The Opening Chase

by Cap Daniels

  David wrinkled his brow and pulled open his desk drawer, withdrawing a pair of chrome tweezers with an Atlanta Braves emblem on the butt. David really was die-hard and not just a fair-weather Braves fan.

  I took the tweezers and lifted the hundred-dollar bill from my shirt pocket. I placed the bill on the center of his desk and watched it curl at the ends, trying to return to the shape it had known in the roll in Yuri’s pocket.

  David stared at the bill then looked up at me. “Where did you get this?”

  I didn’t answer. He was nervous about it for some reason, and I was going to find out why.

  “Tell me what you know about that bill, David.”

  He reached for it, but I pushed his hand away before he could touch it.

  “Don’t touch it,” I demanded. “The last fingerprints on it belong to someone I need to ID.”

  “Where did you get this bill?” His tone was more insistent this time.

  I shook my head. “You first, David. Tell me what you know about the bill. There’s clearly something about it that makes you nervous. I’ll tell you where I got it after you tell me everything you know about it.”

  David stood, and his large frame cast a shadow over his desk and me. In two strides, he covered the distance to his office door. It would’ve taken a normal man four steps to cover that distance, but David was no normal man. He firmly closed and locked the door, then closed the blinds. He returned to his desk and lifted the bill carefully with the tweezers. He pulled a magnifying glass from his desk and closely examined both sides of the bill.

  I was anxious to hear what he had to say, but he was in no hurry to show his hand. He lifted a roll of clear film from his desk drawer and placed it on his blotter before placing the bill in the center of the film. He carefully dusted the bill with a chalky black powder and lifted two very clear fingerprints. He placed the clear tape containing Yuri’s fingerprints on a white index card and made a small note in the corner. He slid it into a yellow envelope and sealed it firmly.

  David grabbed the bill with both hands before I could stop him. He squeezed and slid the bill between his fingertips and sniffed it. Then he held it close to his ear and listened while he rolled it between his fingers. Finally, he tossed the bill back onto his desk, leaned back in his chair, and pulled the bottom desk drawer open. He produced two tumblers and a bottle of Glenlivit eighteen-year-old scotch. He poured three fingers for each of us and slid mine across the desk. I graciously accepted and lifted mine in a silent toast.

  “Talk, David,” I said just before touching the rim of the glass to my lips.

  The scotch was warm and creamy with just the right amount of bite. It tasted perfect, exactly as the distiller had intended.

  David took a long swallow and sighed as he placed the tumbler on his desk. “Okay. Obviously, you know the bill is counterfeit, so there’s probably not much I can tell you that you don’t already know.”

  I didn’t know it was counterfeit. I hadn’t even suspected that it might be, but I wasn’t going to show my hand just yet. “Obviously, but there’s more to it than it simply being counterfeit, isn’t there?”

  He stared into the golden liquid. “Yes, Chase, there certainly is. Not only is it counterfeit, but it’s an extremely good counterfeit. In fact, it’s one of the best counterfeits in the world. We believe there to be about half a billion dollars’ worth of these floating around the world. They were produced in Moscow with plates that were stolen from the Bureau of Engraving and Printing.”

  I was stunned, but it appeared that David didn’t know how lost I was. I just feigned boredom.

  He continued, “About fifteen years ago, an employee of the Bureau stole the plates and sold them to a Russian intelligence officer for five million dollars. Then he disappeared.” David took another drink. “The thief’s body washed up in France beside the English Channel a few weeks later. He had a bullet hole in his head, and we never recovered the plates. It’s impossible to know exactly how many bills the Russians printed using our plates, but needless to say, with so many bills of that series in circulation, it would be a Herculean task to sort out the real bills from the fakes—even if we had every bill of that series in our possession. When it comes to counterfeiting, it’s one of the most horrific events to have ever occurred in the American financial system.”

  Something about the whole scenario made David very nervous. I wanted to know what was going on inside his giant head.

  “Okay,” I said. “We both know it’s counterfeit. You know where it was printed. What I want to know is why that makes you so nervous.”

  David withdrew the bottle from his drawer again and refilled his glass. He leaned the bottle toward me, offering a refill, but I shook my head.

  “It’s not the counterfeit bill that makes me nervous, Chase. It’s the fact that you showed up here unannounced with it after hiding eight million dollars that I placed in your account in the Caymans.”

  Ah, so that’s it. He doesn’t care about the counterfeit. He cares about the eight million bucks he can no longer control. Anya was right. Moving my money is the best possible thing I could’ve done.

  It was my turn to kill a little time while coming up with something to say, so I swirled the remaining whiskey in my glass. “Come on, David. You know I couldn’t leave all that money in one place. Only an idiot would do that. I know I’m still a rookie, but I’m not completely naïve. Leaving that money in an account that you and who knows who else has access to would be childish and foolish. David, David, David. You know I’m neither a child nor a fool.”

  David peered through the tiny slits between the window blinds. “Chase, you know you’re making a lot of people nervous. You got lucky on your first big job and you got a big paycheck, but there are a lot of people who are upset that you aren’t back in the field working after all the time, money, and effort we put into training you.”

  “I don’t give a damn who’s upset that I’m the one getting shot at, getting his tongue cut in half, and getting chased all over the ocean by God knows who. Everywhere I go, it seems that some mystery man is waiting there to tell me some cryptic bullshit that I’m supposed to figure out. The whole world seems to know where I’ve been and where I’m going long before I ever know. Let them be upset. I’m the guy who finished the job that no one else was able to accomplish.”

  David didn’t respond as I expected. Instead of being taken aback, he grimaced and crossed his arms. He looked as if he was about to tell me that my dog had died. “Well, some of what you just said is true, but there’s something you need to know.”

  I didn’t know what was coming next, but I knew what I’d been through already. I’d been shot at, stabbed, had my tongue filleted, been pursued all over the Caribbean, and most importantly, I’d killed Suslik and chopped him into shark food in Havana Harbor.

  “Chase, Suslik was spotted in Gibraltar and Zurich after you allegedly killed him in Havana.”

  I was stunned. There’d been no doubt that I’d dragged Suslik from the deck of Barkov’s yacht and watched his body disintegrate in the propeller of the dinghy. He was dead—graveyard dead, as my father used to say. My mind raced through the night’s events with the whole scene playing in my head as if it were happening on a movie screen. It was perfectly clear. Nothing had gone wrong. Well, almost nothing. I should’ve killed everyone on the boat. But without a shred of doubt, I knew that I’d killed Suslik, the feared Russian assassin.

  “That isn’t possible,” I said. “David, I watched him die. Dmitri Barkov and two hookers watched him die. He’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

  “I know, Chase. I know. Suslik isn’t human. He’s some kind of ghost.”

  I interrupted him. “Why does everyone keep saying that? There are no ghosts. He was just a man, and now he’s a dead man.”

  “It isn’t that simple. We have confirmed sightings of him after your night in Cuba, but that isn’t all. Two of the sightings happened within an hour of each other over a
thousand miles apart. I’m telling you. He’s a damned ghost, and you can’t kill a ghost.”

  I sat stunned in anger and disbelief while I tried to make sense of what David was telling me. It was impossible to believe.

  “When and where were the last four sightings?” I asked.

  David suddenly looked concerned and confused. “I have no idea, Chase. I’m not in that loop. I’m just a banker. What are you thinking? Don’t make things worse by doing something crazy.”

  I stood up, placed two fists on the edge of David’s desk, and firmly said, “I’ll call you in two days, and you’ll tell me whose fingerprints those are on that bill. Thank you for the scotch.”

  31

  Three of a Kind

  After landing at Dulles Airport, I took a taxi to CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. When I checked in with security, it appeared that getting in to see Michael Pennant wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped.

  “My name is Chase Fulton. I’m here to see Michael Pennant. He’s expecting me.”

  The security officer looked me over with scrutiny. I stood motionless, staring back at him.

  “Please have a seat, Mr. Fulton. I’ll notify my supervisor that you’re here.”

  The security specialist was commanding, but I wasn’t going to yield. “I’ll just stand right here while you make that call.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Sit down, sir. Someone will be with you shortly.”

  I placed my palms firmly on the countertop. “Look. I know you have no idea who I am, and you have no way to know that Mr. Pennant is waiting to see me, but let me make this very clear to you. If you like your job and want to keep it, you will find a way to get someone on that phone who has the authority to get me through Michael Pennant’s door. I’m very good at making a scene. If it comes to that, Director Pennant will know, without any doubt, that it was you who kept me from seeing him. I don’t know how much money you make, but it’s considerably more than you’ll be making when you’re flipping burgers at the diner around the corner. I’ll stand right here while you dial that phone.”

  He glared at me, but I didn’t blink. He picked up the phone and dialed a combination of numbers. “This is Pierce. I have a man here who claims to be Chase Fulton and is demanding that DDO Pennant is expecting him.” The security officer waited impatiently while something was happening on the other end of the line. He said, “Yes, sir . . . yes, sir . . . but . . . yes, sir.” He placed the receiver back in the cradle. “Someone will be with you soon, Mr. Fulton.”

  Soon wasn’t soon enough for me, so I pushed my luck a little further. I looked at my watch and paced back and forth for less than a minute. The security officer never took his eyes off me. It was time to make him more nervous than he already was.

  I pulled out the card Pennant had given me in the Caymans and hopped up onto the counter in front of the security officer. I reached across the desk and grabbed his phone. He quickly reached to stop me, but I sharply redirected his grasp and caused him to stumble clumsily into the counter. I pressed the heel of my left hand into the back of his neck and held his face firmly against the countertop in an awkward and painful-looking position. I didn’t envy his predicament.

  I dialed the handwritten numbers from the card into the phone and pressed the small speaker button.

  The phone rang once and a voice came on the line. “Michael Pennant.”

  I released the security officer and let him stand in silent disbelief. “Michael, Chase Fulton here.”

  There was a brief pause before Pennant replied, “Mr. Fulton, it’s good to hear your voice. How are you, and what can I do for you today?”

  “Well, I’m down here at the security station waiting to see you, and this security guard doesn’t want to let me get past Checkpoint Alpha. His name tag says Officer Pierce. Do you know Officer Pierce, Michael?”

  “Put Officer Pierce on the line,” came the brisk reply from Pennant.

  “Oh, he can hear you. You’re on speaker,” I said.

  “Okay,” said Pennant. “Look, Officer, Mr. Fulton is a personal friend of mine. I’ll send an escort for him immediately. You are to discontinue any action you may have initiated to the contrary. Are we clear?”

  The dumbfounded security officer stammered, “Yes, sir.”

  “See ya soon, Michael.” With that, I pressed the button to disconnect the call. I patted Pierce on the arm. “No hard feelings, huh?”

  He glared at me as he wiped the blood from his lip where the countertop had made quite an impression.

  I chuckled. “Repeat after me, Pierce. Would you like fries with that, sir?”

  He showed me a finger just as a sharply dressed young man appeared with his hand outstretched.

  “Mr. Fulton, please come with me. Director Pennant is waiting for you.” The suit shook my hand with confidence and led me back through the doorway.

  I said, “That Pierce is a nice guy. Do you know him?”

  The agent smirked. He deposited me in the office of the DDO in less than two minutes, and I was surprised to see how meager the surroundings were. I don’t know what I expected, but I certainly thought he would’ve had wraparound windows with a view of something spectacular, as if there was anything spectacular to see in Langley, Virginia.

  “Chase, how good it is to see you. What brings you to D.C.?” Pennant asked with more than a hint of suspicion in his tone.

  I motioned to a chair. “Do you mind if I have a seat? We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Of course, of course. Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything?” he asked.

  Without answering, I sat in the offered chair. It was far more comfortable than the airline seat in which I’d spent the last four hours of my life.

  “Mr. Pennant,” I said, “I’ve recently learned that the man I killed in Cuba has been spotted in Switzerland and Gibraltar. I also understand that those confirmed sightings took place less than an hour apart. I want you to know that there’s no way that’s the same man I encountered in Havana. My man has long passed through the digestive system of a thousand sea creatures by now. I know you’ve been briefed on the mission, and I know that I made a few mistakes, but leaving Suslik alive was not one of those mistakes. I should’ve killed Dmitri Barkov and the two hookers who spotted me, but I tried to stay within the operational parameters of the mission and kill only my target. I watched his body get torn to bloody shreds beneath the propeller of the boat I was using, so I’m certain he’s dead.”

  Pennant cleared his throat. “I know, Chase. I know all about the op and the things you left undone. That doesn’t concern me. What concerns me is that you were paid handsomely for a job that is now under close scrutiny. There’s no question that Suslik has been seen, photographed, and even audiotaped on numerous occasions since your visit to Cuba. This isn’t the first time he’s appeared to be a ghost.”

  “Ghosts don’t exist,” I said. “The only reasonable explanation for any of this is that Suslik is a twin, at least, and more likely a triplet. How better to strike fear in the hearts and minds of enemies than to have three identical, deadly assassins who show up randomly and simultaneously around the globe?”

  Pennant replied, “Of course, you’re correct, Chase. That’s the only explanation, but that doesn’t negate the fact that you were hired to eliminate Suslik, regardless of how many of him there are. As we discussed in Georgetown, you don’t work for me yet, so that means I can’t arbitrarily send you hopping all over the globe with guns blazing at anyone who looks like a bucktoothed Russian. That’s not how this works.”

  “I’m not suggesting that you send me anywhere. I’m not here for permission or orders. I’m here to gather every ounce of intelligence you have on Suslik. After I’m confident that you’ve shown every tidbit of knowledge you have about him— or them—I’ll disappear, and I’ll send you pieces of his body until you believe you’ve gotten your money’s worth.”

  “You can’t just waltz in here and demand to be read in on thing
s like this,” he said. “That’s not how we operate here.”

  “Look. I’m going after him. I don’t need or want your blessing. What you want is to erase Suslik from the planet. I’ve proven that I’m the man who can do that. Now, you can either help by giving me the information I need, or you can sit back and let me stumble around in the dark for the next few years until I figure out how to kill all of them. Now, Michael, which will it be?”

  He picked up his phone and pressed a button near the top. He spoke softly into the handset. “Bring the Anatoly Parchinkov file.”

  Almost before he returned the handset to its cradle, through the office door came a perfectly divine woman of perhaps thirty-five. She carried herself with poise and grace, and she ignored me. I watched her come in, place the file in Michael’s hand, and disappear. It was almost as if she were an apparition, floating when she walked. I was impressed.

  Pennant placed the classified file into an innocuous, manila pouch, and tossed it into my lap. I let it land on my thighs without moving my hands. Learning to avoid reacting to my environment was one of the most difficult skills I’d mastered, but it turned out to be incredibly valuable.

  “There you go, Chase. That’s everything we know about Anatoly Parchinkov, a.k.a. Suslik. You can read it in my conference room just through that door, but that file cannot leave this building.”

  Pennant pointed toward a door that looked like an entrance to a broom closet. I lifted the thick file from my lap, and without a word, I rose from my chair to begin learning everything I could about my prey.

  When I opened the file, I found two dozen photographs tucked inside an envelope. I spread the photographs out on the table and scrutinized every image, searching for minuscule differences in the shape of his chin, the distance between his eyes, the size and precise location of his ears, and any other detail that might give away the fact that Suslik was actually more than one man.

  Most of the photographs had been taken from a great distance with a very long lens, but there were three that had been taken by an arms dealer who was once a CIA asset. Those three photographs were taken with a very good camera, directly in front of Suslik. I rummaged through the conference room in search of a magnifying glass, but I found nothing that resembled one until I saw the cut decanter and set of eight etched whiskey tumblers on a silver tray.