Operation Assassination

by Anne Fox

  “I didn’t realize when they told me a couple of agents would be coming to talk with me that the two of you would be husband and wife.” He took them in. “Mr. and Mrs.?”

  “Smith,” Spud said. “You can call me Jim, though. And my wife is Katie. Care to take a walk?”

  “If it gets me away from this damned AStar, sure.”

  The three walked out through the air side door onto the ramp where more helicopters and a few smaller, fixed-wing aircraft were parked.

  “I’m working on my pilot’s license now,” Hank said. “But I’ve never flown into or out of an airport this large myself.”

  “My wife has her pilot’s license,” Frank said. Turning to Spud, he asked, “And you’re not by chance a mechanic yourself?”

  Spud laughed. “I’m afraid not. The closest I get to aviation is riding in the back of the Latitude.”

  “Was that your plane I saw taxi by earlier?”

  “Not my personal airplane, but it does belong to the organization I work for. Would you like to get a closer look?”

  “Sure. Am I wrong, or is that plane pretty much fresh off the floor in Wichita?”

  “The only hours on it are the ones we’ve put on it.”

  “Nice. It must be nice for your mechanics to work on a new plane and not be trying to get an older one to keep limping along.”

  “Well, that’s our problem. We currently don’t have a mechanic and have to rely on the services of others. It would benefit us to have our own guy.” Spud swept his hand back in the direction of the maintenance hangar. “We’ve got a car here and would be happy to take you for a peek.”

  Spud walked ahead with Frank. Holding back a bit, Hank whispered, “Crow, if you’re still in the FBO, go hide somewhere. We’re bringing Frank over.”

  “Hank, roger,” she heard Crow say in her earpiece.

  Driving back to the FBO, they arrived to find Cloud sitting in the pilot’s lounge.

  “This is Chuck. He’s one of our pilots,” Spud told Frank by way of introduction.

  Cloud stood and extended his hand. “Nice meeting you. The airstair is open, Katie. Katie knows her way around the plane, so I’ll let her give you the grand tour.”

  Hank led the way out onto the ramp and over to the Latitude.

  “November 101UN,” Frank said, reading off the aircraft registration number. “Is this the plane I’ll be working on?”

  Hank walked up the airstair and turned to face him. “This and its sister ship, 102UN. Plus, we have a helicopter and a Piper Archer that belongs to one of the pilots.”

  “A mixed bag. No boredom there,” Frank said.

  “We never know when we’ll get authorization for another aircraft as well,” Spud said from behind Frank.

  “Not a problem for me,” Frank said. “I have my own maintenance business on the side and have worked on all kinds.”

  “Have a seat,” Hank said, “and I’ll go see what we’ve got in the galley. I understand you’re Texan all the way through, so I can guess what you want to drink.” Spud and Frank sat across from each other while Hank went off to the galley. Coming back, she pulled out the table that sat between Frank and Spud, putting coffee down in front of Spud and a can of Dr. Pepper along with a glass of ice in front of Frank. “It was either Dr. Pepper or a Shiner Bock, and I’m afraid our organization has a ‘no alcohol’ rule, so Dr. Pepper it is.”

  “You must be from Texas, too,” Frank said.

  “Actually, no. But I was located in Albuquerque in my previous job.”

  “Really? What did you do?” Frank asked.

  Hank looked questioningly at Spud. We didn’t plan for that question, she thought.

  Spud gave her a little nod.

  “FBI,” she said.

  “Were you in the FBI, too?” Frank asked Spud.

  Spud swallowed the coffee he had in his mouth and said, “Secret Service.”

  “Really! Did you guard the President?”

  “As a matter of fact...”

  “Wow. I wouldn’t think anyone would leave that job,” Frank said.

  “What I do now is a better job,” Spud said. “And the icing is that it’s how I met my wife.”

  “So, the question now,” Hank began, setting a plate of pastries in front of the two men and taking a seat across the aisle with her own cup of coffee and a bagel, “is whether you’ll think the job we’re offering is a better one than the one you have, Frank.”

  “It depends on what’s involved.”

  “Two things: keep the aircraft in the air, and keep knowledge of our organization out of the air.”

  “What about my wife?”

  “She doesn’t get to know specifics. Currently, we’re at Quantico. But our organization is preparing for a move to Nebraska in perhaps a year. All of your relocation expenses will be paid. For your wife, you can tell her you work at Quantico while we’re still there, and once the move is made to Nebraska, you can tell her you work at the airport. Unless,” Hank said, “we have a need for her and she’s qualified to be hired. Then, of course, she’ll be under the same restrictions as you’ll be.”

  “What does she do now?” Spud asked.

  “She’s my partner in my maintenance business.”

  “I don’t think there will be objections to you continuing your business,” Spud said. “It would actually probably be good cover, as our aircraft would just be another customer as far as your private customers are concerned. Just cover up our N-numbers when you have the aircraft in to be worked on. Tell your other customers you’re doing some paint or something.” Spud shrugged. “Heck, tell them the truth. Your customer doesn’t want others to know you’re working on their aircraft.”

  “Having them see the N-numbers is a problem?” Frank asked.

  “If they get curious and try running the N-numbers, yes. Because an N-number search won’t come up with anything.”

  “It all sounds a bit mysterious.”

  “We’re willing to explain the whole thing if you can sign a document for us,” Hank said. She reached behind her seat and picked up a briefcase that was sitting on the floor. Opening it, she took out a sheet of paper. “Nondisclosure agreement,” she explained. “Sign this, and we can tell you everything. Just make sure you read it first, because violating the terms of this agreement entails very severe penalties.”

  Frank took the paper and read it over carefully. “I talk, I go to prison for the rest of my life,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  He shrugged. “Working for the DHS isn’t quite so strict.”

  “And for us, working for the DHS isn’t quite so dangerous. What you have to decide is if you want a job that helps people who do a very dangerous job or if you want to stick with working for the DHS,” Spud said.

  “I guess I should ask what it pays.”

  Spud wrote a figure on a piece of paper, placed it face down, and slid it across the table.

  Frank lifted one corner and got a peek at the figure. Both Spud and Hank could see that he considered it an attractive offer.

  “Plus, you keep whatever you get from your other customers as well,” Hank said.

  “And using your business as a cover for what you’ll be doing for our organization will mean you can be up front with your wife. You just tell her the same thing you tell your other customers. The customer with the covered N-numbers doesn’t want their movements known. I’m sure there are plenty of celebrities who work the same way,” Spud said. “So, what do you say? Do you want a new job?”

  Frank thought a moment, then read the nondisclosure agreement again. “Got a pen?”

  Hank smiled. “I knew I liked you.”

  Frank took the pen from her hand and signed the paper.

  “Now we can talk,” Hank said. “And if you thought it sounded odd before, it’s going to get even more odd. Because this organization we’re part of has no name. And neither do we.”

  “You’re not Jim and Katie Smith?”

  “Not even
close. I go by Hank.”

  “You’re not a guy.”

  Hank laughed. “It’s a long story. He goes by Spud,” she added.

  “Codenames.”

  “Codenames. Each of us who are part of the mission team gave up our real identities to be part of this unit.” She took out another sheet of paper. “Are you ready to sign a release to let us get a look at your criminal records?”

  Frank laughed. “If I had a criminal record, I wouldn’t be working where I am now.”

  “It’s a formality, but we have to have it.” She slid the paper over to him. He read it over and signed.

  “And this last one is your employment contract. It details your pay, benefits, retirement plan, medical plan, etc. I think you’ll find it as generous as the yearly salary Spud showed you.”

  Frank took the pen and held it poised in the air while he read over the contract. “It’s a sight better than I get now,” he said, and signed.

  “Welcome aboard, Frank.”

  “I get to keep my name?”

  “Because you’ll be on our support team, yes,” Spud said.

  “Is this contract the same as the one you both signed?”

  “No. We had to become non-persons to be part of the mission team. Technically, the people we were are dead. We don’t exist. That’s why we’re codenamed. And for you, there’s only one other thing you’re going to need to consent to.” Spud took off his jacket and tie and undid his shirt. “You have to consent to having one of these implanted,” he said, pointing to the incision in his shoulder and the outline of the bum ticker.

  “What is it?”

  “A communications and data relay device. We call it a ‘bum ticker.’ It’s made to look like a pacemaker. You, Frank, are going to explain to your wife that you have atrial fibrillation and this is needed to keep your heart beating regularly. But it won’t interfere with your heart at all. This surgery will be done by our doctors in Quantico, Virginia. So right off the bat, you’re going to get about a month’s paid leave to recover. Our doctors take care of all your medical needs, so basically your medical plan will simply cover your wife.”

  “And there’s no risk involved in having this thing in me?”

  “There’s risk in everything, Frank,” Hank said. “There could be a meteor headed here that will punch through this plane and kill you while we’re talking. I’ll simply tell you that the doctor we have who does the surgery hasn’t goofed yet.”

  “You have one of these, too?”

  Hank laughed. “Yes, but I’m not going to show you my surgical scar. If I did, Spud would punch you, and possibly divorce me. They put a woman’s under her left breast.”

  “So, he really is your husband.”

  “That much is very true,” Spud said. “And I did meet her working for the unit. I was the one who recruited her.”

  “That was a successful recruiting job, Hank,” Spud remarked as the Latitude coursed back toward Quantico.

  “The reunion between Crow and Frank was interesting, too,” Hank said. “The fact that they know each other should make the transition to the unit easier for Frank, and the fact that Frank’s wife never met Crow is good as well.”

  The two of them sat silently for a moment. Then a grin started to spread across Spud’s face.

  “You know something?” he said, leaning close to Hank and taking a glance up toward the cockpit. “They’ve got the cockpit curtain drawn.”

  “This is important because?”

  “Because it means our pilots are concentrating on flying.”

  “They always do, Spud.”

  “True enough, but they’re doing so even while we’re back here.”

  Hank looked at him, an incredulous expression on her face. “Just what are you suggesting?”

  “I’m suggesting,” Spud said, leaning and kissing her neck, “that they can’t see anything, and if we move back to the back of the plane, they won’t be able to hear over the engines, either. Especially with headsets on.”

  “You weren’t really serious about joining the Mile High Club, were you?”

  “I was joking, but hey. Opportunity awaits.” He ran his hand under the jacket of her pantsuit.

  “Spud, don’t make me crazy.”

  “I’m just checking to make sure your bum ticker hasn’t shifted,” he grinned, caressing her breast.

  “Stop that!” she whispered.

  “Ok. I’ll just go back and sit in one of the rear seats.” He got up and moved to the rear of the cabin.

  Hank sat for a few seconds and noted how erect her nipples were. Damn, all he has to do is touch me. She got up and followed him.

  In the cockpit, Cloud noticed the aircraft pitch up slightly, then the autopilot make a slight adjustment to the aircraft’s trim, moving it a little further nose down to maintain level flight. Moving the cockpit curtain aside a little, he noted his passengers had relocated and snickered a bit.

  “What?” Crow asked, slipping his headset off his left ear.

  “George just had to do a little trim correction,” he said, referring to the autopilot. “Spud and Hank just went to the back of the plane,” he added, chuckling and slipping his headset off his right ear. “I think we might be in for a little turbulence soon.”

  Crow snickered as well. “Lav?”

  “No. They’re in one of the rear seats.”

  “Both of them? In one seat?”

  Cloud took another look and snickered again. “I guess you could say ‘kind of.’ All I can see at the moment is the back of Spud’s head.”

  “Those two seats face forward.”

  “I know.”

  “Does he look like he’s... busy?”

  From the cabin, they both heard Spud say, “SHHH!” followed by a muffled cry from Hank. The two pilots chuckled and shook their heads. “Guess that answers that,” Crow said.

  “I told you if we closed the curtain they’d be tempted,” Cloud said. “And I guess you didn’t notice he’s wearing the suit Mike made him.”

  “Yeah, I shouldn’t have taken that bet,” Crow admitted. “I hope they put something in the seat. That can really mess up the leather.”

  They both laughed out loud.

  “Wonder what they’re finding so funny?” Spud said, hearing them as he was helping Hank get her pants back on.

  In the cockpit, Crow was saying, “Double or nothing?”

  “What the heck. I’m already a quarter up on you, so you paid half the bet.”

  “Bet I can get them turning red when I give them these.” He pulled two Mile High Club Wings pins from his pocket.

  Cloud laughed. “I don’t know if I should take the bet. But, on the other hand, we’re talking about a couple that didn’t think anything of dropping a dildo on the team table in front of everyone, so maybe they don’t get embarrassed that easily.” He pulled two quarters from his pocket, and they both dropped their quarters in the depression at the rear of the center console.

  Arriving back at Quantico, Crow scooped up the four quarters and stuck them in his pocket along with the Mile High pins. Hank was gathering the dirty cups, her jacket draped on the bench seat by the galley. Crow discretely pointed it out to Cloud.

  “Not wearing your jacket?” Cloud asked.

  “Nah. It was a little warm back in the cabin.”

  Stepping down the airstair with Crow, he remarked quietly, “I’d say it was downright hot back there,” getting Crow laughing.

  Reaching the bottom of the airstair, they heard Spud say to Hank, “I’m going to have to figure out how to get this dry cleaned.” Looking back, Spud was examining Hank’s jacket.

  “I guess we don’t have to worry about the leather on the seat,” Cloud remarked, getting the two pilots laughing out loud again.

  “Glad they’re enjoying themselves while we clean up the cabin and the galley,” Hank groused. She grabbed the dish tray with dirty coffee cups and leftover catering items in it and headed for the unit’s van for the trip back to t
he BEQ.

  As they rode back, Hank and Spud sat silently, their hands in their laps, a little smile on their faces, looking straight ahead. Crow gave a glance back to where they were sitting, and they both just looked innocently at him.

  Looking forward again, he whispered over the comm link, “Cloud, we’ve got two little innocent school kids back there.”

  From the driver’s seat, Cloud took a look in the rearview mirror. He chuckled, then whispered, smiling, “Crow, Spud says, ‘I didn’t do it.’”

  “Cloud, Oh yes, Spud, you did it!” Crow whispered, getting both of them laughing again.

  Spud and Hank both looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

  “Hey, Doc Andy,” Cloud said, walking into his office. “Would you like to stay for dinner tonight? The team would like you to eat with us.”

  “Is this still by way of some sort of unnecessary apology?” Doc Andy asked.

  “Nope. It’s karma time for Spud and Hank.”

  Doc Andy smiled, and with a few keystrokes closed out the file he was working on. “I’ll go with you.”

  Walking into the cafeteria, he took a chair at the team table alongside Crow. “I take it you’re here for the fun,” Crow said.

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “We had a successful recruiting mission today,” Crow announced to the rest of the team and the few unit support personnel eating in the cafeteria for dinner. “As soon as we can get him, his wife, and their belongings here, the support team will be joined by Frank Hughes. Frank will be our aviation mechanic. Crow actually knows him from when he was in the DEA.”

  Crow then went and stood behind where Spud and Hank were sitting. “We owe a lot to these two for the success of this recruitment,” he said. “And we’d especially like to commend them and award them these wings for successfully joining the Mile High Club on the trip back.”

  Doc Andy put his hand over his mouth but couldn’t quite suppress his laughter.

  Spud and Hank both turned bright red. Hiding her face in her hands, Hank muttered, “Spud, I’m going to kill you,” as Crow and Cloud pinned the wings on them and everyone present laughed, clapped, and shook their heads.

  Crow took the four quarters from his pocket and giving them a little toss in his hand, said, “I guess I get to keep these as well.” Then he and Cloud pointed their fingers at Spud and Hank and said, “GOTCHA!”