When Victoria finished primping, she took a small rag from her purse and proceeded to carefully remove all of the fingerprints she had left around the room, knowing full well that if any were discovered, it could mean her life. The blonde assassin then took out a pair of surgical gloves and carefully started searching the room. Moments later, while looking through Lee’s shaving kit, she found what she was looking for. She took the miniature DVD computer disk, put it into her purse and began removing her gloves. She paused. She couldn’t quite shake a nagging resolve that the find was much too simple for such sensitive information. Her victim had been employed by a government intelligence agency in the past; finding the disk in his shaving kit had been way too obvious, entirely too easy, or is that what he had wanted someone to think?
She began to go through his belongings again. Every stitch of clothing was felt, every corner of his luggage searched, every pair of socks turned inside out. Still, no other disk could be found. She continued to search the room with the skill of a practiced professional—still nothing. Puzzled, she was about to leave when she noticed his spare pair of dress shoes. Victoria had been with enough businessmen to know that they packed light, especially this one judging from at the rest of his wardrobe, so why an extra pair of dress shoes? It wasn’t as if they were so different from those he had worn that evening. In fact, they were almost identical to the ones he had recently kicked off his feet.
Something was out of place. She picked them up each one, pinching and pulling until she noticed that the soles needed replacing but the heels were new. The assassin smiled knowingly as she pried the heel off of the left shoe. A look of satisfaction came over her, as the heel released its hold revealing a secret compartment. “Geez, this guy had to be a fan of the oldest spy movies in the world,” Victoria thought, hoping this was not another attempt to trick her.
After retrieving the miniature disk, she replaced the heel and dropped the shoes to where she had found them. Walking to the thermostat, the assassin turned the air conditioning as low as it would go to help mask the odors the corpse would be releasing in the coming hours. The killer then removed her gloves, and left the room inconspicuously, hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle as she closed the door; so ready to put an end to this job and return home. A few moments later, she stepped out of the lobby of the hotel onto the street outside. She had barely taken a few steps when a man on the sidewalk roughly bumped into her and kept walking, not bothering to apologize.
She turned and yelled back at him, “Watch where you’re going, jerk!”
‘The man with no name’ didn’t even break his pace as he continued down the street, feeling the bulge of her purse clamped under his arm inside his jacket. The team had accomplished their mission and would soon be returning home. He would have the honor of taking the stolen disk back to their boss.
* * *
Thirty-five minutes later, an explosion rocked Olympic Park in downtown Atlanta. Acrid smoke filled the air and screams of fear and pain could be heard. The sanctity of the Olympic celebration had been violated and within minutes, all of the security forces, investigators, and media personnel in the city converged on the scene. No one would be thinking or caring about the deaths of two hotel patrons that very same evening. The media would see to that.
A few blocks away, the man with no name looked out of his hotel room to the action in the distance. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched the flurry of activity.
“That will give everyone something to remember,” he thought to himself.
He stood observing the scene for a few more moments. He smiled. Then he laughed and turned away.
* * *
The next night, three passengers on an Air France 747 looked around the cabin and were satisfied to see that their other partners had made it. They each, in turn, settled back into their seats and adjusted their pillows. In a few hours, they would be back in Paris for their debriefing and, with any luck, be rewarded with some well-earned time off.
CHAPTER
TWO
September, 1999
The young man walked down the hall of the health club thinking about his day training clients. As he approached the main gym, he could hear the echoing sounds of wrapped fists and bare feet plunging against a heavy bag. Rounding the corner and walking through the entrance, the trainer spoke.
“Twenty minutes, Mr. Adams.”
The man in the gym grunted his acknowledgement and the young man turned to leave. Standing in one corner of the massive room, Garrett Adams went through a well-rehearsed routine of attack. His eyes alternately opening and closing, he practiced moves intended to punish or cripple an opponent. His grace camouflaged the deadliness of his targeted strikes. Suddenly, the pace of his attack peaked into a crescendo of punches and kicks. Then it was over.
Perspiration dripping from his brow, he stepped back a few feet and sat on the mat, crossed his legs, and took several deep breaths as he began to meditate. His daily workouts were often an exercise in controlled rage, and this time of reflection after the staged fight, allowed him to gain control and later return to the realm of the civilized world.
Fifteen minutes passed; Garrett opened his eyes, unfolded his legs, and began to stretch. The subtle pain he felt reminded him that the years were starting to catch up to him. Just shy of forty, his joints weren’t as limber as they used to be. At the tender age of twenty, Garrett recalled his elders telling him just how fast the years would go by. How right they had been; it seemed the advice had been given only yesterday.
Finished for the evening, he stood and headed for the showers. As he walked, towel in hand, he stopped to look, just briefly, at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t a vanity thing; he was just inspecting the goods. Still trim, his well-built frame stood just over six feet. He proudly claimed most of his original thick, dark brown hair and his green eyes were still bright and unhampered by glasses. “It could be a lot worse,” he mused. The sound of his pager interrupted his train of thought. He returned to his locker and looked at the display. “Damn!” he muttered. It was the office. He reached for his phone and dialed.
“This is Garrett,” he announced.
He listened as Mark, one of his employees, spoke to him.
“Uh huh,” he affirmed, listening to the reported news. He sighed. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Hanging up the phone, Garrett proceeded to the showers. Another night and he had to go back to work. It wasn’t as though he really minded. He owned an international consulting business and strange hours came with the territory. Besides, another relationship had just gone bad and he was a little lonely. Immersing himself in his work helped keep his mind occupied. Garrett showered, dried and dressed, all in a matter of minutes, never allowing his thoughts to wander too far from the task he’d need to complete when he got back to the office.
With briefcase in hand, he headed to the parking lot, hopped into his car, and started driving to his offices in Buckhead, on the northern border of Atlanta. “Ten years! Ten years,” Garrett thought to himself as he drove. It had been that long since Garrett left a career that had required him to travel extensively all over the world. He had moved to Atlanta and started his own business, hoping to settle down, get married, and have a normal life. Instead, he had been in and out of several long-term relationships throughout the years. By all counts, Garrett had succeeded in every facet of his life, save one. Happiness and contentment in his personal life had continued to elude him, no matter how he tried. He was beginning to believe that maybe he was one who wasn’t meant to have that kind of life.
The sedan pulled into the parking lot of the office complex and Garrett steered to his parking place. “Nothing like another night at the office,” he thought as he approached the building. He was met at the door by one of his assistants who worked the late-night shift.
“Sorry to have to call you in, sir,
” the woman apologized as she dutifully opened the door. “One of the overseas contractors is pitching a fit and would only talk to you face-to-face over the Internet.”
“Is he in one of his moods?” Garrett inquired, shaking his head in frustration as his assistant nodded her agreement.
“Yes, this should be fun,” he said dryly, taking a seat before the camera and computer monitor. Thirty minutes later, Garrett signed off and leaned back in his chair. This particular business associate was always looking for an angle, trying to interpret their arrangement in a manner more advantageous to himself. Garrett would have none of that, however. Having graduated with honors from the University of Virginia, it was obvious that he possessed the intelligence to succeed at anything he to which he devoted his energies. Beyond that, life with his father had made him much wiser than his years. One would have to be quick on their feet to outflank him. However, this particular client also wanted to buy the business from Garrett, for cash. While Garrett wasn’t looking to sell, he still had to take that into consideration during these late hour sessions. He turned off the lights in his office and checked in on his assistant. “All taken care of, Karen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, sir,” she replied.
Garrett walked out into the early autumn night and headed for home.
* * *
Two nights later in the crowded stadium, fans leapt to their feet as the ball went through the basket. The Atlanta Hawks were winning yet another game at home. After several years of suffering through bad seasons, they were now enjoying their best home record ever. Across the floor from the home team bench, in one of the better sections of seating, two of the fans, smiles on their faces, and beers in hand, yelled their approval with the other fans. Garrett and Charles had been season ticket holders for the past ten years and were relishing the team’s recent success.
Garrett’s friend, Charles, was a partner in Curtis, Jackson, & Blye, a local law firm. His six-foot frame, dark eyes, and black hair made him look more like a television celebrity than a lawyer. His southern charm and twisted sense of humor also made him popular with the ladies. It was his ability to think quickly on his feet had afforded him the rewards of a successful litigator. He certainly wasn’t one you’d want cross-examining you.
Charles had noticed something distant, something different about his friend, when they had first met almost ten years ago. Sometimes, he thought he could see within Garrett a certain wildness, something just out of reach in Garrett’s eyes, almost like a window into a troubled past. But as soon as he thought he saw it, it would disappear. Garrett had never really spoken about his life before he moved into town. The attorney had never pressed the issue. To him, people’s pasts didn’t matter; it was how they were now that counted. One thing he did know was that Garrett’s placid exterior camouflaged a penchant for adventure. Maybe that is what attracted Charles to his friend. Garrett would let his adventurous side loose now and then, putting the attorney in awkward situations, keeping him off balance, just this side of center. Charles hated to admit it, but he actually enjoyed the position of being out of control every now and then. Garrett’s devilish smile could be quite disarming, and, together, the two had quite a reputation around town.
The final buzzer sounded and both men rose, clapping with the other celebrating fans. The Atlanta team had won once again. As the other fans rose to leave the game, the two men grabbed their sport coats and headed towards the exits. Approaching the car, Garrett spoke, “Hey, lets go out for a while and celebrate. We haven’t been out during the week for a long time.”
Charles responded in protest, “Garrett, you forget, I’ve got a deposition the day after tomorrow on which I require some pretty heavy preparation. I don’t have time for this anymore.”
Garrett kept it up. “Yeah, right. Are you getting old or something? I remember when we used to go out every night of the week, meet up with some women, and stay out till the wee hours of the morning. We both still managed get up and kick ass the next day.”
Hearing Garrett’s need to get out, and being a bit sensitive about his age, Charles relented just a little. Perhaps he needed an evening out on the town as much as his friend.
Garrett meant no harm with his teasing. He knew his challenges kept his friend feeling young, confident, and powerful, qualities the attorney needed to provide him the upper hand in a courtroom setting.
“What did you have in mind?” Charles asked tentatively.
Garrett smiled to himself. The fish had taken the bait. “Well, you remember seeing the news a couple of weeks ago about that nightclub that got raided for illegal gambling, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Charles answered cautiously.
Garrett went on, “Well, I heard is opened again and thought maybe we could stop by there and check it out.”
Charles almost choked on his words. “Are you crazy? That’s all I need. I can picture it now. Atlanta Attorney Busted In Local Nightclub for Gambling.”
Garrett fired back, “Relax, Charles. They’ve closed down the gambling and it’s just a regular bar, now.” He looked at the apprehension on his friend’s face, and continued. “Besides, I heard a lot of the Europeans, who stayed around town after the Olympics, hang out there.”
Charles shot Garrett a sideways glance. “Somehow I have a feeling you are once again going to drag me into some sort of trouble,” he protested weakly.
Garrett smiled. By this time, they were on the Interstate and he was the one driving both the car and the selection of this evening’s entertainment. Of course, he was headed in the general direction of the club. He knew he would have his way. Charles, after all, was not that strait laced. He had been working too hard and both of them knew it. So Garrett wasn’t surprised when his friend relented.
“All right. We’ll go in for one, count ‘em, one drink!” he said, holding up a finger. “That’s it. No more,” he emphasized.
“That’s more like it,” Garrett replied smiling. He wasn’t one to frequent bars very often anymore. But he was bored and tonight his interest simply lay in the fact that there might be something happening, and if there was, he wanted to be right in the middle of it. Garrett smiled to himself as he pressed the accelerator and sped down the highway toward their destination.
* * *
As the waitress left the third round of drinks on the table, Garrett turned to Charles.
“So much for the ‘one drink’,” he said with a slight slur. “You keep ordering these martinis and I’ll be the one not able to work tomorrow.”
Charles smiled at his friend, “What’s wrong, guy? Can’t keep up with an old man?”
As two of them laughed, Garrett looked around the room. It was a sharp crowd and he was glad that the two of them were dressed in sport coats and slacks. Anything less and they would have been under-dressed. He was about to speak again when suddenly, he sensed something was happening across the room. Looking up, he couldn’t see anything obvious. It was what he heard, or more specifically, a change in the din of the crowd noise that had caught his attention.
“Hey, I’m talking to you,” a voice said from across the table. Garrett’s concentration was broken and he turned back to Charles who had a sarcastic look on his face. “I come out with you to have drink and conversation and you want to chase skirt.”
Garrett shrugged, “What can I say?” responded, a smirk on his face. “Sorry, about that. By the way, I’ve got to tell you one I saw on the Internet today.” He began telling his friend the joke, but about halfway through, he had the same sensation again. There was a presence in the room; the feeling was palpable. He stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked in the direction he thought he should. Still nothing. Then, he noticed people turning, and a murmur in the crowd coming from near the bar area. Suddenly, Garrett caught a glimpse of a woman walking across the room. Then, just as quickly, she disappeared behind a group standing in
conversation. Garrett strained to see her again. There! She came out into the open and stopped, giving Garrett an unobstructed view of her. Like those in closer proximity to her, Garrett’s eyes were drawn to her as a moth to light. The sounds of the club faded into the background of his mind as his gaze locked onto her face. Charles turned to see what had captured his friend’s attention and had obviously lit such a fire in his spirit.
Both men were now both studying the woman from across the room, but the practiced skills of observation within Garrett made his study more intense than his friend’s. He studied her as he sat, noting everything about her. He noted from the combination of her light olive colored skin and ebony eyes, that she was of mixed race. Her eyes flashed with life as she looked around the room with the elegance of royalty. Garrett couldn’t have noticed at the moment, but more heads throughout the room were also turning in her direction.
“My God, Garrett!” Charles offered. “Now that’s a woman I’d like to meet!”
He looked at his friend who was still staring in her direction. Garrett was about to respond when her eyes floated over the room and locked on his. The intensity of the look between them could not be mistaken. Garrett’s muscles became taught, like a lion about to pounce on its prey and her head tilted down slightly in a succumbing gesture. It was apparent that the attraction was mutual and Garrett stood, accepting her invitation for a more intimate inspection. As he closed the distance between them, the disconnect from his surroundings became more amplified, making him feel more as if he were levitating, not walking. Their eyes remained locked during this brief time, each mutually interested in investigating and thoroughly experiencing the other. Finally, the space between them had been closed.
Millenium Strike Page 2