answered.

  Warren hesitated, seconds were now precious. It was the men who were chasing him, the Volkswagen fired to the front of his mind. His breathing became rapid, and the realization that he’d been found made his hands shake like a leaf in the wind.

  He needed to run. He jumped up from the bed, grabbing his jacket with the gun holstered and ran to the door. Warren yanked the door open; he darted a footstep to the left but didn’t make the second step. As the door opened he glimpsed an object swing from his right hand side towards his head. He hit the floor unconscious.

  Lindon and Liam were waiting outside the bedroom door when Warren darted out.

  It had solved the debate they were having about how to subdue him. Instinctively Lindon whipped him with the butt of his pistol, looked down and compared his face to the picture he had. It was Warren Jackson. He was unconscious but breathing steadily.

  “Finally,” he said, after weeks of trekking and chasing around South America he had his target. Now he just needed to extract him along with the team and he could relax. No more ju
ngle, no more foreign food that didn’t agree with him, no more bugs. He couldn’t hide his smile as he and Liam grabbed Warren and between them carried him towards the stairs. They headed for the rear exit where Anthony was waiting. He signaled Seth who drove to the rear exit.

  Upon hearing the phone drop the front desk clerk had become worried.

  After a few moments of indecision she decided to leave the front desk unmanned and check on Warren. She called Warren’s room number several times before she left the desk; there was no answer. As she tried to remember what the man from the embassy looked like she accidentally tapped five instead of four in the lift. She didn’t realize her mistake until the doors opened with a ‘ping’. She wanted to call security but the hotel didn’t have a guard for eight hours every night; a way of cutting costs.

  She finally arrived at Warren’s room and knocked. No answer. She let herself in; no one was there, no bag, nothing. The CCTV camera at the front desk was a dummy; management didn’t want to pay for a full circuit. As she arrived back at the front desk she grabbed the phone to call the manager. She looked out of the front window as the phone rang and noticed a beat up old Volkswagen speed away from the side alley. Warren was gone.

  Chapter 4

  Casper Waldridge stood humming to himself in the elevator ascending to the 62nd floor of the Sagaris building.

  It was 7.40am and sunny outside. The elevator door slid open to a long hallway. ‘Dino Logging Brothers Co.’ was printed in bold text in the middle of both walls. The only feature of the hallway was a door at the end of it. A key card was needed to enter and a camera looked down scrutinizing every move you made. Casper opened the door to the wide entrance area and was greeted warmly by the secretary in the foyer. A guard stood bulging out of his suit in the corner behind a monitor. He had recognized Casper as soon as he exited the lift. The guard knew every face that worked on 62. If he didn’t recognize you when you exited the lift you were in trouble.

  Casper walked directly to the office at the further end of the floor.

  Seven people were around the conference table including Jim Loaking, Alex Watland, Kirt Soloman and Peter Van Tomulsson. Jim looked especially dishevelled; a stain on his left shirt pocket was a reminder of last night’s dinner. Alex and Kirt didn’t look much better but Peter looked in good shape as he enjoyed a breakfast bagel.

  “Good morning, Casper, did you read through the brief I sent you this morning?” Jim asked.

  “Oh yes. So we have him?” Casper said.

  “The team just landed in Delaware on the flight chartered by the client who has already confirmed we have the correct man,” Jim replied.

  “OK, excellent. Peter, what brings you in so early? We have a meeting at 9, yes?” Casper asked without looking for an answer but got one anyway.

  “Yeah, these guys asked me to come in early to confirm payment from the client before the target had been handed over at the rendezvous.” Peter stood and wiped crumbs off his lap as he spoke directly to Casper.

  “Ah I see, all OK?” Casper asked.

  “Payment was already transferred when I got here. They’ve worked with us for a long time and don’t like to be held up confirming payments at rendezvous, so they always pay a few hours before time. I think it hit our account at three thirty this morning.” Peter picked his teeth as he spoke. Casper raised his eyebrows.

  “We allow twenty-four hours after handover for full payment, don’t we?” Casper said.

  “We do for fees below $250,000. This fee was higher but even so the client prefers to pay early. We’ve only ever had one issue on handover, and in that case I immediately refunded them. They’re too good of a client to mess around plus they know we’re not scrapping to pay the bills like a few firms,” Peter said as he folded his arms.

  “Yes, very true. OK, well this one’s wrapped up then. Peter, can you arrange payment of the freelance we’ve had working on his one and tell accounts to add the relevant bonuses to our three guys in this month’s pay run,” Casper instructed.

  “No problem, I’ll have it done before I see you next,” Peter said as he got up to leave. “See you at 9,” Peter added as he walked out of the office.

  Casper raised his hand while staring at all the paperwork on the desk. A few people packed up laptops. Most had been at work all night and all of the previous day. It was Thursday so they would all get a long weekend as a thank you for their hard work.

  “There may be a further job with Gold 714,” Kirt said in no particular direction. Everyone began packing their things up quicker so as not to get caught in any more work.

  “Details?” asked Jim.

  “They were rather vague, but insisted on the same team. They said that feedback from the ground agents was that this was the best team they had worked with,” Kirt said, trying to sound proud when really he was only worried about another successful job to pad his next bonus.

  “Well…that shouldn’t be a problem, keep us updated Kirt,” Casper said as he moved towards the door. Everyone nodded in agreement and proceeded to pick up their things and go home for a well-deserved long weekend away from the office.

  Warren sat in the metal foldaway chair quietly.

  He was being held in an interrogation room with one-way glass on one of the walls. The room made him feel guilty, even though he had nothing to fear. When he was captured and regained consciousness the thoughts of who it could be ran through his head. He hoped it was the men who had been hired to find him. Warren had woken up in an old car whilst still in Columbia surrounded by four men. He noticed the car strain under the stress of carrying five adult men and he hoped it wouldn’t break down. His mind wondered to the horrors of what could be awaiting him, but now he was sat here in a clean white interrogation room on what he was assuming was US soil.

  The door opened and he took a deep breath. Sergeant Major Thomas Bullmen walked through the door alone. He was middle aged, medium build and had the sharpest ironing creases in a pant leg that Warren had ever seen. He was originally from Mississippi and retained the regional accent. Thomas’s hair was cut almost to the grain on the back and side with a just enough length on top to see the grey starting to show. His boots, as to be expected, were spotless.

  “OK Mr Jackson, it’s Warren, right? I’m just going to call you Warren,” he said. Warren nodded. “OK, just a few simple questions. Are you injured in any way?” Thomas spoke broadly as he dropped a file on the desk and pulled a chair back to sit down.

  “I think I have a bump on my head, apart from that I’m fine.” Warren sipped a glass of water.

  “OK, did your identity get compromised at any time?” Thomas asked.

  “No, I traveled on the passport I had been supplied with, no problems,” he replied.

  “Good, did anyone on the team that captured you give any clear signs that they knew you?” Thomas asked. He scribbled down the answers in his file.

  “No, although I was passed out for several hours, but when I came around no one seemed to know me,” Warren answered and folded his arms.

  “OK, well that’s all the preliminary questions. James and Bill will be in to see you soon, anything you want to add to my preliminary report?” Thomas asked as he stood up. Warren shook his head and finished his glass of water.

  Bill Stanfield was a Two Star General in the American Army.

  He was a highly decorated military officer and in his younger days he had broken several army records. The last seven years were all spent behind a desk and so he had piled on the pounds, mainly on his portly belly. Bill walked with a deliberate step that he used to show his authority. It rarely had the desired effect and instead he looked as though he was cramped or nursing a knee injury.

  James Stanfield was a CIA agent. His rank was unclassified, meaning it was substantial; he was ten years younger than Bill and unlike the Two Star General had all his hair. James had a good build for a man entering his forties and hadn’t allowed himself to let office life slow him down.

  B
ill stood by a chair and looked around the room. There wasn’t much to see. The only highlight of the room was the table and chairs. James sat down immediately and looked at Warren.

  Bill greeted Warren with a handshake and nod; James smiled. Bill cleared his throat.

  “So, did you see him?” James asked. Bill sat down and poured water out of a jug on the table for himself and James. The room was silent for a moment.

  Warren nodded. “Yes, it was him, 100%.”

  Bill scratched his nose. “Was it him that gave you that shiner on your forehead?” he said. All three men smiled, the mood was relaxed.

  Warren rubbed his finger across his bottom lip. “Yep, that was him, thankfully that was all I got. Now that I’ve run around the whole of South America can I know what’s going on?” he asked.

  Bill was Warren’s superior and so the two of them knew each other well but Warren had only met James twice before.

  “Yeah, you’ve earned it, go for it, James,” Bill nudged his elbow into James.

  “You remember your good friend Professor Ebton? Well his final program, the one you helped him build, the CIA has made the decision that it needs shutting down. It’s achieved everything we need and so it’s time to wrap it up and move on to a new phase of the program,” James said, gesturing with his left hand.

  “Oh…” Warren responded. “Why don’t you just call them in?” he asked.

  Bill decided to jump in before James could answer. “Let’s not talk about this here, Warren. Let’s go back to my office where we can talk about this a bit more… freely.” Warren looked at the large mirrored glass on the wall behind Bill.