Frank turned towards his friend, his eyes narrowing. “They are what?!” he exclaimed.
Johanne continued, “Yeah, we got both interested and alarmed when this pattern emerged. We found that almost all of them worked for the Soviet defense apparatus sometime over the past twenty years.”
Frank was taken aback by the news his friend had just divulged. “Johanne, you said on the phone that you had some information on the Chinese. Where do they fit in?”
“Yes, Frank. Well, intelligence reports indicate that at least three additional killings took place in China. These victims, too, were Soviet ex-patriots. They were from the southern regions of the old Soviet Union, near the Chinese border. We surmised that when the Union dissolved, they must have felt more at home in China than they would have felt in Europe. Anyway, Frank, one of our working theories is that these men were intelligence agents still working for the Russians, but that’s just a guess. Beyond that, we’ve also heard rumblings of a scheme being hatched by a few of the Chinese generals. Our feeling is that these Generals have something to do with these hi-tech assassinations, but we don’t know why, and we don’t have a clue as to what they are planning.”
“No clues at all?” Frank asked.
“Not really, Frank,” Johanne answered. “Our best way of finding out what they’re up to, is to get someone inside this ring of assassins, which, thankfully, we have finally accomplished.”
The car pulled up to Frank’s hotel.
Johanne held out his hand, which Holden shook. “I’ll pick you up later for dinner,” he said. “You can rent a car here at the hotel if you want to get out for a while. In the meantime, I’ve got some things to do at the office so I should be back here, say around seven,” Johanne said looking at his watch. “We can go over some of the case files then.”
“Thanks, my friend,” Frank replied, opening the car door, “I’ll see you then.”
Holden got out of the car and proceeded to check in. Once he got to his room, he took out a legal pad, fell back on the bed and started scribbling as he thought to himself. “Number one, what are these Chinese up to? Number two, why would they be using independent assassins to kill people in the hi-tech field? Normally, they would be trying to recruit them.” Progress was finally being made on his case and he was getting answers, but the questions kept coming. Frank’s eyelids soon grew heavy and he drifted off into a late afternoon nap.
* * *
The abrupt ringing of the telephone pulled Frank out of his dream and back into his hotel room. He awoke and looked around, slightly confused as to where he was. The clock read seven P.M... Frank reached to answer the phone when he realized he had overslept.
“Johanne?” Frank asked. Upon hearing the response, he continued, “Yeah, I overslept. Come on up, I just have to take a quick shower.”
Holden hung up the phone and got up off of the bed. He left the door to his room ajar, and started for the bathroom. Five minutes later, he was stepping out of the shower when he heard someone knocking at the door.
“Frank?” he heard his friend call.
“Come on in Johanne, I’ll be right out,” Holden yelled from the bathroom.
Frank finished drying off and dressed. Tucking his shirt in as he came out of the bath, he stopped when he saw the look on the Interpol commander’s face. “What’s up, Johanne?” he asked his friend.
“I just got word that we may have found your ex-CIA man,” Johanne answered.
“That’s good news, isn’t it”, Frank responded still noting Johanne’s look.
“Not really, Frank. Evidently, he made an attempt to take out Simon.”
“What!?” Holden exclaimed.
Johanne continued, “He not only failed, he may have compromised one of our agents in the process. Grab your stuff we need to get back to my office.”
Holden was a little taken aback by his friend’s gruffness.
“I’ll fill you in on the way,” Johanne finished. The Interpol commander held the door open for Holden as he passed through.
“Now what?” Holden thought as they got into the car and headed towards downtown.
* * *
“Nine months! Nine months of working to get someone inside and it could all be blown because this hot dog had a vendetta!”
Johanne was venting. Holden and several of the commander’s lieutenants were seated around a conference table full of files, and were all equally feeling the heat from the commander. Directing his next question to one of his underlings, he asked, “Can we salvage the operation or do we need to bring them in?”
“We aren’t sure yet. Our communiqué was brief and we were asked to wait for an update,” the man reported.
“How soon for the update?” Johanne asked.
“We don’t know, sir. We weren’t told,” his lieutenant answered.
Johanne, in better control of his temper now, gave his orders. “We need ideas, contingencies to offer. They need to be ready for me when we are contacted. O.K. everyone, let’s get to work, I want everything ready within the hour.”
The men around the table rose and adjourned.
“Frank?” Johanne beckoned.
“Yes, commander,” Holden answered, addressing his friend in the formal manner required under the circumstances.
“Will you join me in my office?” he asked, turning from the room.
“Sure,” Frank answered.
Holden left the conference room after the others and followed Johanne. As Holden walked, he watched the other agents scurrying around the office, gathering in small groups as they prepared to come up with their contingency plans. Once they were in the office, Johanne shut the door and took a seat behind his desk. Garrett sat across the desk from the commander.
“Frank, tell me everything you know about this Garrett Adams. And I do mean everything,” he added.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Garrett and Kit rose from their seats and stood as the train, in its preparation for the next stop, started to decelerate. It had been almost thirty minutes since their confrontation in the subway tunnel. They had changed trains several times since, and had stopped only briefly so that Kit could make a phone call. Both had made attempts to speak to the other during the ride, but neither could seem to find the right words to break the ice. Instead, looks were exchanged between the two as they rode through the labyrinth of tunnels under the streets of Paris. When they stepped off of the train, Garrett was the first to speak.
“Mind telling me where you are going?” he asked rather tentatively.
“To a safe house I have set up,” Kit answered, continuing to walk straight ahead.
“Near here, is it?” Garrett pressed.
“Not far. About another ten minutes,” Kit replied.
“Are we going straight in or are we going to circle in?” Garrett kept up.
Exasperated, Kit stopped, faced Garrett and replied. “Really Garrett, please give me some credit. I know it’s hard for you to deal with, but I have been out in the field all this time and I can handle myself just fine, thank you.”
Having been sufficiently admonished, Garrett held up his hands, “I’m sorry Kit. You’re right. I’m the one who’s out of practice.”
Kit softened a little. “Garrett, I know we have a lot to talk about, but let’s save that until we are safe and can relax. O.K.?” she pleaded.
“Works for me,” Garrett answered.
“Good,” she said, “I need you to be on top of your game. And you’re right. I was going straight in, but considering what has happened, we’d better take the indirect approach.”
From that point on, the rest of their journey was all business. They left the confinement of the tunnel system to the openness of the streets above. Garrett recognized the area. It was a neighborhood not far from the financial district, near where he had stayed the f
irst night. The sky was just starting to show the first signs of light and the streets were fairly quiet. A few tourists were in the area, some getting an early start, others just getting in from a late night out. The area was perfect for what they wanted; very public, with a choice of places to lose any pursuers.
Garrett smiled to himself, and watched Kit cross the street in front of him, while he continued straight ahead. She had learned well. The technique they were using involved each of them taking turns tailing the other, all the time watching for signs of anyone following them in turn. They made their way through the quiet streets of early morning Paris, turning down one street, then another, occasionally doubling back on their route. Garrett started to enjoy the drill, especially since he had no idea where they would end up.
Finally, they turned up a street of residential units. Garrett watched Kit as she strolled down the opposite side. As she neared an old carriage door in the middle of the block, she casually reached out with her hand and unlocked a normal sized door, which had been cut into the larger door. She stepped in and disappeared. Seeing this, Garrett continued down to the next block, crossed the street, and doubled back. No one else was on the street in either direction. When he got within a few feet of the door, he noticed it had been left partially ajar. Pushing it open, he stepped in, shutting it firmly behind him. He was standing in an archway, an open courtyard before him, with doors leading to apartments on both sides. Kit stepped out of the shadows, lowering her weapon, as she recognized Garrett.
“Looks like we made it,” he said. “No one was on the street when I doubled back.”
Kit managed a smile. “Follow me,” she said as she turned and went through one of the doors in the archway. Garrett followed her up three flights of stairs to a third-floor apartment that overlooked the courtyard. It was a simple place, a one-room studio with a separate kitchenette and bath.
“Who knows about this place?” Garrett asked.
“No one,” Kit responded. “As part of my agreement to go undercover, I was allowed to set up my own refuge. My superiors didn’t like it, but like I told them, it’s my life on the line, not theirs.”
“Kit, I don’t want to be critical, but you can’t see the street from here,” he said, looking out the window to the courtyard. “How would you know if you were about to be ambushed?”
Kit smiled, “Garrett, you’re not being critical. You’re being smart and that’s why you’re still alive and standing here talking to me now. There are two units other than mine on this floor, and they both face the front. The people who own them rarely use them. On the way up, I’m sure you noticed the noisy stairs on that last flight coming up from the second floor.”
Garrett listened as Kit talked and walked around the room. She reached down and turned on a small TV mounted in the corner.
“I also have a miniature camera mounted in the hall,” she continued, “So, I can hear and see anyone coming up here. And,” she walked to the window overlooking the courtyard, opening it, “I can get on the roof and out of shooting range within seconds.”
Garrett smiled and clapped his hands politely, “Bravo, Kit, bravo.”
Kit bowed and accepted the compliment. They both laughed. After a moment Garrett spoke. “Kit, it sure is great to see you. You may not want to hear this now, and I have a hard time admitting it, even to myself, but I have missed you.”
“Garrett, please don’t go there right now, not this quick. You walked out of my life years ago, you bastard. You hurt me.”
Suddenly there were tears streaming down her face. Garrett stepped forward and wiped away the tears.”
“I should have married you,” he said softly.
She looked up at him, regaining her composure.
“Garrett, you wanted someone to settle down and raise a family with. I loved you, but I couldn’t be that person. I like what I do. You know that.”
“Yeah, the career woman all the way, I remember,” Garrett responded. He looked down and took her hand. “I tried to find ‘that woman’ to settle down with, but no one stimulated me the way you did. For one reason or another, I became bored with them all.”
Kit looked at him inquisitively, “There was no one Garrett? In all this time, no one?” she asked.
“No Kitten. Not one. At least not until recently. I thought, maybe, I had met ‘the one’, but that fell apart, crashed actually. That’s part of the reason I’m here.”
Kitten wiped her eyes and stepped back a little. “Just why are you here Garrett? When I heard your voice in that room, I almost jumped out of my skin. You’ve always had such a way of making an entrance,” she laughed.
“You have a bottle of wine in that cabinet?” Garrett asked, “I’ve got some story to tell you.”
“Sure do,” she answered.
Kit went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine. The two laid on the bed while Garrett started bringing her up to date on the events in his life over the past few months.
* * *
Over an hour later, an empty wine bottle laid on the floor beside the bed and Garrett had finished telling Kit everything.
“I had no idea these people had been infiltrated. I hope I haven’t screwed things up,” he said.
“You had no way of knowing Garrett, but you are responsible, so you need to help me with this mess,” she said playfully. “You were always better at figuring things out than I was anyway.”
Garrett nodded. He rolled off the bed, stood, and started to pace.
“OK. Let’s get started, Kit,” he began, “First, no one in Simon’s organization knows we’re together. Right?”
“Right,” she answered.
“He wasn’t expecting me to show up, was he?” he asked.
“No, Garrett. You were a total surprise.”
“Where is he now?”
Kit replied, “He went to Germany for a few days.”
“Do you have any way to contact him?” Garrett continued.
“Not directly,” Kit said, “I’ve not been involved with his organization long enough, but I can contact my team leader. She can get in touch with him.”
“Good, is there any kind of check-in schedule? Could they know what has happened?” he asked.
“They know,” Kit replied, “I’m sure they know. If they don’t now, they will soon.”
Garrett squeezed his nose with his thumb and index finger, “Where’s your phone?”
Kit got up and grabbed her PCS phone from a drawer.
“This is what you need to do,” Garrett started, “Call your team leader and tell her what has happened. Tell her a crazy man stormed the place and killed everyone except you. Tell her you were shot yourself and have been running all night. Tell her you need to be brought in.”
“I’ve been shot?” Kit asked.
“Yeah. In the shoulder,” Garrett answered.
Kit stared at Garrett.
“It’s my turn now, Kit,” he said. “If you want to live, do as I say. I’ll make sure I just graze you. It’ll hurt like hell and leave a scar but if you sell this right, at least you won’t have these people chasing you, too.”
Kit turned and walked away from Garrett, getting herself ready for the phone call she was about to make. In one smooth motion, Garrett pulled the silenced pistol from his belt, aimed and squeezed off a round. The bullet found its mark, barely grazing Kit’s left shoulder. She screamed and fell to the floor.
“You bastard, Garrett! I wasn’t ready for that. You bastard,” she gasped.
Still on her knees she turned herself around so she could see him. Garrett’s icy gaze seemed to strengthen her and, grimacing in pain, she grabbed the phone off of the floor and dialed the number.
Garrett stared at her on the floor, not allowing himself to have any feeling for what he had done. He was operating on instinct now, and if they were going to catch Simon
and both live to tell about it, he had to be just as ruthless. As he listened, he was impressed at how well Kit was doing with her team leader. Pain is a hard thing to fake. He knew what he was doing.
Kit finished the call and hung up the phone.
“She’s calling in the cleaning team and contacting Simon. She’ll call back in a few minutes with instructions.” Kit looked down at her bleeding shoulder.
“Sorry, Kit. But I had to do it. You couldn’t waltz back into that crowd without a scratch. You’d be dead within a minute.”
“I know Garrett. You’re right again. You’re always right,” she repeated, a slight bit of sarcasm in her voice.
“You said she was calling in a cleaning team?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ve seen them operate a couple of times over the past few months. They really are quite efficient. Those bodies you left behind and any evidence of trouble will be gone within the hour.”
“Let’s hope we never become recipients of their services,” Garrett said.
“Yeah. Let’s hope,” Kit agreed.
The phone rang, interrupting them. Kit looked at Garrett, took a deep breath, and answered.
“Hello?”
“Uh huh.”
“OK”
“Yes. I understand.”
“One hour?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Kit hung up finishing her conversation.
“Well?” Garrett asked.
“I’m to meet with her near the Bastille. From there I’ll be taken to a safe house. Simon is coming back later tonight to meet with me personally.”
“You sure you want to do this?” Garrett double-checked.
“Garrett!”
“All right,” he said. I had to ask. He opened the door, “Let’s get going. I’ll get there just ahead of you. When you’re picked up, I’ll follow you in. Tonight is going to be the surprise of Simon’s life, and the end of it.”
“This time I hope you’re right,” Kit said, following him through the door.
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