“Looks like Seinkevitz is ready to start a war,” Harley muttered finally. “I estimate those barracks could hold thirty men or more. Wish I’d gotten a bug inside.”
“We’ll know what’s going on when we fire up the laptop and study the feeds.” Mark tucked his cap into his belt and brushed a hand over his dusty head. Infiltration always brought bone-deep exhaustion. Finding that butcher block didn’t help. “The garage looks like it could be an airplane hangar.”
“But there’s no runway,” Harley said. “You sure surprised the heck out of me walking straight in the backdoor like you did.”
“I’ll tell you what surprised me.”
“That chopping block,” Harley said. “I know. It surprised the crap out of me, too.”
“He needs to be stopped,” Mark answered.
“That’s why we’re here.”
“No. We’re only here to watch. I’m talking about—”
“I know what you’re talking about. You want to go charging in there and save the day again. You think I don’t?”
“I don’t want to go charging back in there,” Mark argued. Okay, so, yeah, maybe he did. He was actually more prepared than Harley knew, but now was not the time to reveal the ace up his sleeve. This time he’d pave the way before he took another risk.
“What then? Waltz? Tiptoe?”
Mark caught Harley’s sarcasm. They were both still shaken from the macabre discovery. Harley was just blowing off steam. Mark deliberately changed the subject.
“What’d you say to me back there?”
Harley cast him a sideways smirk. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah. Spit it out.”
“It’s just something I picked up on an operation in Turkey.”
“And?”
“I just said, ‘Hey sweetheart.’”
Mark chuckled. He should’ve known.
“It’s the first thing that came to my mind,” Harley said. “Knock it off. It’s not like I like you or anything.”
The more he tried to explain, the funnier it got. Mark laughed.
“I needed to know stuff like that back then.” Harley was still at it.
Mark shoved him away, trying to regain his composure, and darn glad that particular Russian guard hadn’t known the difference between Pashto and Turkish.
“Say it again,” he told Harley. “I might need those words someday.”
“Hey tatlim.” Harley pronounced the two words slowly. “I think that’s right anyway. It’s been awhile.”
Mark committed them to memory. “You needed those words a lot, did you?”
“I also know some bad language. Keep it up, and you’re gonna hear that, too.”
The banter alleviated the stress of their daring escapade. Before long they were back on the subject of Seinkevitz.
“Man, he’s an arrogant pig to come in here and treat these people like that,” Harley muttered.
“He’s a sick bastard is what he is.”
“What were you thinking walking up to him like that this morning?” Harley asked. “That could’ve gone so bad. I could be sending you home in a body bag.”
“I was thinking of that little old man on his knees, and don’t give me that bullshit,” Mark came back at him. “You would have done the same thing.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Harley agreed. “I’ve been known to be stupid like that once or twice myself.”
“It’s not stupid.” Mark kicked a stone on the crooked goat path they had turned onto. “It’s right. If more people stood up to bastards like Seinkevitz, he’d be out of business. The world would be a better place.”
“Alex says people are like wolves or sheep.”
Mark glanced at his walking buddy. Harley sounded unusually pensive. Their escapade must’ve gotten to him, too. “Which are we?”
“Neither. We’re the guys who stand between the wolves and the sheep.”
“We’re what? Shepherds?” That comparison actually felt right. Maybe Alex had gotten something right after all.
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You served in Iraq, didn’t you?”
Harley nodded. “Right. First time I came to Afghanistan was on a mission with Alex. He introduced me to Arzad. It’s crazy, but it kinda felt like I’d been here before. I’ve always liked these folks. Most of ‘em are good people.”
“I agree,” Mark said. “Could I interest you in a little insurance policy for these good people?”
Harley’s raised eyebrow was enough answer, so Mark continued.
“I know this whole poppy business is wrong and everything, but a man like Seinkevitz shouldn’t be allowed to run rough shod over poor folks who are just trying to survive. It’s not like they have a lot of choices.”
“What are you thinking, Houston?”
Mark grimaced at what he was going to say. “I just think that maybe it’s time the little guy had an equalizer.”
“And what would that be?”
“Fireworks, Mortimer. Just a little fireworks.”
“You brought something extra with you on that military transport, didn’t you?”
Mark grinned. Harley wasn’t a tough sell in the slightest. “You in?”
“Hell, yeah. The only thing is—”
Mark was a step ahead of him. “I know. The staff. We’ve got to get those women out of the mansion first, huh?”
“Well, yeah,” Harley muttered. “I don’t mind taking Seinkevitz out, but I’m not going to smoke innocent women just to get him.”
“Already thought of that.” Mark smiled his most devious smile. “Did you know some of these folks believe that giants live in the mountains?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s true. It’s an old legend that’s been around forever. I was thinking of planting a giant footprint or two beside that backdoor, maybe a few more around that chopping block, too. Some of these folks are real superstitious. It’s worth a try. Finding giant footprints right inside the compound might scare the hell out of those women. Seinkevitz could lose all his hired help.”
“Hmm. Fireworks and Sasquatch feet, huh?”
Mark shrugged. “It could work.”
It took the rest of the day and most of the night to retrieve the contraband fireworks, return to the Russian’s compound, and plant their fictitious evidence. By the time sunrise edged the eastern horizon, Mark and Harley had left an improvised giant handprint in the middle of the backdoor where the women could not miss it. They also made it look as if the giant had leapt over the wall right near the chopping block and then tried to get into the kitchen.
That wasn’t all they left.
One thing Mark had learned in a country where improvised explosive devices caused most military deaths was to make friends with the nearest EOD man. Roy Hudson, the explosive ordnance expert on the TEAM, was a real good friend. Fortunately, he was as good at building tiny, but powerful explosive devices as he was at disarming them.
The nondescript mini-bombs now hidden inside the compound were remote-controlled and packing enough SEMTEX to end most discussions. Before they called it quits, Harley insisted on adding two more video bugs up high in a tree a half-mile away.
“If we ever use this little insurance policy of yours, I want to know for sure this bastard’s got no death benefit,” he muttered as he jumped down from the tree.
Mark clapped his hand to Harley’s back. His friend hadn’t been this happy all day.
“For sure he’s got no hazard insurance that will cover this,” Mark joked.
“And his deductible is going to go sky high,” Harley quipped. “Through the roof.”
“You mean the turret,” Mark teased.
Harley gazed back at the walls of the Russian’s complex. Only the turret glowed over the top of the wall. “Guess this is what you call term life insurance?”
Mark shrugged. “Sounds more like whole life to me.”
Tired or not, he grinned as he walked back to Arza
d’s. They might never use their equalizer, but it felt damned good knowing that Seinkevitz could be dealt with if push came to shove.
And old Boris deserved a shove.
Ten
I can’t believe I’m here!
Libby had to admit it. Washington D.C. was an exciting town. Even her trepidation over her travelling companion couldn’t squash the thrill she felt when she stepped off the jetway at Reagan National. Just standing at the airport windows took her country girl’s breath away.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Dr. Clements stood at her elbow, his briefcase in hand and a rolled newspaper under his arm. Tall, blond, and handsome, he flashed a row of straight white teeth, his face beaming. Yet he took liberties, and always seemed to be inside her comfort zone.
She shifted a step sideways from him. Back off.
“It looks awesome,” she admitted, wishing she could hide her country bumpkin enthusiasm. She hadn’t known how much she loved to travel until she had moved to Chicago. The bustling energy of the Windy City made her very aware how quiet and boring her little hometown had been. And now she was in Washington D.C. She, little nobody, Libby Clifton, was actually in the place where George Washington had walked, where Thomas Jefferson orated, and where the founding fathers once lived. Excitement shivered over her shoulders and down her arms again. This is so cool!
“It is quite the city.” He offered his elbow for her to take, like she had ever done that.
Instead, she raised her hands full of her purse, the light jacket she had brought just in case, and the extended handle to her carry-on. An annoyed look crossed his features before he smiled again, but there was no way she was falling into that trap. The line between them was thick, black, and permanent.
He might be the perfect age and the quintessential catch of the year, but this was a business trip. That’s all. They weren’t a couple. No way. No how.
“Baggage carousels are on the lower level,” he said curtly. “Let’s get out of here.”
Even the walk through the airport seemed interesting. Libby found herself in a sea of international languages and people. Diversity chatted everywhere. She found herself craning to see beyond everyone and everything to the city outside. The nation’s capitol energized her. It even smelled different.
“Excuse me.” She paused at one of the souvenir kiosks as they hurried past.
“Yes ma’am?” The young man behind the counter stepped into the concourse to assist. His dark skin and eyes betrayed his mid-eastern culture. “How can I help you?”
She pointed with her one unencumbered index finger to the view outside the broad plate glass window, aware that Dr. Clements stood next to her huffing his irritation over the delay. “Is that the Washington Monument over there?”
The young man turned to the view outside and then back to her, his face full of a wide open smile. “Why yes, it is. Is this your first time visiting Washington D.C.?”
“It is.” Libby was making a spectacle of herself; she just couldn’t stop. She was that kid on her way to the county fair with too few coins in her pocket and so many rides.
“We have a shuttle to catch.” Dr. Clements latched onto her elbow, tugging her back into the flow of passengers. “We don’t want to miss it.”
“Thank you,” she called back to the friendly clerk as she was pulled away.
“You are most welcome,” he called after her and waved. “Enjoy your visit. It is a wonderful city.”
Gently, Libby extracted her elbow from Dr. Clements’s stern grasp.
“If we miss this shuttle, we’ll have to wait for the next,” he muttered.
“I’ve never been here before,” she explained. “I wanted to—”
“There’ll be time for sight-seeing later,” he snapped, but then he must have thought twice. He offered another one of those dazzling smiles that she saw right through. “Don’t worry, Miss Clifton. I’ll take good care of you.”
His presumptuous words made her skin crawl. Yeah. I just bet you will.
After picking their bags off the serpentine baggage carousel, Libby and Dr. Clements walked outside the ground level doors to wait for their hotel shuttle. The October afternoon weather was perfect. Glancing over at the line of waiting taxi and hotel buses, she noticed the metro train pulling to a stop on the upper level track. This one headed west. She made a mental note. I need a metro schedule. Maybe I’ll stay a couple days longer. Maybe I’ll—wait. What am I thinking?
Dr. Clements had taken a seat on a concrete bench. He sat with his nose in his newspaper again, unaffected by the sights and sounds like she was. Libby bit her lip. That wouldn’t work. Any mention of an extended stay would complicate things. He would stay, too, and Libby knew where that would lead. He might think she was interested in him. They would have breakfast together, travel the metro together, and he would assume that I’m-in-control-and-I-know-what’s-good-for-you boyfriend persona. He might even touch the small of her back like he had any right to, and he’d toss those lingering looks in her direction. Dr. Clements had already tried most of those moves at O’Hare on their outbound flight. It was only Monday. She was already tired of dodging him.
Never mind. I’ll come back some day when I’m on my own. Later. A lot later.
Their hotel shuttle arrived, and soon she was onboard a speeding bus destined for Crystal City, Virginia. Even that name sounded magical. Pulling up to the hotel, the driver announced his schedule. The shuttle bus ran every half-hour with stops at the airport and the King Street metro station. Her ears perked up. Maybe there was a way to see something besides the inside of her hotel room and Dr. Clements’s disgruntled face.
The power struggled ensued the minute the shuttle driver unloaded their luggage. Darn. Clements was a smooth operator. Latching onto her roller bag, he belted it to his suitcase and proceeded to take her small carry-on as well.
“I can carry my own bags,” she said, trying hard not to sound annoyed as she followed like some good little girlfriend behind him.
“Already got it.” He smiled that cheesy smile again. “Let’s get checked in, shall we?”
There it was again. That word. We.
Libby gritted her teeth. There had to be a polite way to get through to this guy.
Check-in went smoothly, like she had a choice. He’d stepped up to the counter and tossed his VISA card to the clerk. When it was her turn to register, the clerk smiled and said, “Your companion has already checked you in.”
“Excuse me?” Libby turned to Dr. Clements.
“Don’t worry. It’s all university expense. We’ll sort the details later.”
The woman at the counter handed both room key cards to him, still smiling.
“No.” Libby stood her ground, handing her credit card to the clerk. “My room goes on my card, and I want my own key. One will be enough, thank you.”
Dr. Clements exhaled a long-suffering sigh when he turned to the confused clerk. “Excuse me, but it appears my companion will cover her own room. Please reverse those charges.”
Once check-in was corrected, Libby faced the man she had just aggravated. “I like to keep close track of my own expenses. That’s just the way I am.”
He nodded one curt nod toward the elevator. “Point well made. Lead on.”
“And I’ll take my suitcase if you don’t mind.”
With a moment of drawn out hesitation, he studied her before loosening the belt on his bag and handing over her luggage. “You’ve got quite a stubborn streak, Miss Clifton.”
“Not really.” She softened her attitude. He was, after all, her department head. It wouldn’t do to alienate him right off the bat. “I do prefer making my own way though.”
They boarded the elevator in silence. A prickle of unease commenced at the second floor when he didn’t get off. It increased at the third floor, but by the time the elevator doors opened at the fourth and final floor, she was concerned.
He wouldn’t have reserved the room next to mine, would he?
She glanced at the sign that directed her to her room, number four-eighteen. He turned with her, following close behind. At room number four-eighteen, she was in trouble. He had stopped too. At four-nineteen. Directly across the hall.
What a snake. He did this on purpose.
Libby focused on her key card, opening her door as quickly as possible. She rolled her suitcase inside and glanced toward the man who was quickly becoming a bigger problem than she’d anticipated.
Dr. Clements stood with his door barely opened. He looked smug, and that aggravated her all the more. She’d run the risk of facing him every time she stepped one foot into the hall.
“Would you care to join me for a drink?” He nudged his door open further with his foot, his invitation clear. The man was suave, she had to give him that. He looked good in his business suit, his blond hair trimmed and neat, and his body always spritzed with whatever that nice aftershave was. The snake.
She shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t date co-workers, and I don’t drink.”
And then because this unexpected development frazzled her last nerve, she shut the door in his face.
What was I thinking? Why’d I say that? He hadn’t asked for a date.
Now her rudeness compounded the problem. For all of one second, she deliberated opening her door and apologizing for her abrupt behavior.
I can say it slipped. It did, kind of. Not.
Instead, she slid the chain lock into place and flipped the deadbolt as quietly as possible. Her fingers trembled. She didn’t offend him. He offended her.
He seemed to interpret even the simplest courtesy as a come-on. She didn’t want to hold his arm, he shouldn’t have paid for her room, and he certainly should not have booked a room across from hers. Good grief. The man should be in a room on ground level, the back dock if this place had one, or at least way down in the parking garage. Way down. He was too suave, too presumptuous, and too close.
Her confidence rattled, she turned to view her room. It was exactly like all the other hotel rooms across the country, clean, generic, and quiet. She turned the television on. Not until the room filled with the background noise of a brainless sitcom did she relax. Libby blew out a big breath, and gathered her wits. The conference was only Tuesday through Thursday. Friday was another travel day, and then she would be home. Yeah. She could make it.
Mark (In the Company of Snipers Book 2) Page 9