by Marcus Wynne
“No, Mama,” Ilse said. “Ilse’s favorite thing is a peach ice!”
“Peach ice? That sounds good,” Isabelle said. “What do you think, Mama Marie? Would an ice be good on this warm afternoon?”
“I would prefer a mango ice,” Marie said. “Would you like to try one, Ilse?”
“No, Mama!” Ilse said, laughing. “I would like a peach ice.”
“Then ice it is,” Isabelle said. “Let’s get dressed and go get some.”
The two women dressed and then dressed their child for the street. They went upstairs to the main deck of the barge, and holding hands, the three of them crossed the gangway that connected the barge to the small dock that led up to the street. Swinging Ilse, laughing with joy between them, two of the most dangerous assassins in the world walked their daughter to the ice cream store.
“Here’s your chance,” Hans said. “They are out and moving and they are talking about going to the gelateria two blocks up. They go there often in the afternoon with Ilse.”
Charley and Dale looked at each other. Charley spoke first.
“It’s your call, Dale. Go for it now or not?”
Dale looked at the monitor and pressed his elbow against his side where a Glock 19 was tucked inside his pants.
“I call it now,” he said. “Let’s do this thing.”
The two men inserted like a hunter killer team. The streetwalkers of the surveillance team formed a very loose cordon around the Twins and their child; they made the boundary of the moving target. Then Charley and Dale inserted within that boundary and followed a block behind the Twins. There were streetwalkers in front of, alongside, and behind the Twins, a full-force show with every operator Hans had out to keep the dancing cordon invisible to the Twins, who weren’t looking for surveillance but concentrated instead on delighting their child.
Charley felt the familiar pang of adrenaline as he spotted the two women ahead. They stopped for a moment outside the Italian ice cream shop, then went inside. He and Dale slowed their pace, took their time on the approach. They walked slowly past the ice cream shop and saw the two women and their child inside ordering their cones. Charley and Dale paused in front of a tobacco shop and watched the front of the gelateria. The Twins came out, their daughter between them, all three occupied with their cones. They stood outside the shop for a moment, and then began to stroll back toward their houseboat.
“Okay,” Dale said. “We follow, and we’ll take them after they cross the street on the block where their boat is.”
“Roger that,” Charley said. “After they cross the street it is.”
Isabelle saw the surveillance first. When she came out, she saw a man and a woman on the other side of the canal and recognized them from before, when they had been walking. They were lingering outside a clothing store that was closed for inventory, looking in the window. To the casual looker, there was nothing amiss. But it seemed to Isabelle that they were looking too intently at nothing, and the paned glass of the store provided an excellent reflecting surface to watch the front of the gelato shop while keeping their backs to it.
But the tip off was when the couple began to walk back toward the barge with them. Then a single man in a jogging suit came walking up quickly behind them, passing them, and when he did, the couple slowed, and then turned off on a side street. The woman looked back over her shoulder and then quickly forward and continued on, tucking her hands into her companion’s arm.
It looked like a surveillance handoff. All of Isabelle’s situational awareness antenna went up. She and Marie had not survived many long years in the field without having a finely tuned sense of what was going on around them, and they built on the woman’s intuitive sense with the foundations of situational awareness and training. She looked casually around her. There were two athletic men a half block behind them, walking in tandem but not speaking to each other. Closer on the same side, a woman strolled along, looking in shop windows but not lingering, moving at the same pace as Isabelle and Marie. In front of them, another couple, walking hand-in-hand, stopped to look in shop windows, but only those at such an angle that they could see the sidewalk behind them.
They were in the box.
Isabelle fought down the sudden stab of fear in her belly, and quickly thought through her options. If they were the subject of a surveillance, and it appeared that they were, there wouldn’t be any violence without more indicators. It was important not to let the surveillance team know they’d been made, or else the countermeasures they’d take would make the surveillance harder to spot the next time around.
If there was a next time.
And then there was the question of who? Who would be mounting such a large-scale surveillance operation against them? Comeback from a past operation? That was most likely. She thought immediately of the young Arab and the controller she had yet to meet. Anger came out of her fear and she fed it with images of what she would do to the Arab if it turned out to be the case. She scanned the area ahead to the houseboat. There was a bench they often stopped at in their afternoon strolls, where the two women could sit with Ilse between them and watch the passersby, their backs to the water.
That would be a good vantage spot.
“You notice how Isabelle is looking around?” Charley said.
“Yeah. You think she made us?” Dale said.
“I don’t know. Hans’s people on the other side of the canal made a clumsy handoff just now, and I think Isabelle might have spotted it.”
“Damn it.”
“She’s playing it cool if she did. Check her out. She’s doing a three-hundred-sixty-degree scan and disguising every move,” Charley said with admiration. “This woman is a total pro.”
“What do you think they’re going to do?” Dale said.
“I’m betting she stops short of the houseboat and looks for signs of the team settling in around her. That’ll be her cue. She won’t let on that she’s seen anything, but look at her shoulders: she’s getting pissed.”
“Then we’ll brace her there.”
“Isabelle?” Marie said. “What is wrong?”
Ilse looked up first at Marie, then at Isabelle. Isabelle reached down and stroked her child’s jaw and said, “Eat your ice, darling, before it melts.”
Then she looked at Marie and said calmly, “We’re in a box. Three to our rear, one across the canal, two in front of us.”
Marie stopped. “Where do we move?”
“We’ll stop here,” Isabelle said. She gently nudged their daughter between them and sat down on the weathered bench. “This is a good spot, eh, Ilse?”
“Yes, Mama,” Ilse said. She sat, with their help, between them, her gleaming patent shoes winking in the bright sunlight as she kicked them back and forth, back and forth.
Isabelle saw the two men behind them and recognized them for what they were. They had all the signs: athletic build, hair cut short but not too short, comfortable clothes, shirttails out to conceal weapons. But what gave them away was their own intensity. Now she had to decide what that meant. She and Marie were unarmed. They kept a few weapons concealed in the houseboat for emergencies, but went out unarmed when they were home. She felt her shoulders tensing and deliberately drew in a deep breath to calm herself.
“If anything happens, take her and go,” Isabelle said softly.
“Take who and go, Mama?” Ilse said.
“Nothing, little one. Mama is just babbling,” Isabelle said.
Marie nodded and shifted her feet under her so that she could get up quickly.
The two men came on and there was no doubt who they were looking at.
“She’s made us for sure,” Charley said.
“We’ll play it cool,” Dale said.
“I hope she sees it that way. Do you think she’s armed?”
“I don’t think so.”
Dale drew himself up and then took a deep breath, deliberately letting his shoulders droop and his posture slump. He made sure to keep his hands well clea
r of his waist and his hands open. Charley followed his example as Dale smiled and stopped well short, seven yards, from the two women who studied him intently, all pretense of not seeing him gone.
“Hello, Marie. Hello, Isabelle. And hello to you, too, Ilse,” Dale said.
“Hello,” Ilse said. “Who are you?”
Isabelle got to her feet, her weight forward over the balls of her feet, her hands relaxed and open at her side.
“Oh, these are some old friends of Mama’s, darling. Marie, take Ilse on home while I visit with our friends,” she said.
“No need for Marie to run off, Isabelle. We don’t want to take up too much of your beautiful afternoon,” Dale said. “We just want to speak to you about Minneapolis.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Isabelle said, crossing her arms across her chest and letting one hand rise to the corner of her mouth. Marie placed one hand on Ilse’s shoulder.
“Your daughter is beautiful,” Charley said. “But how could she not be with two such beautiful mothers?”
“Thank you,” Ilse said.
Marie’s mouth was drawn thin. Ilse looked at her, puzzled.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” she said.
Isabelle moved slightly and placed herself in front of Marie and Ilse. “This is not a good time to talk. This is our family time.”
“Like I said, Isabelle, it won’t take much time. It’s just talk. That’s all we’re here for today,” Dale said.
“Talk about what?” Isabelle said.
“Your last project. You were put onto something protected by people you don’t want any trouble with. We represent those people,” Dale said.
Isabelle was silent, her hands still bladed into a covert ready-position for unarmed combat. “And?” she challenged.
“And no one means you any harm,” Dale said. “But we want you to walk away and leave the project alone. That’s all.”
Isabelle stood still. A slight tremble in the outer muscle of her thigh came and went. She looked at Marie, then back at Dale and Charley who stood well back, their hands in the open.
“Your friends,” Isabelle said. “They’re American, too?”
“Yes,” Dale said.
“I see. That wasn’t known at the time of the project. In fact, we were told otherwise.”
“We’re aware of that,” said Dale, who had been unaware of that until she told him. “The people who put you onto that project were not fully forthcoming. They didn’t tell you all they knew.”
“I can see that now,” Isabelle said. “What about our investment in the operation so far? Surely the people you represent understand the nature of our business.”
“We are authorized to discuss a payment for your full understanding of our position and to compensate you for expenditures you’ve had. We understand the nature of your business,” Dale said.
Isabelle looked around and carefully noted the position of the surveillance team that had her and her family boxed in.
“I can see that,” she said lightly. “Perhaps Marie and Ilse should go home now, and we can continue this conversation?”
“That will work,” Dale said. “Nice seeing you again, Marie, and meeting you, Ilse.”
“ ’Bye, Ilse,” Charley said. He smiled and waved at the little girl.
“I’ll be along shortly, Marie,” Isabelle said. “I’ll just stay and chat with our friends. You take Ilse home now.”
“Of course,” Marie said. Her tone was flat. There was fear in her but it was changing into anger. She took Ilse by the hand and walked quickly away. It wasn’t lost on her that the surveillance team stayed put in a loose ring around her lover. She had been let go, and she walked quickly to the houseboat.
Isabelle watched her family go, then said, “What shall I call you?”
“We don’t need names, Isabelle,” Dale said. “I hope that we won’t need to meet again after this.”
“Yes,” she said evenly. “I hope so, too.”
“How much for you to walk away?” Dale said.
“One hundred fifty thousand in US dollars. Cash,” Isabelle said.
“That’s a lot of money,” Dale countered.
“We have put a lot of effort into this project. And surely the US government considers that small change?”
Charley grinned. He liked this woman.
“You realize what the people who brought you this intended?” Dale said. “They were hoping that you would be killed during the project. It would save them money.”
“The thought has crossed my mind,” Isabelle said.
“We have an interest in those parties,” Dale said. “If you could provide us the contact information, I could get you your hundred and fifty K.”
“That’s not viable,” Isabelle said. “It’s not the nature of our business to give up our employers . . . no matter how careless they may be.”
“It may be difficult to get that much money without something more to sweeten the pot,” Dale said.
“It would be difficult for us to continue to work, for people including the people you report to, if it became known that we gave up such information, no matter what the price tag.”
Dale watched the woman’s face. She was deadpan and intent, carefully focused on watching him and he felt her sharp awareness probing for weakness in him.
“Perhaps you’d like to consider it further?” he offered. “Think on it overnight? You don’t want to keep Marie and Ilse waiting. Maybe Marie would think differently.”
“I’ll do that,” Isabelle said. She uncrossed her arms and deliberately put her hands into the deep pockets of her slacks. “Tomorrow, same place, same time?”
“Yes,” Dale said. “Same place, same time.”
“You should try the gelato,” Isabelle said. “It’s quite good.”
“We have no other choice, Isabelle,” Marie said, trying to soothe her enraged lover. “Give them the Arab and let it fall where it will.”
Isabelle stalked from one side of their narrow living room to the other. Ilse was quietly playing in her room, and the sound of her came to them over the lapping of water against the side of the houseboat.
“They came to us in our home,” Isabelle said through teeth clenched to bite back her rage. She fought to keep her voice low so as not to upset Ilse. “In our home. They have us any time they want us. This is comeback from the Arab and his handler. I told you there was more to this than meets the eye.”
She took a deep breath and calmed herself as best she could. She looked at Marie, drawn up into a ball, hugging her knees, pressed tight in the corner of their couch, and she felt a pang.
“How are you? Are you all right?” she said.
Marie shrugged and said, “As well as can be expected. I’m worried for Ilse. She knows something is wrong.”
“We must keep it from her.”
“As best we can. We need closure.”
“I should just give them the Arab,” Isabelle said. “They offered to pay a hundred fifty thousand dollars. It’s not much . . . I told them it was for our out-of-pocket expenses on the Minneapolis contract.”
“That goes some way,” Marie said. “But what we need is for this to be over. And the Americans gone.”
“But we still have to work,” Isabelle said. “If we give them the Arab, they can put us out of business . . . they can spread the word that we sold them the Arab.”
“We can counter that. We don’t know that they will. They need it to be over as well, and they’ve warned us instead of killing us. They could have had us killed, and where would Ilse be?”
“Americans wouldn’t kill Ilse.”
“Where would she be, Isabelle, without us? With my mother? We need to think about that. We have a chance to walk away with some money to see us there.”
Marie paused and hugged herself tightly as though fighting a chill. “The Arab will be contacting us for the meeting with his controller soon,” she said. “How about this: we don’t give them the Arab, we lead t
hem to the Arab and let matters fall where they will. They have us on a close surveillance now and they’ll be watching us. We can give them the Arab that way and no one will know the difference.”
Isabelle stroked her jaw and crossed her arms across her chest. “That would work. I won’t use the computer here, I’ll go to the cyber café and check the e-mail. I’ll make sure they’re following me.”
She crossed the room and sat next to Marie, gently pried her hands from around her raised knees, and pulled her close.
“It will be all right, my love,” she said softly. “Soon it will be like it was before.”
AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS
Unlike Youssef, Ahmad bin Faisal enjoyed his trips to Amsterdam. He sampled the fleshy pleasures in a house of prostitution that specialized in discretion, and so was popular with visiting politicians and other celebrities. On one occasion he’d found himself sharing the sitting room with a famous senator from the United States and an aging rock star, each preoccupied with the woman of his choice. In this instance, he’d arrived two days before his meeting with Youssef to give himself a chance to enjoy some of the pleasures that went with his rank. He took full advantage of the leeway afforded by the operation. He strolled the narrow streets, enjoyed the sunshine, took coffee in a sidewalk café, bought a book in a bookstore, and lingered in yet another café for a long while before he went to an Internet café and paid for the use of a computer. He drafted an e-mail to Youssef detailing the particulars for their meeting. Since the weather was good, he decided to meet outside, and set their rendezvous at the tourist information center just outside the Central Train Station. They could walk and talk in relative security, as the open plaza and the surrounding area made countersurveillance easy. He sent the message, then went back out into the sun and found a place to read his book and enjoy his day.