Chris worked his way back to the front of the building. Frank had managed to pull himself up into an office chair and rolled along the wall with his back to the open window.
“Cover and shoot?” Frank asked.
Chris nodded.
Frank inhaled slowly. Then, faster than he looked capable of, he flung his rifle around through the shattered glass and fired. Though it seemed as if he was shooting haphazardly, he was careful to fire only into the ground. No casualties would be his doing. Chris didn’t hesitate. He propped his elbows up on the windowsill and methodically took out three of the remaining combatants. The last man, seeing he was alone, dropped his rifle and took off running through the trees. Chris lowered his M14. Frank reached a hand out to help Chris up and promptly collapsed forward on top of him.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Ned said, taking a second to gulp down the last of his Scotch, “are you telling me … you shit your pants?”
Frank gritted his teeth, glaring at Chris, who was hiding his grin behind a similar glass of whiskey. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t tell anyone that part.”
“It’s just Ned,” Chris said, placing his glass on the table. “And besides, anyone who has ever been shot in the ass will tell you, you’re going to evacuate your bowels. It’s just part of the deal.”
“Yeah. Problem is, the evacuation wasn’t caused by the shot.”
“What was it caused by?”
“The explosion. Propane tank going up.”
Chris and Ned looked at each other sideways.
“Okay,” Chris said. “...a loud noise made you do it. That’s fine too.”
Ned then burst out laughing in heaving guffaws, his face turning bright red. “Frank ‘hardass’ MacDougal pooped his pants in Anakar babysitting the freakin’ embassy boys. That’s a hoot.”
Frank growled and signaled the bartender to bring three more drinks. “At least I’ve done that much for my country.”
“Aw, hell, Frank,” Chris said. “You know he’s just messing with you. If it hadn’t been for you, I might not have survived it.”
“We both know you’re the one who saved my life that day, Chris,” Frank said solemnly. “I’ll never forget that.”
He reached across the table and the two men clasped hands. There were some bonds that Chris had formed during his time at the CIA, and his days as a naval officer before that, that would never be broken.
“Okay, okay, get a room you two,” Ned said, screeching his chair back from the table and standing up. “Speaking of taking a dump, where’s the bathroom in this place?”
Frank jerked his thumb over his shoulder, “ladies room is the one on the left.”
“Funny, Frank,” Ned said, slapping a hand on the big man’s back. “Very funny.”
“Don’t mind him,” Chris said as the waitress placed three new glasses on their table. “He might be brash, but he’s the best I know at what he does.”
“I know, I know,” Frank said, leaning forward. “Now, fill me in. What the hell is happening with you and Alice?”
“Long story,” Chris said.
Frank looked down at his watch. “Got nothin’ but time, brother.”
Chris was starting up with the long story when the waitress interrupted them with an important call from the Director of the CIA. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and realized he’d put it on silent. He had twelve missed calls.
Then he awoke.
The sun was peeking into the hotel room, casting light on Tsu’s beautifully formed shoulder as she slept. Chris sighed as he remembered the time he had been dreaming about, first in the South Pacific then back in the bar with Frank and Ned. It was a dream about friendship. He had them often.
13 Rendezvous
Tsu got up from the bed wearing only tiny black underwear that perfectly complemented her silky, tanned skin. Somehow, Chris didn’t notice any of this perfection. He was looking into her eyes, hoping to find answers.
“So, what the hell are we going to do now?” Tsu asked. Clearly, she had as many answers as Chris had.
“Well, I meant what I said to Ned last night. We can’t go treading on the toes of the CIA right away. And I don’t mean because I told the Director I would keep out of whatever was coming. We could put Haley in more danger by going in there without a real plan and no infrastructure. Especially because Ned will be trying to dictate things without a clear head. He has too much emotional investment to be involved in any kind of an operation on the ground.”
“But we can’t just do nothing, right?”
Chris paused as he thought.
“Right. And I can’t say my attention is going to be on protecting some celebrity who has probably brought any threats upon himself. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could focus on that job right now.”
Tsu nodded in agreement as she prepared some coffee.
“I’ll make a few enquiries. Old contacts,” Chris said. “I might be able to get some information that would be useful to the CIA. I’ll pass it along, that’s all.”
Tsu handed Chris a cup of fragrant and strikingly strong coffee.
He took it out to the balcony and looked out once more across the ocean, deep in thought. As he did every morning, he took out his phone and checked his emails. There hadn't been much of great interest in recent days. But there was today.
An old contact from way back; a journalist in the old-school mold who smoked too much, drank too hard, and did whatever it took to get a story. Sometimes investigative journalism isn’t too far away from spying. You need to recruit assets and get yourself into places where you’re not supposed to be so that you can rub shoulders with people who are both fascinating and dangerous. A strikingly handsome man in his younger days, Carl Hawkins had now ballooned due to his indulgent lifestyle.
His mail was typically straight-to-the-point and read:
Chris, I heard about your buddy’s sister in Africa. I have information. I have no idea what your phone number is now, but you can call me on 44819 410813.
Chris didn’t waste any time. He went back inside the suite and closed the door. As Tsu looked on, he punched the number into his phone. It went to voicemail. Chris remembered that Hawkins often did this and preferred that someone leave him a message so he could verify the caller. Chris kept it short.
“H, Chris Collins. I got your email. Your help would be appreciated.”
A call came back immediately.
Tsu could hear a deep, tobacco-laden voice on the other end of the line even though she was standing several meters from where Chris was making the call.
“Good, I thought you would say that. The fee has gone up.”
“Well, you know more about inflation than anyone.”
Hawkins paused, unsure if he was being mocked.
“Remember what you used to pay? It’s now double.”
“Fine. What have you got?”
“Where are you?”
“Why does that matter?”
“I don’t know if this is a secure line.”
“I’m using a burner phone. Old habits die hard. Don’t worry, our conversation is safe.”
“I would prefer to meet in person. If anyone finds out I gave you this information, I’m dead.” Chris looked over at Tsu, shaking his head. Hawkins had never let him down, but the journalist was also a selfish piece of work who enjoyed thrills, money, and the clandestine gathering of information much more than he enjoyed truly helping people. Whatever information he had, it was a commodity.
“Where are you?” Chris asked.
“Colombia.”
“When will you be back in the States? I’m going to be heading back there soon.”
“Heading back from where?”
“Rio de Janeiro.”
“Meet me in Colombia. We’ll have some fun. A few cheap drinks and some even cheaper laughs. Maybe even a bit of the old marching powder.”
“I don’t really have the time or inclination for fun right now. And I defin
itely don’t have the inclination to be snorting anything up my nose.”
“Well if you have the inclination to get important information that will help your friend, get on a plane.”
“Now it was Tsu’s turn to shake her head in Chris’s direction, showing him her sympathy. She already didn’t like the guy on the other end of the line.
“Where in Colombia?”
“Santa Marta.”
“That’s two days' travel. First flying to Bogotá and then somehow getting all the way across to Santa Marta. It sounds like the main reason you want us to do that is so you can have somebody to drink with for a few hours.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“I’ll have someone with me; she works with me. She can be trusted. Or should I say I’ll have someone with me if I choose to come, which I am reluctant to do. Can you really not just give me the information right now?”
“No, I cannot. But I can make your journey easier. I have made some very influential friends while I’ve been working in Columbia, and by influential I mean rich. I’ll have them organize a private plane for you. I know they operate in Rio often.”
Chris knew that if Hawkins was ‘working’ with these people, most likely in some kind of undercover reporting role, there was only one way these Colombians were likely to have gotten rich. But instead of trepidation, he felt exhilaration. Rubbing shoulders with dangerous men and women was something he had done all his life, and it had been thrilling as well as potentially deadly. He couldn’t deny that a taste of the old life was tempting.
“Okay. Give me details of the rendezvous.”
14 Say Hello
Three hours later, Chris and Tsu were standing on crumbling concrete in what could only be loosely described as an airfield, on the very outskirts of northern Rio de Janeiro. The place was surrounded by drab, gray apartment buildings that towered into the sky, and it seemed as if any plane trying to land would surely scrape the top of one of these buildings. It was clear that the airfield was disused as far as any authorized operations or safety regulations were concerned.
The plane was already thirty minutes late. Tsu, outwardly, seemed to be her usual cool and collected self. But the animated conversation that had been going on between Chris and Tsu for the last few days had entirely dried up. Getting on a plane financed by a drug cartel and boarding at a deserted airfield was not what they had had in mind for Tsu’s period of relaxation and recovery.
A low rumbling broke the silence. Chris and Tsu looked to the sky. A small plane appeared above them, the noise of its engine growing quickly louder as it descended.
As they watched the aircraft, they noticed it tilt severely to the left before the pilot corrected it. It then tipped sharply in the other direction. The state of the plane was becoming clear. It wasn’t obvious whether the pilot’s skills were lacking or the plane was in such poor condition that it wasn’t even possible for anyone to handle it properly. Probably a little of both.
After a moment’s pause to take in the scene, Tsu said:
“We cannot get on that thing.”
Chris did not reply. He was trying to do a quick assessment of the plane. But not much of an assessment was needed. The thing was a mess.
“We need the information,” Chris said. “We need to help Ned.”
Tsu turned her head sharply to look at Chris, giving away her surprise at his answer.
“Well, put the CIA in contact with your source. You said you didn’t want to get involved anyway. You wanted to leave everything to the agency.”
“This is different. I know this guy. He only gives information to people he knows personally and has worked with. He needs to build trust to hand over the high-level stuff. He’s also stubborn as hell. If I turn down this meeting after having agreed to it, he’ll probably just disappear.”
“How do you know the information is even useful?” Tsu asked over the growing sound of the rumbling engine.
“He has never let me down before. We can’t be sure of anything in this business, you know that. You also know that our business is about taking risks to get the reward. Nothing is ever easy.”
The small plane came down level with eye lines. It dropped the last few meters heavily and bounced onto the runway. The wing tilted again on impact. There was a strong smell of fuel.
“I want to help Ned as much as you do,” Tsu continued as she raised her voice over the noise of the plane, “but we need to be honest about what we’re getting into here. It doesn’t look like some rich drug lord chartering an expensive private plane. And why would he? Just for us? He sent the worst they’ve got.”
“Sorry, but I’m going. You can make your own choice. You probably don’t even need to be there. I can handle it by myself and you can walk away now.”
They both knew that was never going to happen. Tsu would never allow herself to look like she was displaying cowardice. And she would never back out of anything she had agreed to stand by Chris’s side on.
The plane was suddenly still. The doors did not open. Chris and Tsu waited. Finally, a man in an ill-fitting white suit stepped from the plane. He was smoking a cigarette but quickly finished it up and flicked it to the ground close to one of the plane's wheels. Pretty close to the fuel tank too.
“Mr. Collins,” he said without smiling. He stretched out his arm to invite Chris and Tsu onto the plane. Chris strode forward without showing any hint of trepidation. They stepped onto the plane and were engulfed in a cloud of either cigarette or cigar smoke that filled the small cabin.
Chris and Tsu sank into soft but tattered white-leather seats opposite each other at a small table.
“Can I get you a drink?” the man in the white suit asked.
“The strongest you have,” Tsu replied.
The man flashed a yellow-toothed smile then turned. He rattled around and brought out a full bottle of rum. He placed it down in the center of the table between Chris and Tsu.
“Enjoy,” he said, then walked off towards the cockpit. He seemed to be the only other person on board except for the pilot.
“Very generous,” Chris said.
He poured them each a large glass. Without any formalities, they both knocked back a hefty swig.
The plane was complaining as it chugged its way back into the sky. Something was rattling loudly.
“It’s at times like this I’m glad I don’t have any children,” Tsu said. “Having nobody in the world that really gives a shit about you can be liberating sometimes.”
Chris raised his eyebrows, and Tsu knew what he meant. But her point was a valid one. They were probably the two people who cared most about each other in the world, and they were both ascending towards an uncertain fate.
“Ned and Frank would both be pretty pissed if I got wiped out at this age,” Chris replied. “But I hope Ned gets to find out that I was doing it to help him.”
“They are good friends. You are lucky to have them.”
“You don’t have friends? I mean, that you never told me about?”
“No. No besty. I got you and Ned...if you let me be a friend and not only a colleague.”
Chris smiled as he swirled rum around his mouth.
“Well, we did plan to get together at the office party and bitch about you, but we finally decided to let you join our club.”
Chris turned and looked out of the scratched glass window. The tall buildings and famous islands of Rio were being left behind, and the plane was pointed in the direction of the Amazon. They would have to cross most of the jungle on their way to Colombia.
Chris wanted to ask Tsu why she felt the need to be such a loner in the world. Or the more difficult question of how she had ended up that way involuntarily, if that was the case. He knew a little about her background and personal history, but he had no doubt there was much more to discover.
But with more dense greenery and more vertical kilometers amassing beneath them, he realized the conversation should probably be kept a little more lighthearted.
As he was racking his brains for the right kind of lightheartedness, he saw a white suit emerge from the front of the plane. The man was smiling and holding a cloth in his hand, ready to come over and make sure the table was nice and clean. A surprisingly competent host.
The man reached over Tsu’s head and put the cloth across her mouth. Her head flopped back. The smile had gone and the man’s eyes were wide. He pulled his other hand from behind his back and revealed a pistol. It was now pointed straight at Chris’s forehead.
“Do you wanna know why I dealt with her first?” White-Suit asked.
Chris did not respond. He maintained what he hoped was a calm expression. An expression of apathy, even.
“Because she’s more dangerous than you. We know plenty about both of you. We have been informed: you’re smart; she’s tougher.”
“That’s true. She is tougher. She’s probably smarter too. Now, what do you want?”
“You shouldn’t take that tone with me.”
“Why? Because you might hurt me? I get the feeling that was already in your plans.”
“Stand,” the man instructed, his anger clearly growing due to Chris’s lack of fear. Chris did not stand. Instead, he looked across at Tsu who was slumped in her seat. The sight of her lying helpless like that enraged him, but he did not show it. He turned his attention back to her assailant.
“I said stand,” the man repeated. But Chris knew where this was going. This was not a robbery; it was somebody looking for information. Trying to find out what Chris was up to, as so many of these threatening situations in his past had been. He was no longer in the CIA, and he hadn’t been ‘up to’ anything for quite some time. This was Landsdowne’s tentacles reaching out, his network having caught up with Chris at exactly the time they were putting together a new plan even in the boss’s absence.
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