Rule 53

by Elaine Nolan

  “You’re hot in that uniform,” he whispered to her, before walking away, as far from her as he could get. She blushed in return, but regained her composure before returning to Adam.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “There’ll be no more compromising photos sent to the Embassy,” she told him.

  “Good to know.”

  Swayne stood at the podium, with Nathan Rainey and other persons of note, joining her on the raised platform.

  “Ladies, Gentlemen, distinguished guests, I welcome you today, and I thank you for your participation and cooperation in our joint task force. Troubled times like these bring people closer together, irrespective of race, creed or nationality. Instead, we are Human, one race, one people, working together. The object of this training is to bring nations together, to defend one another, to protect one another. I have seen the generosity of that spirit in Europe, of how they accepted Americans, fleeing from a desperate situation. They gave us homes, jobs, a life. But here, we are still faced with fear, with hatred, and this we must strive to overcome. We will not bow to fear, we will not surrender to defeat of spirit. We will stand united, fight together, overcome obstacles, but only if we stand as one.”

  They met her speech with applause, raucous in some areas more than others, but Leigh and Adam exchanged glances. His neutral, bland expression said he wasn’t buying any of her talk, and Leigh’s smirk said she agreed with him.

  “I wish every one of you success, and may God bless you all,” Swayne ended, stepping away from the podium.

  “And have mercy on our souls,” Adam muttered to Leigh. She bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. Swayne shook hands with the rest of her assembled supporting cast, guessing these were the geniuses responsible for the idea, and Leigh frowned when Nathan received most of the attention.

  “Is it just me, or is your big brother behind this?” Adam asked, keeping his voice low.

  “That’s how I’m seeing it,” she answered back.

  “Any idea what the hell he’s up to?”

  “None.”

  “Can you find out?”

  “I told him to go to hell. If I act like I care now, he’ll know I’m fishing, and liable to feed me bullshit.”

  “You two are alike then,” he said, smirking as she glared at him in return, but she recovered and he guessed she wasn’t one to hold grudges. But, if she was as devious as her file outlined, he didn’t want to be on the wrong end of revenge from her.

  “I disagree,” she shot back, and he chuckled, catching Jake watching them from across the room. Adam gave the American a hard stare until Jake moved away.

  Back at the Embassy Adam dropped the information briefing pack on the conference table, and slid it across to Garda Tom Lawler, head of the Counter Terrorism team, who caught it before it reached the edge.

  “How bad?” he asked.

  “I stand by my original assessment, something’s not right,” Adam answered.

  “How so?” Tom asked, scanning through the documentation.

  “Twenty or thirty different countries, at least, dispersed throughout the entire city, on an army exercise, in residential areas… sure what could go wrong?” Adam answered.

  “And you?” Tom asked Leigh.

  “I think there’s more going on here,” she admitted.

  “Is that your assessment, or your boyfriend’s?” he threw back. Donal had obviously clued in the head of the CTI.

  “Mine, and mine alone,” she answered.

  “Rainey seems heavily involved,” Adam added. “Surprised you weren’t there.”

  “My uniform wouldn’t have fit in,” Tom answered, referring to the dark blue of the Garda clothing. “But Rainey? You’re sure? He’s on his own if he is; none of his cohorts have mentioned it.” Adam glanced at Leigh.

  “Any ideas?”

  “How would I know?”

  He gave her that knowing glance again, and Tom questioned it.

  “Oh? You didn’t hear that titbit of scandal and gossip?” Adam answered with a chuckle. “Then allow me to introduce you to Rainey’s younger half-sister.”

  “Fuck off,” Tom said, not falling for another of Adam’s pranks again.

  “No, it’s real, this time,” Adam assured him. Tom shifted his disbelieving stare to Leigh.

  “Hey, I only just found out,” she defended herself.

  “How?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I think we do,” Donal answered as he entered, having caught the tail end of their conversation. He placed a file on the conference table with measured care, his fists resting on the table as he leaned towards Leigh. “Do I need to drug test you? Swayne’s people said you seemed high and out of it at the reception and made a scene with Rainey. I saw the security footage where he had to carry your incapacitated ass out. Given your past with drug abuse and now this…,” he pulled another picture out from the folder and slammed it onto the table in front of her. She blushed at the image, of her in Jake’s apartment when she’d surrendered to him. Standing, pulling herself tall, she steadied herself and hardened her features, the uniform lending weight to her anger.

  “There was no scene, and I was ‘out of it’ because Rainey drugged me, kidnapped me, and drugged me again. And that,” she pressed a finger to the picture, “is none of your business.”

  “It is if it means you’ve been compromised by a foreign agent, and that looks compromising.”

  “As opposed to what you’ve been getting up to on Grinder?” Colour drained from his face.

  “My preferences are none of your concern,” he retorted.

  “And neither are mine,” she snapped back. Adam pulled the picture away from her, his eyebrows arching in disbelief before Tom took it.

  “Wow,” was all he managed to say.

  “While it’s an interesting shot of you, I wouldn’t suggest it for your Christmas card this year,” Adam said.

  “For the record, I’m not usually the one who’s tied up.”

  “Now that I believe,” he answered.

  “You come into my Embassy, under a bullshit excuse and on the whim of another European agency, and you… do… that, with a known intelligence agent of another country… Excuse me if I find you and your behaviour questionable,” Donal said.

  “Is that why you tried to hide that tracker module on the server, to record everything I did? Did you think I wouldn’t find it? I’ve been honest with you at every step. The real reason I’m here is dead, and being cremated today, so if you have a problem with me, with my loyalties, or my associations then I have no problem going home and letting you sort your own problems out here.”

  “That’s not what Donal’s saying,” Tom defended.

  “Isn’t it? My situation here isn’t ideal, I’m not your ideal as an Intelligence Officer. I didn’t ask for this, and again, with Gouderhoff dead and no leads on his killer, there’s no reason for me to stay here.”

  “You’re not going home, nor will I be sending you back, as much as I’d like to,” Donal answered. “We’re going to use this newfound connection to Rainey.” He gave her a grim grin.

  She took his folder, seeing her name on it and scanned the other photos in the file, spreading them in front of her, then picked up her phone and started to leave.

  “Are you calling him?” Donal demanded. She didn’t answer, just glared at him as she slammed the door behind her.

  “Hey,” Jake answered, sounding cheerful. “Whatever happened to taking a break.”

  “Something’s come up,” she told him. “Those photos sent to the Embassy?”

  “The ones you said Swayne sent?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not the one being watched, Jake. You are.”

  CHAPTER 31

  “What are you wearing?” the Director of Huntington asked. Leigh glanced at her shirt and tie, having taken off her jacket.

  “Oh, dress uniform,” she answered.

  “What uniform?” Walters demanded.
<
br />   “Army.”

  “Okay, here’s my real question, what are you doing in an army dress uniform?”

  The question, and in that tone, puzzled a tired and annoyed Leigh who’d decided now was as good a time as any to reconnect with Walters and get an update on any findings Huntington had made, although Leigh found no new files uploaded to their servers.

  “Why is it bothering you?” Leigh answered back.

  “Because you work for me. You’re not a library book on loan to a mickey-mouse operation,” Walters snapped back, taking Leigh by surprise.

  “You think the Irish army’s a joke? You said you trained with them, how could you think that?”

  “Let’s face it; they’re not the SAS.”

  “Last I heard our Ranger Unit trained your SAS. What is your fucking problem?” Leigh’s mood continued to deteriorate.

  “Are you any closer to finding Gouderhoff’s killer, or deciphering his message?” Walters demanded.

  “No, but you’ve given me fuck all to work with, Director,” Leigh retorted, her temper now reaching her limits.

  “Do not speak to me like that.”

  “Then you need to calm the fuck down,” Leigh answered in a chillingly low and restrained tone. “As far as I can tell, you and your organisation haven’t found a single thing to help me. You’ve made no files available, none of your so-called searching has produced a single piece of information that could shed light on this, and you’re the ones with the hard copies, not me.”

  “Are you questioning my authority?”

  “No Director, just your ability to coordinate an investigation. If you’ve no updates for me, or anything useful, I’m signing off.” Without waiting for an answer, or another outburst, she disconnected the video link, and imagined Walters’ furious features. Leigh scrubbed her face with her hands.

  “You really do have an issue with authority, don’t you?” Donal said, standing at the threshold of the tiny office, and catching Leigh by surprise.

  “No. I’ve an issue with incompetence, interference, and stonewalling.”

  “On the subject of interference and stonewalling,” he said, entering and taking the only other seat in the room. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Are you interfering on our investigations into Rainey and his cohorts, or stonewalling where Jake Mann is concerned.”

  She sighed and took a deep breath to calm her temper.

  “I knew nothing about Rainey until you assigned me the job of screening and background checking. He only revealed who he was after he drugged and kidnapped me.”

  “From talking to Swayne’s people, he was the reason you got invited. Now I know why. But this… thing with Mann…”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Rainey had me injected with Ketamine. Given my past, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave me tempted and wanting more. Jake was simply helping me to overcome that urge, and with Karl’s murder in the mix of emotions, I was tempted. It was nothing more than help from a friend, with some mutual satisfaction and pleasure.”

  “And that’s all?”

  She nodded.

  “And my Grinder account, how the hell did you find it?”

  “I might not be a team player, but I like to know who I’m working with, and what I will tell you is I’m not the only one who’s been watching you. I don’t give a flying rat’s ass what or who you do, but don’t start pointing fingers at people when you can’t stand over your own actions.”

  “Who’s been watching?” he asked, but she sensed he knew.

  “The Brits, for starters,” she answered and he nodded. “Then there’s the US, China, France and Germany, but the German guy is genuinely interested in, you know… you.”

  He sat back and crossed his arms, sizing her up.

  “Do you trust him? Mann?”

  “More than I trust you.”

  “That’s not saying a lot, and yet it speaks volumes. Friendships are impossible in this world, and intimate relationships can be the undoing of an agent.”

  “Jake’s already taught me that.”

  “And you wonder why I have issues with your allegiances.”

  She just shrugged, too tired to care anymore.

  CHAPTER 32

  She stared at the bulky equipment on the floor, packed in its dark-green camouflage print backpack. It looked heavy.

  “What is that?” she asked, worried as Adam grinned at her.

  “You’re our Communications Specialist, that’s your comms gear.”

  “Where do you normally store it, a World War Two museum? Or maybe World War One?”

  “No, this is your gear, and you know you have to carry the rest of your equipment and supplies. No mollycoddling here.”

  She folded her arms and stared at him.

  “You realise I brought new equipment with me, from this century?”

  He gave in and laughed. “Dammit, I usually get a better, hilarious reaction from the newbies.”

  “I’m not the Intelligence Specialist for nothing,” she retorted. He laughed again, handing over the proper comms equipment, state-of-the-art, and lighter than the heap of antiquated junk he’d tried to prank her with. She turned the touchscreens on, carried out a communications check with Donal, sitting at her station in the Crow’s Nest. He sounded disappointed to hear from her so soon and guessed the hoax hadn’t worked.

  Adam and Leigh finished their pre-check, double-checking the others’ strappings were secure and unlikely to snap at an inopportune time. They joined the rest of the squad, twenty personnel equipped and ready for combat, each hoping not to see action, but prepared for it. As the junior of the two ranking officers, Leigh stood a step behind Adam as he barked orders, an officer at odds with his joker and trickster character.

  The purpose of this exercise, according to the brochure, was readiness for another potential attack on an Embassy, or even on the city itself. It was a unique plan, with several Embassies taking part from around the world, not just from the EU. The project planners called it Social Enhancement, an exercise for international cooperation, and that there was nothing to fear from foreign aid. It held the high ideal of showing that everyone, from around the world, could work in harmony.

  Leigh felt it sounded like something from a utopian story, and in every one she’d ever read, that ideology came at a high human cost, the sacrifice of the self for the greater good of the collective. She wondered if this mad scheme was part of her half-brother’s drivel about creating with a social conscience.

  Adam led them to their designated zone of engagement, with each squad assigned to a quadrant in the city, along with other nations, assigned at random, which both Donal and Tom doubted. The plan was to rendezvous and coordinate a strategy with the other squads, on the scenario they’d only receive when they were in place.

  Leigh checked the smaller phone-sized screen, encased in toughened rubber and strapped to her lower arm, displaying the local ordnance survey, also pinpointing the other squads converging on their designated starting point. The tiny flags on the screen told her who they were meeting and she relayed that intel to Adam via the comms unit. Stuck in the middle of the pack where he put her for safety, he glanced back at her, surprised by the list of countries selected for their group. If the choice was for the soccer world cup, they’d reach the semi-finals with ease. He said as much to the squad, earning chuckles as they continued.

  They reached the rendezvous point, converging with their counterparts from Austria, India, Latvia and Sweden, all neighbours on Massachusetts Avenue. It made for an interesting mix, but in the event of a real Embassy attack, the aim of this was to strengthen the connections and the bonds of cooperation.

  The most senior ranking officer was the Swedish Överstelöjtnant, their Lieutenant Colonel, and they both saluted him. Adam introduced them both before joining the assembled group of officers of similar ranking to their own. No salutes, just
introductions and handshakes, and Adam noted the same concern and scepticism shared among them. She wasn’t the only intel Officer in the group and they greeted each other. In the intelligence community, networking and good relationships were key to information sharing and gathering. They agreed on a comms channel to communicate with each other.

  While they’d received a basic briefing on this exercise, full details emailed through on her smaller device, but she pulled the tablet sized one from its secure pocket inside her combat jacket. Scrolling through it, Adam read over her shoulder, the others doing similar. The Lieutenant Colonel left nothing to chance, or misunderstanding, and read through the operation’s instructions, ensuring everyone knew where their squads were to be, and the tasks involved.

  Satisfied, he dismissed them, and they returned to their respective squads to await the official start, a cannon shot from a ship berthed on the Potomac. Adam had rolled his eyes when he read of the associated fanfare and drama, typical of America, and was grateful they refrained from a marching band. Jake, in confidence, explained that they didn’t have the personnel to put on a show, with US forces divided and scattered. It was music to Adam’s ears.

  “Aire, luígh isteach (attention, fall in)” he barked to the squad. Leigh handed him the tablet and he read out the scenario, everyone remaining impassive, but little details and facial cues gave away what they were thinking. Theirs was the easier task of the lot, and Adam wondered if it reflected their neutral stance.

  Still, in a real-life operation, it had the potential to be dangerous; that of securing the safety of the residents in their quadrant, despite the area supposed to be free of civilians.

  “Either they didn’t get the memo, or not everyone is happy to play along,” he told them. “Ours is a peacekeeping effort. Tuigeann gach duine? (Everyone understand?)” He got affirmatives in reply, in Irish, and grim. No one was here for the fun of it. “Ar aghaidh (forward),” he ordered, setting them off.

  While TV and movies played on the notion military types were gun-toting and trigger-happy, with questionable mental stability, in reality, most of those were weeded out at early stages. The training was designed for it, as she’d found out herself, and as much as she never considered herself a team player, here she stood with them, as one cohesive unit.