Amy Lynn: Golden Angel

by Jack July

  “The CIA murdered a Senator?” Elle said in shock.

  “No, the CIA neutralized a traitor who got one of our operatives killed. He’s not the first. Remember Assistant Secretary of State Davis? Killed in a car accident in Siberia. Another traitor.”

  “Elle, our job is to protect this country from all enemies foreign and domestic. The enemy inside the gate is more dangerous than the enemy on the outside. That’s why you trust no one. Get some sleep, it may be the last you get for awhile.”

  “What do I do with this jewelry?” asked Elle, holding out the loot Tatiana had directed her to take from Rosa’s bedside table.

  “Put in in your bag. When we get back to D.C., I will introduce you to a friend. He will liquidate it, take ten percent and you’ll put the rest into a Swiss bank account. That’s your retirement. When you leave the business you will suddenly have fewer friends and more enemies. You will need to disappear. That costs a few million. You run across cash, jewelry or the occasional piece of art—take it. You can’t steal from a thief. Understand?”

  “Yeah, got it,” Elle leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. At twenty-two years of age she had just been made privy to some of the deepest, darkest secrets the country held. With that, she reasoned, there must be so much more. As with water, the deeper she went, the more pressure she felt. But as if on cue, Tatiana reached out and gently squeezed her forearm. Elle didn’t flinch or jump. When people touched her she had always reacted by pulling in, but not with Tatiana. Inside, Elle felt spreading warmth, a righteousness of purpose. Tatiana gave her the feeling and she would do everything in her power not to let her down.

  November 23rd 3:00 P.M., Germany

  Bogus was never one to get his hands dirty, literally. He was a borderline germophobe. Where T took a hands-on approach to interrogation, Bogus preferred to rely on chemical methods.

  Andric Huber sat lightly bound in the chair, the clear tube of an IV snaking away from his arm to a bag of saline hanging from a stainless steel stand. Bogus administered the first round of his custom-designed truth serum: a cocktail of sodium pentothal, midazolam and scopolamine. Andric was amazingly compliant and denied all knowledge of the DVDs. Doubting Huber’s veracity, even under the influence of his inhibition-lowering cocktail, Bogus incrementally injected Hell into his body. That was the simple name for it, Hell, because you felt like you were being burned alive from the inside out. After another hour, everyone agreed that he knew nothing.

  Bogus, Brandon and Cody stood in the corner of the old abandoned restaurant discussing what to do next. “I’ll overdose him, then we can move on,” said Bogus.

  “Excuse me? You’re going to kill him? He’s innocent—he doesn’t know anything,” said Brandon, incredulous at Bogus’ callousness.

  Cody stepped back, wanting no part of this discussion. “Look, Brandon, he is far from innocent. He victimizes young women in the most disgusting of ways. This is a covert op. To leave him alive could compromise the entire mission. This is how it has to be.”

  Brandon stabbed his finger into the older man’s chest. “No, it’s not. You kill him, you’re gonna have to kill me first.”

  Oh bloody hell, thought Bogus, looking to Cody. Cody threw up his hands, shrugging his massive shoulders. Pulling out his phone, Bogus dialed Tatiana but the call wouldn’t go through. “All right Brandon, but you get to deal with T—she will be furious,” said Bogus, already regretting his decision. They took the bound and gagged Huber down a small country road outside of town and pushed him out of the car, unceremoniously dumping him in a roadside ditch.

  November 8th 9:00 A.M., Off of the coast of Mexico

  Aida was suspicious of the captain’s interest in Kristy, but he was as gentle as a lamb with her. A mountain of a man with a head of curly black hair, and thickly bearded, he was all smiles as he led Kristy by the hand to the bridge, delighted to show her the ship’s operation as he navigated though the channel, headed for the open ocean. Kristy stood on a stool in front of him with her hands on the ship’s wheel, all but forgetting her current situation. As they passed the seawall, Bruno called out, “All ahead one-half. Sanjay, take the helm.”

  “Aye, Captain,” replied Sanjay. “I have the helm.”

  Kristy followed Captain Bastos from the bridge for a tour of the ship when she suddenly stopped, a sad look on her face. Turning and seeing her expression, Bruno lowered his bulky frame to one knee in front of her. With a concerned look wrinkling his broad face, he lifted her chin with one thick finger.

  “What is the matter, pouco?” he asked, using the same Portuguese endearment he bestowed upon his own nieces and nephews.

  Kristy looked at him through eyes misting with tears. “I want to go home to my mommy and daddy.”

  Captain Bastos whispered back, “That’s where I am taking you—home.”

  Kristy cocked her head to the side and said, “Do you promise?”

  Captain Bastos swept Kristy up with thickly muscled arms and stood up straight. “I am the captain of a ship; I am not allowed to lie.”

  Snaking her arms around Bruno’s neck, Kristy laid her head on his shoulder as he marched off and whispered, “Thank you, Captain.”

  For the next two weeks, Kristy followed him everywhere. They would go to the galley for lunch, then walk around on the cool, windy deck. Captain Bastos gave her the smallest foul weather jacket he could find, but it was still huge on her. They made their way forward, where the captain held her steady as she stood aloft on the bow. Kristy squealed with joy as she looked down and watched the porpoises pacing the Constantinople, bursting out of the water in brief flashes to either side of the ship’s prow. She was beginning to enjoy the voyage and felt very safe with the captain. They walked up to the galley and had some hot chocolate. Bruno could not shake the nagging unease he felt when speculating about the circumstances that led to Kristy’s presence on board, but to get involved in Rosa’s business would be suicide. I have to find out the truth, somehow, he thought.

  CHAPTER 31

  November 23rd 6:00 P.M., The Chinese Embassy, Berlin

  The Chinese Ambassador to Germany sat at his large ornate desk enjoying a Snickers bar. His wife had just left for China to visit family and while she was gone, he would partake of all sorts of delicious things. He would be having Italian for dinner, two young Italian girls, that is. Then the private phone rang on his desk. “Hello?”

  “Father, it is me.”

  “Hello Cai! How are you? When are you coming to visit?”

  “Soon Father, I have been busy with work.”

  “How is the movie-making business?”

  “Getting better, I am looking forward to releasing a documentary soon. Father, I am afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “There are people in Germany asking questions of my work, questions about me. I wonder if it is someone seeking revenge for what happed in America.”

  “Who Cai, who would dare bother you?!” his father said in an angry voice.

  “The man asking questions is Boguslaw Zielinski. Do you know him?”

  “I know of him. He is an arrogant dog. I will deal with him. Do not fear Cai. Just be careful.”

  “Thank you, Father. I will.

  After hanging up with his son, Long Cho picked up the phone again to call his aerospace company. He wanted to inquire about the possibility of Zielinski’s helicopter crash being traced back to it somehow. Although they assured him it could not, Long Cho remained unconvinced because there he was, meddling in his son’s business.

  November 24th 2:00 A.M. Germany

  “DAMMIT BOGUS HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND!” screamed T into the phone as she walked across the tarmac in Schonfeld.

  “It was not me, ‘twas Brandon. He said I’d have to kill him first. I could have done that, I suppose,” replied Bogus.

  T took the phone away from her
head and screamed, “FUUUUUUCK!!!”

  Elle cocked her head, arched her eyebrows and inquired, “Problem?”

  T shot Elle a look of disbelief, put the phone back up to her ear and announced, “We meet at safe house Alpha Foxtrot in one hour.”

  “All right,” agreed Bogus.

  T started walking and without looking at Elle declared, “We have been compromised; this mission just got more difficult.” T considered the statement for a moment and then noted, “You need to pay even greater attention to everyone and everything starting now. I fear we may become the hunted.”

  T drove on offense through the town of Schonfeld before hitting the Autobahn at a speed of over one-hundred miles per hour through Leipzig, then exiting north on the A9 at Alt Bork in the rural area just south of Berlin and proceeded to an old, rundown farmhouse. Its exterior stood in stark contrast to what was inside. Windows looked decrepit but were an inch thick, and the doors’ rotted appearance was a façade for their steel interior. By the time T and Elle arrived, Brandon, Cody and Bogus were already there eating sausages and black bread while drinking beer. It was the first beer Brandon had enjoyed in years. The host, aretired German intelligence Officer, was grateful for the company and did his best to spoil his new friends.

  “Oh yeah, food,” Elle remarked while taking a seat at the table.

  “Try some of this mustard on the sausage,” Cody suggested, sliding the jar across the table.

  Karl, the host, poured Amy a stein of Beer but she declined his offer. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t drink.”

  “You don’t drink?” Bogus inquired curiously. “There is so much I would like to learn about you.” He spoke these words with a smile that was a just a little too sweet for Amy’s liking.

  Elle tried not to acknowledge him even though she heard every word. She looked up at him with a slight but knowing grin.

  “Bogus,” T growled while shaking her head. That got everyone’s attention including Brandon. She shot him a steely-eyed look but try as she might, she couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile of her own. Then she abruptly caught herself, looked away, and sat down at the table. “Okay, what do we know? Bogus?”

  “We know that Huber knows nothing. I have put out the word to some friends to find out where Novikov spends his time and I should be hearing back on that shortly. Other than that, I have nothing else to report,” answered Bogus.

  “Anyone else?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Okay, here is what I know: The Rosas Cartel was responsible for the kidnappings and they have been dealt with. We believe the children were most likely sent to Europe on container ships. Where, we don’t know. The Ava Maria will be offloaded as soon as they get it to a port. There is a small possibility Kristy Wilson is on that ship but we can’t be sure. Whoever was buying these children paid two-hundred thousand dollars each for them, so we are dealing with someone extremely wealthy and possibly very powerful. Thing One is tracing finances; I’m hoping we get some leads from that. Because we did not eliminate Huber, we must all assume our cover is blown. Things just got a lot more dangerous. Karl?” T called out.

  “Ready,” replied Karl.

  “Follow me,” ordered T as they all got up and walked into a small communications center. Danny and Edie appeared on the screen.

  “What do you know?” asked Tatiana.

  Danny shook his head and answered, “Not much really. Thing One is burning up the computers at Langley; we expect something from him soon. Normally he doesn’t take this long but there is one thing he found that’s interesting. Items in the two rooms in which the children were um, assaulted were cataloged and the purchase records matched to a common buyer. A couple of charges stood out: a credit card issued to Hong Phat Aviation and one to the Chinese embassy in Berlin.”

  T looked a little surprised, “The Chinese embassy?”

  “Yes ma’am.

  “Edie, can I assume the BND has dossiers on all the occupants of the Chinese embassy?”

  “Yes,” replied Edie. “However, they don’t usually share such information.”

  “Danny, get Langley to compare our dossiers to the BND’s, find out if we have any suspects, anything suspicious – and I mean anything. If you get any pushback from the BND, call the President because German Intelligence pledged full co-operation.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Okay, let’s find Novikov.”

  After a few hours of research and several phone calls, Bogus announced, “Got him! He’s in the porn capitol of the world, Prague.”

  “Okay, let’s go!” T demanded.

  “Relax, our ride will be here in a few minutes,” replied Bogus before taking another little sip of beer.

  Elle lay back on the overstuffed couch and Cody was sopping up sausage juice from the platter with a piece of black bread. T looked at Brandon and motioned with her head to the front door. They walked out together. Bogus turned his attention to Amy and asked, “So my dear, where are you from?”

  “Elle glanced at him quickly and retorted, “That’s classified.”

  “Oh, really? I can find out,” Bogus countered.

  “Well then, I reckon you’ll just have to do that,” she replied breezily, feigning disinterest.

  “Reckon?” Bogus chuckled, “I guess that narrows it down doesn’t it?”

  Elle was upset at herself for the “tell.” She’d have to watch that.

  “Now that we have established your geographical origin—.”

  Cody suddenly interrupted with a stern glace at Bogus, “That’ll be enough Mate.” There was no need to try to look menacing, he was menacing.

  That elicited a small smile and a curt nod from Bogus. Off in the distance, the sound of a helicopter landing spurred them into action.

  They thanked Karl for his hospitality and walked out the front door. Elle looked to her left and saw T standing inches from Brandon whose hands were in his pockets. He stood there shaking his head “no” while T’s body language was reminiscent of a begging child. Elle had never seen her like that before; she definitely didn’t care for it.

  The big white Sikorsky S-92 with the red Z on the side cleared the treetops, made a gentle turn, and set down in a little field beside the house. They walked to the cars and began to gather equipment. Cody yelled over at Tatiana, “Eh, T, we goin’ to talk or are we goin’ to war?”

  She perked up a bit, stood tall and responded, “Simple snatch and grab, minimum weapons. Bogus, bring your kit.”

  Bogus looked at her, nodded and said, “He has a very large, perpetually angry bodyguard.”

  “I guess that will give Cody something to do,” T remarked.

  “Thanks a lot,” Cody retorted.

  Bogus was the first in the helicopter. As Elle and Cody walked across the field Cody looked at her and asked, “Why do you let him treat you that way? Unless you’re playing hard to get?”

  Elle looked at him straight-faced and answered, “Who’s playing? I am hard to get.”

  Cody shrugged and started to walk away when Elle called out to him. He turned to face her.

  “Hey Cody... thanks.”

  He smiled back. “No worries.”

  They all boarded and took off.

  Black Oak, Alabama.

  Jack was wandering around the house growing agitated, worrying about Amy— where she was, what she was doing. He didn’t want to make the call because he already knew what he would hear. Screw it, he thought a moment later. That’s what friends are for. He picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Central Intelligence Agency, how may I direct your call?”

  “John Masters,” Jack replied.

  After a few moments a woman answered, “John Masters’ office, how may I help you?”

  “I’d like to speak to John.”

  “He’s currently unav
ailable, can I take a message?”

  “No, tell him this is Hatchet.”

  “Hold, please.”

  Jack waited for about a minute then John picked up. “Jack, what the fuck? Two calls in a month; I’m honored.”

  “I’d forgotten what a smartass you are.”

  “Part of my charm. What do you need my friend?”

  “My niece, Amy Braxton, took off in a jet to Washington a couple of days ago. I believe she is working with the operative you call T. What’s goin’ on?”

  John went silent for about ten seconds. “Jack, you have been an active participant in this world so you know the rules. I know nothing, period.”

  The phone was silent for another five seconds, then John said, “Here’s what you do. Watch the news. Pay no attention to what they say, just watch what’s happening. You might see something. Other than that, I have no clue.”

  “Got it. When you comin’ down by me? I’ll take ya to the river and maybe a stock car race. You probably won’t want to go home.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of,” he replied.

  “Thanks John.”

  “Later Jack.”

  A half-hour later Jack was glued to Bret Baier as he watched the reported events of the day.

  “Three natural gas explosions rocked Mexico yesterday in separate parts of the country…”

  Hmm, thought Jack.

  “Emile Rosa, leader of the Rosas Cartel was found dead in the desert today outside Tuxpan Mexico. His compound just north of the city was destroyed by what authorities report to be rival gangs…”

  Explosions in Mexico? Dead cartel leader? Jack’s mind raced.

  “In unrelated news, the cruiser USS Cowpens with assistance from other NATO vessels is escorting the container ship Ava Maria that originated in the port of Tuxpan, to a port in Southern Spain. It will be searched for evidence of human trafficking…”