by J C Ryan
Liu started blushing and glared at Mackenzie in mock annoyance. “Well, I guess I just have to endure that hardship then.” She grinned. “I don’t need to think more about it. The answer is yes; I’ll take the job. I’d love to do this.”
The next moment Liu found her feet dangling fourteen inches off the floor again. Dylan was kissing her, and in between the kisses he started whispering in her ear, “I love you. I love you, Liu Cheun.”
Carter and Mackenzie were laughing as they scuttled out of the room when Dylan lifted Liu into his arms, giving them some privacy.
About a quarter of an hour later, when Mackenzie could hear their voices again, she called out to them from the kitchen. “Hey, you love birds, come and join us for cake and coffee in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” Liu said later while they were still sitting at the kitchen table, “I suggest instead of resigning from the University immediately, I’d rather go back and ask them if I could take a six-month sabbatical. That will give us all enough time to see how this will work out. Will that be okay with you, Carter, Mackenzie?”
“No problem for me, Liu,” Carter said. He looked at Mackenzie, who nodded her agreement. “In fact, I think it’s a very wise decision. Let’s try before we buy.”
They discussed the details of their plan for a while longer, and then Carter said, “I’ll give James a call to arrange a visit to DC for some time next week, as soon as Sean and his crew arrive to relieve Dylan and his men.
“I need to discuss this new plan with him, and get to Rick Winslow so that I can give him the requirements for the translation software he and his team have to build for us.”
Mackenzie nodded.
A few minutes later Carter was on the phone with James.
They would have been horrified to know that the moment their “secured and impenetrable” satellite phones connected, a very powerful quantum computer in a sophisticated server room, located five stories below ground on the bank of the River Seine in the 3rd Arrondissement of Paris, started recording their conversation.
Chapter 26 -
The risk-reward ratio
Mathieu Nabati had become increasingly troubled over the past few days as he read the reports and listened to the audio recordings of the activities and conversations of the Algosaibis, or the Girards, as their new passports now stated. This morning, he had a lingering uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach. They had so far given no indication that they knew about the existence of the Council of the Covenant of Nabatea or any of its activities. They hadn’t connected their laptop to the Internet at any time either, they knew or their dad must have told them what the consequences of that would be. And that was part of the reason for Nabati’s unease. Parts if theIr recorded conversations were disturbing enough to lead him to the conclusion that what else was on that flash drive would be very damaging information.
Nabati knew he had no other option, and he couldn’t wait any longer. It was a risk the Council could not accept any longer. Jean and Olivia Girard had to be silenced, and that flash drive had to be acquired and destroyed.
Before Nabati could finalize his plans, a notice popped up on his computer screen informing him about an appointment at ten a.m. the next Monday. He clicked on the message to look at the details, and a grin spread across his face as he read the names of the clients — Mr. and Mrs. Girard.
“Now what do I call this? Luck, destiny, or fate?” he murmured.
He took his custom-made quantum encrypted PDA out of his pocket and typed a message to one of the Council’s trusted assassination brokers, known only by the codename “Charlie.” Although Charlie and Mathieu Nabati had done a lot of business in the past and trusted each other explicitly, they had never met, never spoken a single word with each other, and would never do so. They knew nothing of each other, and that’s how it would remain.
All their communications were controlled through the Council’s quantum computers. There were no traces, no evidence of their dealings anywhere except on the Council’s servers, which could not be hacked by anyone on the planet. The Council’s quantum computing systems were light years ahead of anything else in the world — their purpose-built operating systems, coding languages, and software didn’t exist anywhere else, which rendered it failsafe against hacking from other computers.
Nabati’s message was short and to the point:
End Rome surveillance. Release final payment to contractor. Assign new contractor to terminate subjects when they are in Zürich. Contract price €2 million. Pictures and other details to follow after acknowledgement and acceptance.
Charlie’s reply arrived within the hour.
Acknowledge receipt. Rome contract ended. Final payment processed. Accept Zürich contract - awaiting details.
Durand did not end his surveillance of the Girards as his handler trusted he would have done. He still had a vested interest in the Girards to the tune of at least three million US dollars — the bounty on offer by the Saudis. And if lady luck smiled upon him, the money in the secret Swiss accounts. He expected that the amount in those accounts would not have been inconsequential — people didn’t keep petty cash in numbered, secret Swiss accounts.
His thoughts ended abruptly when his sixth sense kicked into action and turned his brain into a state of alert. Something was wrong with the scene in front of him in Kafi Dihei, one of the nicest coffee shops in Zürich on Zurlindenstrasse 231.
There was a short, dark-haired man three tables away who started squirming in his seat the moment the Girards stood to leave. Not coincidence. The needle on Durand’s alert-meter hit the amber zone when he comprehended why the man had his cellphone up as if he was taking pictures of the rustic interior with its antique furniture and old-fashioned tapestry. He could have fooled a lot of people but not Durand, who immediately knew the man was taking pictures of the Girards. And if he had any doubts, they vanished the next moment as the needle hit the red zone when he recognized the familiar miniature parabolic directional microphone embedded in the innocent-looking packet of cigarettes conveniently and strategically placed on the table in front of this man.
“Dammit. I’m getting sloppy,” Durand chastised himself, and he felt his blood run cold when he also realized Shorty was working for the same handler as he had until yesterday. He knew because he had a parabolic directional microphone disguised as a packet of cigarettes exactly like the one Shorty was now placing in his shirt pocket. Durand’s had been provided to him by his handler on his first contract.
It was Friday, and Durand had followed the Girards from Rome to Zürich the day before. The bugs in their room back in Rome helped him get their address in Zürich as well as their flight details. He landed in Zürich a few hours after the Girards because he first had to undergo another makeover to match his false Swedish passport and credentials, which turned him into a blond businessman named Karl Nilsson from Stockholm.
Shorty’s appearance on the scene meant Durand had to change his plans — things had become a bit more complicated than he would have liked. Instead of dealing with two untrained, unsuspecting civilians, he now had the challenge of keeping an eye on a trained professional as well. Thus far, the operator didn’t look very efficient, otherwise he would not have let anyone spot him. But Durand knew better than to underestimate any opponent.
What was this man’s brief? Can’t be more surveillance . . . or could it?
He considered his options for a few moments. The safest and probably most logical choice was to drop everything he had in mind, go back to Paris and his girlfriend, and wait for the next contract. That way he had a good chance to stay alive. But it also meant his new, earlier retirement plan had just been flushed down the toilet. Screw you, Shorty!
Another option was to forget about the money in the secret account and just try to get his hands on the three-million-dollar reward — still more than enough to fund his dream retirement lifestyle. This was also a safe option — all he had to do was follow the Girards until they reached
Paris, get all their contact details, contact the Saudi authorities, provide them with the intel, and claim his remuneration. Not a bad option at all, except that scenario presupposed that the Girards would be alive. However, it was quite possible that Shorty’s brief was to eliminate them. I could, of course, eliminate them myself and claim the bounty . . . mhh . . . too messy and too risky for my liking.
Perrin Durand’s entire life since the day he joined the Foreign Legion comprised of unremitting risk assessments and the management thereof. The reason he’d survived up till now was his ability to identify risks early, assess them carefully, consider the risk to reward ratio, decide whether to avoid or accept, and only then act or not.
“To avoid or accept this one?” he mumbled to himself.
You must go one step back. You don’t have enough information to determine the risk-reward ratio. And that was his answer — he had to gather more information before he could make his choice. Which would come to him much sooner than he would have expected.
He had an advantage over Shorty because the bugs he’d planted in Rome were still fully operational on the Girards’ laptop, mobile phones, and luggage, including Jean’s wallet and Olivia’s fancy handbag. Shorty still had to complete his surveillance, unless of course he was a really stupid operator who would take action without completing proper surveillance and risk assessment.
Back in his hotel room, on the floor below the Girards, Durand nearly choked in his beer when he heard Olivia Girard’s words.
“What are your plans once we get to Paris? You know twenty million dollars is a terrible lot of money. I know we don’t have to lift a finger for the rest of our lives, but I will go stark raving mad if I have to sit around and do nothing. I’m thinking with my Ph.D. in quantum physics . . .”
Durand didn’t even listen to the rest of the conversation.
“Twenty million! My dear Mrs. Girard, don’t you worry. I know exactly what to do with twenty million.”
The reward to risk ratio had just gone through the roof — for that money it was a risk worth taking.
Chapter 27 -
The wolves of war
In fulfillment of Dylan’s prophecy, Mackenzie’s wolves had been turning up like clockwork every afternoon around five to “inspect” progress at Camp Tala. The wolves’ appearance became the team’s cue to stop the day’s activities and spend an hour or so with their visitors. The young wolves quickly made their choices, each of them befriending one of the six men. John took it upon himself to teach the other members of the team how to train the young wolves, and it was remarkable to see how quickly all of them learned — animals and humans alike.
The parents — Loki, Keeva, and Nadia — stayed out of it, more than happy to watch while their “kids” were put through the paces. It was almost as if they appreciated the fact that someone was helping them teach the youngsters good manners and discipline.
Nadia and her offspring had quickly gotten over their reservations about the humans and joined Loki and Keeva’s family in getting the humans’ attention. Her pups had not been named yet, but the team took care of that and named them Walker and Mulligan — the surnames of EA’s commander and second-in-command, Sean and Dylan.
After a few days of watching these training sessions, Dylan had made up his mind and raised the topic with Carter and Ahote — the possibility of expanding the wolves’ training with the aim to use them on missions. The two of them were very supportive of the idea. The only remaining, and of course most important, permission required was Mackenzie’s, and seeking that permission had to wait for the right moment.
They all decided to keep the training a secret from Mackenzie, Bly, and Liu. On the next-to-last day before they had to return to DC, the team would invite them over for a surprise wolf show.
When Liam saw the secret training sessions one afternoon when he turned up at the construction site, the boy could hardly contain his excitement.
“Can Jeha and I join them? Please, Dad? John can show me how to train her. She’s a very clever dog. I’m sure she’ll learn quickly.”
Carter smiled. “Okay, but we first have to hear what John says, and if he agrees, there will be one more condition, though.”
Liam looked at his dad to hear what the condition was.
“You have to promise you won’t tell Mom, Auntie Bly, or Liu about this. Not one word until I tell you so.”
“I promise, Dad. This is our secret. I won’t say a word.”
“Good, then we have a deal. Let’s go and find out what John has to say about it.”
Carter couldn’t help but laugh quietly when he heard Liam mumbling. “I just hope Jeha can keep her mouth shut about this.”
On the afternoon of the wolf show, the six young wolves and their handlers, plus Liam and Jeha, put on a show that had Mackenzie, Bly, and Liu ecstatic as they sat, lay down, rolled over, fetched, stayed, and navigated a makeshift obstacle course, jumping over, crawling under, and going around various obstructions with apparent ease — as if they had been doing it all their lives.
What was mind-blowing to Mackenzie was the fact that they mastered all of it in such a short time and without the use of leashes or food bribes as was required in most dog training. The young wolves and even Jeha, strangely enough, were happy to perform in return for attention. A pat on the back, an ear scratch, and a “clever boy” or “clever girl” from their handlers was all they wanted.
Mackenzie didn’t require any kind of persuasion to agree to Dylan’s proposal to train the wolves for combat missions.
“They were part of our emotional and physical battles of the past year,” she said. “They kept me sane while I was thousands of miles away, they kept on nudging Carter and everyone else until they got their message through that we were alive, they guarded Freydís, and chased some intruders away. They played such a pivotal role in our rescue, I’m absolutely convinced they want to be part of our activities in the future. I get the impression their turning up here was their way of reporting for duty.”
And with that, the deal was sealed. Camp Tala was going to live up to its name — literally.
The wolves of war, John thought, as he listened to the conversation between Dylan and Mackenzie. A grin broke across his face. He knew what war-dogs were capable of, and from what he had seen so far, these wolves were every bit as capable, and probably much more than dogs. He had no doubts that if the bad guys had any idea what was heading their way shortly, they would be shitting in their combat boots.
That night over dinner, John was explaining dog and wolf behavior to Mackenzie. “The fact that this pack has chosen you is important. We tend to think we chose the animals to live with us, but that’s the human perspective. From their perspective, it’s not — they choose us.
“They allow us into their tribe because they trust us. It is difficult to prove that point with domesticated animals, but with your wolves you can see the idea seems to be correct. They are free to come and go as they please. If they didn’t trust or like us, they wouldn’t come back. Generally, wild animals don’t allow humans into their tribes. But if they do, like your wolves did, it means they have chosen you and permitted you to become part of their family.”
“What is the explanation for that? I mean they don’t really need us. Do they?” Mackenzie asked.
“There is no clear answer. It could be that they sense your friendly intensions and love for them. It could be that they see some sort of benefit in it for their own protection and survival. Maybe they know that teaming up with caring humans means there is some synergy. In other words, they can protect you with their skills, and you will protect them with your skills.”
“There is just so much that we don’t understand about these majestic creatures,” Mackenzie said in marvel.
“But we must always keep in mind,” John continued, “the wolves are not domesticated. They can be tamed, as we have shown, but their inherent temperament remains that of a wild animal.
“They hav
e learned to interact with us in a friendly manner, but their wild nature remains, and they might eventually challenge us for dominance. Therefore, we should never try to handle, house, feed, or trust them to behave like a domestic dog. There is a good chance that as they become older they’ll reach a stage where they won’t be participating with us as they do now. That’s probably why Loki, Keeva, and Nadia stayed out of it — they are too old for it.”
Mackenzie smiled. “Well, as long as they are keen to help, let’s take them up on the offer.”
And so, with the wolves’ reporting for duty, it was decided that John would become one of the first permanent inhabitants of Camp Tala. He was thirty-two and married with two children, a boy of five and a baby girl of six months. He and his wife, Jennie, had met six years before while they were both attending a military dog handler training course at Joint Base Andrews. They’d both reached the rank of staff sergeant, and both had done tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq. In addition, John had over the last two years been specializing in the support of special ops missions with the Navy Seals and Delta Force. Jennie had left the military about eight months earlier to have the baby and be a stay-at-home mom for a while. Her plan was to start an obedience training school for dog owners in their neighborhood.
John and Jennie were both raised on farms and loved the outdoors and animals. Hence, it didn’t take Sean and Dylan much to convince the two of them to relocate to Freydís. In fact, when Jennie heard about Liam and Beth, she started packing.
John would return to DC with Dylan and the rest of the team the next day. He and Jennie would finalize everything over the next two weeks and be on the next plane to Freydís.
Mackenzie and Carter were more than happy to accommodate John and his family until their cabin at Camp Tala was ready. And Liam was over the moon when he heard that he might soon have a human friend who could join him on all the adventures Freydís had to offer.