The Shadow's Code

by Miles Goodson

  “Yep, tonight. 8pm, he’s going to send two of his men from the secret service to pick up Warren and, with the men currently watching him he will be escorted to the White House. The president has said we should go by helicopter. I’m going to arrange it now. Can we meet here again at say… 3pm?”

  There were nods from both James and Bill but no words. James was excited, he could save his brilliant news of securing Lindon on a job that would result in his peaceful capture for when he was sat in front of the president. James’s mind wandered to how he would best deliver the news. Don’t look too smug and make sure you look concerned, he thought. Bill was also busy in thought. How would he make it to Macy’s and find a nice pair of wing tips and be back by 3pm? His wife wouldn’t be happy as he promised he wouldn’t leave her to buy his shoes again. He began to feel deflated about his trip to the Big Apple.

  Chapter 17

  “Did you notice that guy in the corner?” Lindon leaned over to ask Rena whilst staring at a portly man in a suit.

  Rena leaned to get a better look. They were sat at a table in a west London restaurant. Lindon was dressed in a dark navy suit without a tie and pair of black leather shoes. Rena was dressed for the rainy London weather in a dark winter coat with black jeans and boots.

  “I wouldn’t worry about him,” Rena replied as she moved her fork around her salad.

  “Any reason?” Lindon whispered.

  “He’s security for that man sat at the table in front of him,” Rena replied.

  “How do you know?”

  Rena sipped from her glass and looked directly at Lindon. Her emerald green eyes sparkled in the light. Lindon looked down at her wine glass, which had been imprinted with her dark rouge lipstick.

  “He’s been looking at us with the same suspicion for the last twenty minutes. Look at the breast pocket of his shirt and you can see an ID. C’mon Lindon, this is rookie stuff,” Rena smiled. Lindon’s usual calm demeanor was disturbed. Rena couldn’t work out why. Lindon looked over to the man and spotted the ID.

  “Yeah I see it. A headache kept me up all night. I’m just a little tired. Sorry.” Lindon turned and signaled a waiter who leapt into action. “Double espresso, please. The strongest you’ve got.”

  “Certainly sir. Anything for the lady?” the waiter looked toward Rena.

  “No thank you,” she answered, eager to get rid of the waiter who was blocking her view of the prince.

  The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Lindon sat staring out of the window. Rena drove making sure no one pushed in between her and the prince’s Bentley, which was a real challenge against some of London’s black cab drivers. The rain started to fall in a haze as they stopped at traffic lights. Lindon stared at the third brake light of the Bentley. His gaze was broken by the crackle of his radio.

  “The prince would like to stop in Chelsea on the way home,” the driver said.

  Lindon looked into the rear screen for a signal by the prince. There was a strict instruction that the route would not be deviated from. For him to confirm he wanted to go somewhere unplanned he would raise his left hand up for few seconds. This was to signal that he was aware of the change of route.

  “OK, we will follow, how long is this likely to put us behind schedule?” Lindon looked at his printout of the schedule as he spoke.

  “About an hour and 20 minutes,” replied the driver. Lindon flipped through the timesheet and noticed that the evening he had been designated as having a quiet night at home.

  “Will it affect the schedule?” Rena asked.

  “No, we should be fine. He was going home.” Rena pulled off from the lights and took the first left following the Bentley.

  Twenty minutes later they stopped outside an apartment tower. The prince’s friend lived on the top floor. Rena and Lindon followed the prince and waited outside the apartment door. He advised he would be ten minutes. If he took any longer they should go in looking for him. The man who had answered the door was a Londoner, white, middle aged and wearing a tracksuit. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that whatever the man dealt in was not legal. The prince was known for his eccentricities, women and drugs. Lindon suspected this man provided the latter.

  The prince walked out of the apartment after seven minutes. Lindon and Rena had both set timers on their watches. He didn’t appear to act any differently when he walked out and so Lindon suspected whatever he had purchased was being saved for later. The prince told Lindon and Rena on the way out that he had invited several ‘friends’ to his house tonight. All would be staying the night with him and all were female. Lindon and Rena were to check them as they came in to the apartment but not interfere otherwise. They would both need stay in the living area all night and make sure that the ‘friends’ were checked again on their way out.

  It was a strange way to treat friends, but both Lindon and Rena knew better. They were prostitutes and most likely at the priciest end of the market. The women would know the procedure. Frisked on entry and exit of their client’s home. Lindon and Rena expected very little trouble. Most charged ten thousand pounds a night as a minimum and so had little incentive to steal. The threat was more what they would bring to the apartment. Assassinations by women posing as prostitutes were becoming more common and so Rena would have the task of strip-searching the women.

  The Bentley pulled up in front of the prince’s home at 4.45pm. Dinner would be cooked by the home chef at 6.30pm. The prince planned to bathe and make some phone calls in the meantime. The driver pulled off to valet the car and would return the next morning at 8am for his duties. The prince insisted the car be cleaned once a day. Lindon and Rena parked the Mercedes G-wagon outside the prince’s home and discussed the plan for the evening. Rena offered to take the first watch, which was between 10pm and midnight. She would then power nap for two hours whilst Lindon stayed on watch. They would swap two-hour shifts until 6am.

  The work was boring but easy and apart from the disruption to their sleep it was light work for Lindon and Rena. After two days they were adjusting to the slow rhythm of being bodyguards for a man that didn’t do anything exceptional. Lindon looked forward to his nap.

  James couldn’t get the thought of Lt Felix out of his mind. There must be a way to extract that man’s knowledge. He knew so many answers, how could no one else know anything? As soon as he could James would start digging for information. There must be a family member, an old colleague, a nurse; there just had to be someone that Lt Felix had spoken to before losing his mind. Someone out there must know why the Emperor’s gardens hadn’t been restored to a place of tranquil beauty rather than holding a decaying nuclear weapon. America wasn’t at war anymore.

  At 3.05pm Bill was waddling as fast as he could whilst clutching his Macy’s bag. Car horns honked around him as he darted between the Manhattan traffic. He could see a black Chevrolet Suburban waiting outside the tower block. Stood at the back of the vehicle was James smoking a cigarette, which was strange. Bill knew James wasn’t a smoker. Both men spotted each other.

  “I didn’t know you smoked,” Bill said, gasping for air.

  “I don’t, and you’re late,” James replied, puffing his last breath of smoke and stamping on the butt of his cigarette. Bill didn’t respond and looked at the car.

  “Roger’s up front and we’re in the back.” James walked over to the rear passenger door as he spoke. Bill jumped in the car and placed his Macy’s bag on the floor.

  “I see you managed to get your shoes then,” James said in a voice loud enough for Roger to hear. A man in a black suit and shades was in the driver’s seat. He set off as soon as they were all in.

  “Err yeah,” Bill answered with slight embarrassment in his voice. “The sales lady took a little longer than I expected and the lines were long. I thought I would still make it back in time.” James smirked and Bill’s face went red. He was about to meet the president of the United States and he was running late. After rushing so much he had missed lunch and was now feeling hungry.<
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  “Any chance we’re going to stop and pick up some food?” he said. Roger was not impressed.

  “We’re on our way to the Oval Office…five minutes late thanks to you and you want to stop for food! No. The helicopter will land at 7.45pm and not a moment later. We will have fifteen minutes to hustle our butts over to the Oval Office.” Roger turned to the driver. “Step on it!”

  Bill felt chastised in the back seat. He was a Two Star General and no one spoke to him like that. He looked at his shoes. At least his wife would be happy. He had got the exact shoes she had told him to buy. The blue and red lights on the SUV lit up as the driver put his foot down. It would take at least twenty minutes to drive to the helipad.

  Bill’s stomach was in a constant state of shock by 6pm. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone over eight hours without eating. It certainly hadn’t been since he was put behind a desk ten years ago. His stomach rumbled so loudly that James could hear it sat next to him despite the noise from the rotors of the helicopter.

  “Guys, can we not get a sandwich delivered? Just something we can eat before the meeting.” Bill sounded as desperate as he felt.

  “You want me to order take-out food to the White House. Oh yeah, tell ya what, let’s call a pizza place. Get the guy to drive right up the front lawn and deliver it to the helipad.” Roger didn’t try to mask his sarcasm. James was now also beginning to feel hungry and his nerves were putting him on edge. The idea about meeting the president had driven his body into overdrive and it was starting to need a refill.

  “C’mon Roger. Bill’s starving. Why don’t we stop by the caterers? I’m sure they will have something lying around.” James tried to look genuinely concerned about Bill. Roger grumbled to himself for a moment.

  “OK fine, but five minutes maximum,” Roger snarled at Bill.

  “Twenty minutes until we’re on the ground!” the pilot barked.

  “Say again, was that twenty minutes, captain?” Roger asked. The communication system was good but it did crackle more for some headphones than others. Bill had heard twenty minutes clearly.

  “Yeah. Twenty. Two Zero, until landing.” The pilot looked to his second in command and smirked as he spoke. They were both keen to get the three men offloaded. They had a tight schedule and were set to take off at 7pm with air force personnel on their final flight of the day.

  The landing was smooth. Bill leapt out of the helicopter the moment the door slid open. He quickly turned to grab his Macy’s bag. James and Bill followed Roger’s lead into the lower floor. Security passes were checked. Roger had a permanent pass. James and Bill had been given a pass with ‘GUEST’ stamped across the top when they boarded the helicopter.

  “Teresa. How are you my darling?” Roger sweet-talked the chef the moment he entered the kitchen.

  “What do you want, Roger” she smiled. Usually Roger was relaying an order from the president but his extra charm suggested that this was not the case.

  “I don’t suppose you would have a few odd bits lying around for my guests here. One forgot lunch and the other appears to have the munchies. Probably nervous about seeing the president.” Roger looked back at James who tried to find anything else he could focus his attention on that wasn’t Roger.

  “Well it’s your boys’ lucky day. A catered meeting has just finished and it looks like they didn’t think much of my lunch buffet. It’s in the corner over there. It’s all getting thrown out so take what you like.” Teresa turned to a counter and continued to chop vegetables. “Go on. Help yourself,” she said, still looking at the vegetables on the counter.

  Bill didn’t need to be told again and nearly barged both Roger and James out of the way. The lunch service had been traditional southern food. Pork ribs glazed in sauce and hot wings sat in metal troughs. Bill couldn’t believe his luck and was taking his second pork rib before James had even reached the table.

  “OK five minutes. Then we’ve gotta hustle upstairs,” Roger ordered as both men stuffed everything they could in their mouths. Bill didn’t even attempt subtlety; James at least picked up a plate.

  Warren was sat fifteen feet from the Oval Office. His nerves were fraught. He didn’t try to hide his frustration with the agents watching over him. The secret service was even worse than the CIA. They were trained to guard some of the most important people on the planet and treated Warren like the sort of VIP that no one would want to be. Risk assessments were done every time he wanted to stop for a bathroom break on the way to the White House, and he wasn’t allowed to leave the car for any other reason. Warren didn’t know what to expect next.

  He was dressed in blue jeans, an old sweater and a worn pair of boots. He noticed he was the only one not wearing a suit; his duffle bag of clothes didn’t have anything smarter in it. Warren began to feel like a lost boy at an airport with grown-ups buzzing around him looking concerned about everything and too important to stop and talk. He sat clutching his bag with his left hand. His mood lifted when he heard a voice he recognized. It was Bill, salvation he thought.

  “Warren, how long have you been here?” Bill asked as he walked in.

  “About an hour. Maybe more. I haven’t got my watch and my cell phone’s at home” Warren replied.

  Bill didn’t have anything further to say. He’d had a tough day and wasn’t in the mood for small talk. James milled around a few feet behind Bill and didn’t say anything to Warren. Roger had disappeared.

  “Right, OK. We’re going to see him now,” Roger said as he appeared from a side door. He turned back and gestured for them to follow.

  They all walked into a short hallway. A man in full army regalia stood staring at them. He was 6 feet tall, well built with a thick neck and a razor sharp army buzz cut.

  “Hey Harry, three guests and me,” Roger said to the guard.

  “Only two have IDs,” he responded. Roger turned back and both James and Bill had their guest IDs around their neck but Warren didn’t.

  “Warren, where’s your pass?” Roger asked.

  “Pass? No one said anything about a pass. Should I have one?” Warren answered.

  “How did you get in here? Surely you must have had to show a pass?” Roger tried to mask his annoyance but did a bad job.

  “The guys that picked me up just walked me in. They flashed their passes then sat me in that chair and said to wait.” Warren was hoping this would mean that he wouldn’t be allowed in. As much as he wanted to meet the president he didn’t want to do so in a pair of old jeans and a stained shirt.

  “Harry, you’ve got three guests on the manifest. Can you just let him in without a pass?” Roger asked, knowing the answer.

  The muscles in the soldier’s face barely moved. “You know I can’t.”

  “Dammit,” Roger responded without looking at anyone. “Wait here!” Roger said. The three men waited anxiously. Although Roger was gone less than a minute, it felt much longer.

  “Right, here we go Harry, all good?” Harry looked at the new pass that Roger had brought for Warren.

  “In you go,” Harry answered in his deep voice resonating off the walls around them all. Roger opened the door.

  Warren didn’t know what to expect when he walked into the Oval Office. It appeared to be the same as in the movies. Bill was in awe of the room. James completely ignored the room and prepared his charm for his introduction to the president who stood behind his desk.

  “Good evening, thank you all for coming.” The president spoke and every syllable hit the ears of his audience sharply. He looked at the men. Roger was as sharp looking as ever. Two of the other men had suits on; one looked much smarter than the other who looked like he’d been sweating and appeared to have BBQ sauce on his shirt and tie. One man looked like he was dressed to meet a friend at a bar, and looked embarrassed being there.

  “I know you’ve all had stressful days and had to haul ass to get here. I appreciate it,” the president said and turned to Roger. “Could you introduce me?”

&nbs
p; “Of course sir,” Roger replied. All the men were still standing. “This is James Conran, CIA, Bill Stanfield, Army special operations and Two Star General and on the end is Warren Jackson, he works in the cyber defense department in the army under Bill,” Roger announced. Each man shook hands with the president as their name was called.

  “Warren, I’m sorry we had to rush you out of your home. Roger advised me it would be best just to get you safe then decide what to do,” the president said in a soft tone like an old uncle.

  “No problem. If I had known I was coming here today I would have put on better clothes. I-“

  The president raised his hand and Warren immediately stopped speaking. “No need to explain, we didn’t tell you where you were going. Please, don’t worry about it.” Warren felt relaxed for the first time in ten hours. His heartbeat dropped. He could have hugged the president right there and then.

  “Bill, I heard we had to rush you about and you missed lunch. Thanks, I appreciate it.” The president had a big smile on his face as spoke.

  “Oh it was fine. I…well, duty calls.” Bill tried to sound stern and official but failed miserably.

  “James, thanks for rushing this morning. I know you were meant to be having this meeting in your office in Manhattan.”

  “Not a problem sir. Anything for my country!” James thought this would make him sound patriotic but instead sounded rehearsed.

  “Listen gentlemen, I’m going to get straight to it. There is something about this project that none of you have been told.” Everyone in the room was alert. Roger’s ears stuck on end and Bill and James were leaning forward on their seats. Warren didn’t know how to act so stared forward blankly.

  The president raised a shabby looking briefcase from behind his desk. It was at least a hundred years old. The leather was dry and cracked on the corners and its color had faded. The president entered a combination code and sifted through a few pieces of paper. He pulled two out. They had been written using a typewriter and the indent of each letter could be felt on the back of the page.