by Trevor Scott
“Are we there yet?” she said and then opened her eyes.
“On the ground at Reagan. Do you want something to drink?”
“Not rum. Maybe some ginger ale.”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Not really.”
They both saw the lights coming toward the jet, and Jake almost reacted by drawing his weapon.
Two black SUVs pulled up close to the jet. Only one man got out of the first vehicle from the rear seat. He was wearing sweats and a hoodie.
CIA Director John Bradford stepped aboard the jet and then Jake closed the cabin hatch behind them. They shook hands and then turned that into a man hug.
Sirena had gotten up now and she gave her old friend and colleague a kiss on both cheeks and then a hug. “Would you like something to drink?” she asked.
“I see Jake has his rum,” Bradford said. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
Sirena smiled and went to the bar.
Jake turned the leather swivel seats so three of them formed a circle.
She came back with a can of ginger ale for herself and a rum for the CIA director. Then they all took their seats.
“It must be pretty important to call me out on a cold January night like this,” Bradford said. “Glad we could help in Panama. Luckily, we had a team on standby heading into Colombia.”
“Yeah,” Jake said, “that was a mess.”
“You were with the billionaire from Singapore when he was shot. Do you know who did it?”
“Chinese,” Sirena said. “They’re behind everything going to hell in the world right now.”
“We’re beginning to believe that as well,” Bradford said. “Why would the Chinese kill Barnes? My intel says he had a lot of dealings with them.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about,” Jake said. Then he explained how Barnes had purchased properties around the world for the Chinese, including the island in the Bahamas.
“He was their straw buyer?” Bradford asked.
Jake said, “That’s right. Barnes didn’t have time to explain all of his dealings with the Chinese, but he said he had acted on their behalf many times.”
Sirena broke in. “Then he would quietly transfer the deed over to the Chinese after his cut, which went into one of his offshore bank accounts.”
“It might take a while for your people to unravel these deals,” Jake said.
Bradford swiveled his head and then took a sip of rum. “There’s not much we can do about private sales of land to the Chinese.”
“If it was legitimate, they would have made the purchases in the sunlight,” Jake reminded his old colleague.
“You’ve got a point, Jake.” Bradford’s eyes shifted nervously.
“You know more than you’re saying,” Jake surmised.
“That’s the nature of the game.”
Of course, Jake knew this. But he was giving more than he was getting.
Jake said, “Listen, Sirena saw what the Chinese were doing up close and personal in Suez. The Israelis didn’t hesitate to send the Chinese a message.”
Bradford turned to Sirena. “What were you doing there? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“We’ve discussed this before,” Jake said. “The Chinese are all over the Azores. From there they can host both conventional and nuclear forces, putting a choke on the Strait of Gibraltar. They can also forward base their naval craft, including subs.”
“Our subs run them off when they get too close to our shores,” Bradford said.
“They won’t need subs to strike America,” Jake said passionately. “They already have basing rights for bombers on a Venezuelan island and they’re building up their presence there.”
“We’re watching that,” Bradford said. “We can counter that.”
“Let’s back up,” Jake said. “They own much of the Panama Canal and ports on both sides of that. If we piss them off, they become trolls to the world, choking off our access to that vital shipping lane.”
“They’re trying to do the same thing with the Suez Canal,” Sirena said.
“Not to mention Djibouti,” Bradford said.
“Right,” Jake said. “But they weren’t happy with the fact that Japan, France and the U.S. also had a base there in close proximity.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” Bradford said. “How do think I feel with all of this happening on my watch? I spent most of my Air Force career countering the Soviet and Russian menace. And now I’m having to deal with another growing communist force.”
“But this one has more than a billion people,” Jake said. “Plus, growing economic strength and a hundred-year plan for world domination.”
“They’re quite a ways away from hegemony outside of their own sphere of influence,” Bradford reasoned.
Jake sucked down the last of his rum and set the glass on the arm cup holder. “That’s just it, John. They have the patience to play this game much longer than our four-year presidential cycle. They’re using the shiny object slight-of-hand on us. Look over here; we’re building islands in the South China Sea. Meanwhile, they’re taking over ports worldwide and converting them for military use.”
“What do you want me to do?” Bradford asked. “Ask the president to call in air strikes on all of their ports?”
“Not all of them,” Sirena said. “But they could make an example of one or two. Like the Israelis.”
“And that’s a risk they’re willing to take,” Bradford said. “Especially with the port the Chinese are building in Pakistan.”
“You know your history, John,” Jake said. “What did Hitler do? First, he built up his military so it was stronger than any in the world. Then he took over the oil fields in North Africa, along with the Italians. And he built a sub force that could choke off shipping around the world. Europe is weak. What if the Chinese choke off oil and other resources heading into winter?”
“They would have to have the cooperation of the Russians,” Bradford said.
“They could have a secret pact right now and we wouldn’t know about it,” Jake said. “But let’s get back to the island the Chinese just purchased in the Bahamas. Like I said, they wouldn’t have to rely on their subs off the Atlantic coast. They could secretly move in mobile missiles that could strike our east coast in seconds. And even using intermediate-range missiles, they could hit our west coast. Before they even do that, they could knock out our satellite systems, rendering us blind. We don’t have missiles to counter their anti-satellite missiles. We’ve been spending too much money in places that have no strategic military advantage instead of countering the threats of the future.”
Bradford let out a heavy sigh and drank the last of his rum. “Are you sure you don’t want to come back to work for me?”
Jake laughed. “I’ve done enough for God and Country.”
Sirena got up and took Jake’s empty glass and the empty glass from Bradford’s hand. Without asking, she went to the bar and refilled them, handing them back to each man.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Jake,” Bradford said. “I’ve brought up nearly everything you just laid out in numerous policy meetings. I think my time at the Agency is drawing near.”
“Why?” Jake said. “They need a guy like you in that position.”
“It’s not so much the executive branch,” Bradford said. “It’s the congressional oversight that’s really bothering me. It’s filled now with a bunch of communists who think the Chinese can do no wrong. Everything we fought for in the Cold War has now seeped into the House and Senate. I’m disgusted.”
“We all are,” Jake said. “Even more reason why they need you in that office.”
“You probably don’t know this, and I shouldn’t be telling you, but the Chinese are also building a base on an Indonesian island in the Strait of Malacca.”
Jake considered this, scanning the map of the world in his mind. “Then it’s worse than I thought. Half of the shipping in the world goes throu
gh those straits.”
Bradford nodded and took a long sip of rum.
There wasn’t much more Jake could do for America. The house was on fire, and he had sounded the alarm. Now it was up to the firemen to take action. Or, let the whole thing burn to the ground.
“You know about what happened to us in the Azores,” Jake said. “We tracked that down to the Chinese. They killed a number of our people across Europe. Tried to kill the both of us. I’ve dicked around long enough. For some reason the Chinese are attacking their competitors in the business world.”
Bradford broke in. “It’s not just the Gomez organization. From what I understand, it’s any company that will not sell out or be beaten fair and square in the market. The FBI has reported a number of deaths of key company personnel across America, Europe, South America, and Africa. Then they come in with extortion demands.”
“Right,” Sirena said. “Mafia tactics. Here’s what happens if you don’t comply.”
“Exactly,” Bradford said. “These are simply accusations and suspicions so far.”
“Not in our case,” Jake said. He swished his finger between himself and Sirena. “We killed the bastards that came for us. And I plan on doing my job for Carlos Gomez.”
“What can I do to help?” Bradford asked.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Jake smiled and sipped more rum. Then he continued, “Provide us intel on known Chinese operatives in Europe.”
“That list could be quite long.”
“We know,” Sirena said. “We’ll need to narrow the list to those who were likely involved taking out our people.”
Jake said, “The Chinese need to know that their actions have consequences.”
“Damn it, Jake. I really want you back with the Agency. You too, Sirena.”
Laughing, Jake said, “You know my level of tolerance for bureaucracy was low back in the day. Now, it’s nearly non-existent.”
Bradford sucked down the last of his rum and got up. “I will have my people help in any way they can. You have my word.”
Jake got up and gave his old Air Force friend a huge hug. “One more thing.”
“Yeah.”
“What can you tell me about my son?”
“Not much. He’s not allowed to check in much. I will say that he’s well respected in the Russian SVR. He’s still dating a smoking-hot GRU officer. You should be very proud of him. We’ve never had one of our own join their ranks.”
“It’s a fine line, though,” Jake said. “What’s his end game?”
This stumped the CIA Director. “It’s a work in progress.”
“Another reason for you to stay in your job,” Jake said.
“I wish it was up to me.”
“If you go, what will the Agency do with Karl?”
“Roddy will continue to be his handler,” Bradford assured Jake. “And I would personally brief the next director on Karl’s status.”
That’s all Jake could ask of the director. John Bradford could only do what he could do while in office.
Jake let the director out the door and then went back to his seat across from Sirena.
“This was news to me,” she said.
“What?”
“Going on the offense against the Chinese in Europe.”
He shrugged. “I came up with that on the flight from Panama. I’m sick of playing games. Shit just got real.”
“Alright,” she said. “Where do we go first?”
Jake checked his watch and said, “I timed a text to go to Bradford in the next few minutes, giving him the information on the other strikes against the Gomez organization. We’ll let those in Lisbon think we’ve forgotten about them. For now, we go to Dublin.”
“Awesome. I haven’t been there in a while.”
“Same here. Time for some dark beer.”
25
Dublin, Ireland
When Jake and Sirena landed in Dublin, the jet remained on the ground only long enough to refuel. Then it took off for Berlin until Jake summoned them again. If the Chinese were tracking the Gomez jet, then he wanted to make sure they thought Jake and Sirena were in Germany.
That was three hours ago.
Now, darkness seeping over the emerald isle, Jake walked slowly on the path between two lakes in St. Stephen’s Green, the large park in central Dublin south of Trinity College. Despite the late hour, the cold, damp weather, and the chilling wind from the west, there were a number of people strolling about the park—from mother’s with children, to pensioners barely moving with their canes.
Jake didn’t expect trouble, but he was always on the lookout for the unknown. Sirena was in his ear. She sat in the Ford sedan provided by Gomez, cruising slowly around the perimeter of the park.
“Do you see your contact?” Sirena asked.
“Not yet,” Jake said.
Flying across the Atlantic, CIA Director John Bradford had eventually set up a meeting for Jake with the Dublin station chief. Having read a short bio of Bill Henderson, Jake concluded the man could be trusted. Like Jake, Bill had been a former Air Force intelligence officer before joining the CIA. Considering the man was only in his late thirties, Jake guessed the guy was on the fast track to a bigger assignment with more clout. Someplace with more intelligence targets. By spy standards, Dublin was more like Boston than Berlin or Moscow.
The Gomez organization security officer killed in Dublin recently had not just been some random assassination on the part of the Chinese. Jake had personally hired the former Directorate of Military Intelligence officer following thirty years of service with J2. Jake guessed that J2 was hot on the trail of the killers, thinking the man’s death could have been related to his intelligence days. Which is why Jake had insisted on speaking with the officer in charge of the investigation in the death of Jimmy Leary.
As Jake approached the circular center of the square park, he could see two men ahead talking and checking their six. Bill Henderson was a tall man with red hair and a scraggly red beard. He was wearing a suit covered with a rain overcoat. The other man, the J2 intel officer, had his back to Jake as he approached. Finally, the man turned and Jake saw that he was perhaps mid-thirties, his black hair cropped short on the sides with a thick patch combed over left to right. Military or former military could easily identify one of their own, despite country of origin.
Henderson introduced himself and then his colleague as Liam Ryan. Jake shook the hands of both men.
“I’m on it,” Sirena said, meaning she would check on the man’s background.
“I’ve heard a bit about you,” the station chief said. “The Director said you were a living legend.”
“Better than a dead one,” Jake quipped and then saw that his Irish counterpart didn’t like the reference. “I had the utmost respect for Jimmy. I hired him. I’m sorry I missed his wake and funeral.”
“I’ve heard you were also targeted,” the Irish officer said.
“Yes,” Jake said. “Four heavily armed Chinese intel officers. What do you have on Jimmy’s death?”
“Still under investigation,” Liam said.
“But you have your suspicions,” Jake provided.
“Of course.”
Jake shook his head. “How many attackers?”
“We caught two on CCTV,” the Irishman said. “Coming and going to the alley where Jimmy was killed.”
“Chinese?”
“Asian for sure.”
In Jake’s ear, Sirena said, “Liam Ryan is a major in the Irish Army. He’s thirty-two. Wife and two kids. Do you want his address?”
“Not at this time,” Jake said.
“Excuse me?” Liam said.
“I meant, you have no ID at this time?”
“They’ve come and gone from the Chinese embassy a number of times,” Liam said with exasperation.
“Which means,” Jake said, “that you could have caught them in the act and they would claim diplomatic immunity and the most you could do is deport them.”
>
“Yes, sir.”
“Jake, you know that’s the nature of the beast,” the CIA man said.
“Yeah, but I don’t have to like it. Besides, I’m a private citizen. I don’t have to play by the same rules.”
“Easy, Jake,” Sirena said calmly.
Jake said, “Listen, I need some intel on these people. Do you have something to give me, or not?”
The CIA station chief shuffled his feet and finally said, “We believe the men are staying at a safe house only a couple of blocks from the Chinese embassy.”
Jake swiveled his head about the park, knowing there were a number of foreign embassies on the outer edge of this park—from the Aussies to the Finns. “How far is that from here?”
“It’s two blocks from the British Embassy,” Liam said. “A couple of miles from here. Toward the sea. The embassy is on Merrion Road.” Then he gave Jake the address of the safe house.
“How safe is the safe house?”
“From what I’ve heard about your background,” Liam said, “not safe enough. But you can’t go in there guns blazing.”
Jake let out a disgusted breath. “You have photos of the men?”
Liam’s gaze shifted toward the CIA station chief, as if asking for permission. When Bill gave the man a slight shrug, Liam pulled out his phone and opened a couple of pictures.
Jake seared the faces to his memory. “Thanks.” He started to leave.
“Wait,” Liam said.
Jake turned to view the young man.
“You have to know that those two men are not alone in that house,” Liam said.
“And?”
“You’re just one man,” the Irishman said, confused.
Jake hesitated, unsure how to respond to this man’s possible concern. Then he said, “Would you like to come with me?”
“We can’t do that,” Sirena said in Jake’s ear.
The Irishman said, “I’m sorry. But my orders are to simply observe and report.”
“That’s bullshit!” Jake said. “They killed your countryman. One of your own for over thirty years. You’re going to let them get away with that?”
The Irishman seemed to shrink in size from embarrassment. Jake knew that the man was only following orders, but he had no real sympathy. This was one of the reasons he had quit the Air Force and the CIA. He couldn’t control stupid decisions.