by Jan Domagala
The mole secreted inside HQ was Joanne Watkiss and she worked in Intelligence Division. At the age of fifty-four she had never been married, never seriously dated anyone and still lived at home with her parents. She concentrated on her work, important work, which gave her access to Top Secret files, as she was a senior aide to General Sinclair.
Thinking her life was exciting enough, something happened whilst on leave that proved she was wrong. She met a handsome stranger who swept her off her feet.
Being away from work on her annual vacation, she had let her guard down.
She was short at only five feet four, with a stocky build and dark hair and eyes in a face that was plain and therefore unaccustomed to having members of the opposite sex pay any attention to her. She was caught off guard one night when a tall, good-looking stranger asked if he could sit next to her at the bar. Thinking that he was waiting for someone, she agreed. When he struck up a conversation with her she was literally lost for words.
Totally charming, he soon put her at her ease and he introduced himself as David Grant. They spent a wonderfully relaxed evening, talking, laughing and she was quite surprised when she noticed the time was close to two in the morning. He, being the perfect gentleman, offered to see her to her room. Finding herself more than a little tipsy and in a euphoric mood, she agreed.
The night, of course, didn’t end there though. At her door, not wanting what was possibly the best night of her life to end, she plucked up enough courage to ask him inside for a nightcap.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he said his voice rich and husky.
Once inside any thoughts of a nightcap were quickly dispelled when he leant forward and kissed her on the lips. One thing led to another and soon they were in bed, their swiftly discarded clothes tangled on the floor.
That night she experienced what she had been missing for most of her adult life as he brought her expertly to orgasm after orgasm until, finally, they both drifted off to sleep, exhausted as dawn was breaking.
The rest of her vacation was much the same and by the time she had to return to work she was hooked.
Totally in love with a man she hardly knew, she found it unbearable to be away from him. Nevertheless they parted and she went back to work dreaming of what might have been and waiting for the call he had promised to make, but somehow never did.
After three months of waiting she had reached the point where she’d decided that their time together had been one of those things she’d often heard about but never experienced – a holiday romance. She had resigned herself to the fact that she’d never see him again when he made the call.
They met and spent the night together in a hotel and she knew then that she would do anything, give anything, for it not to end.
By the morning he knew he had her.
David Grant was in fact Captain Pavel Temic of the Elysium Alliance.
He began to ask her about her work on their weekly trysts. At first it was general interest but before long the requests for data started, small insignificant details at first to test her. When she refused he failed to turn up for their next date. The following week, though, she was there waiting with exactly what he’d asked for.
Now over a year later they had worked up to Top Secret data and she was finding it more and more difficult to cover her tracks. When this last request came in, she knew she was in trouble.
His requests for data had become more and more difficult to get away with. Acquiring what her lover wanted was not the problem as being a senior aide to the head of Intelligence Division afforded her unlimited access to Top Secret material. No, the problem was concealing her tracks so that no one would be aware that the material had even been looked at, let alone stolen.
When Grant had asked her for the Recon Delta codes it was towards the end of her working day so there was no chance to retrieve it from the computer, cover her tracks and pass the information on to him. She spent the night wondering about the consequences of her actions over the last few months. Passing on data about the project being conducted on Outpost Station Five had been a blessing and afforded her a full weekend of uninhibited sex with no thought or concern of the consequences. Later she learned that all but one of the test subjects had died. That wasn’t her fault, surely?
She was no fool, she soon became aware that her beloved David Grant had ties to the Alliance, but by that time she was past caring.
Then he asked for the whereabouts of Captain Stryder, the only survivor of the project, which she knew from various reports, had been deemed a failure. But she also knew of Sinclair’s doubts, a little fact she had kept from Grant. Why was that? She often wondered. Had her conscience started to reaffirm itself?
The attack on Stryder at his home could only have meant one thing; that it was directly due to her passing on his whereabouts to Grant, of that she was now certain. It was the first time she had been confronted with the consequences of her actions. Those consequences almost cost the lives of Stryder and Hardy, the young Marine they sent to keep tabs on him, and did cost the lives of five men who tried to capture them.
Where would it end?
Wracked with guilt she decided not to pass on the information.
Out of habit, when the opportunity arose, being left alone at a terminal, she searched for and then downloaded the data onto a data card.
Having arranged to meet him for lunch she barely made it in time. She was determined to tell him, face to face, that this was a request she couldn’t fulfil.
One look into his eyes though and she melted as usual and handed over the data card. The sex that followed was great, as always, but when she returned to work the guilt returned and she spent an hour in the toilet crying.
When someone found her in such a state she hurriedly made up the excuse that she’d had some bad news about a relative and was sent home.
As soon as Watkiss left the hotel room, Temic passed the codes onto Nokorovic via an encoded subspace burst transmission.
On receiving the data, Nokorovic smiled with relief. Now he had something of value to pass onto General Solon, which would counter balance the abortive snatch attempt on Stryder.
Now, no matter where the elusive Captain went, they would find him and this time they would capture him.
Nothing would stop them now.
11
The asset stationed on Celeron, Captain Pavel Norsky, was awaiting further instructions from Nokorovic. He was in his early thirties, what was known as a fast track officer, and hoped to be a major at the end of his mission there. He was tall, lean and handsome with black wavy hair and dark flashing eyes. His looks and easy charming manner had secured him a position in bed with many of the opposite sex.
He had come to Celeron posing as a trade negotiator who was mixing business with a little pleasure. In that way he could warrant his frequent visits into Jacksonville to recruit the troops he thought he might require and his visits to Haven, the local tourist resort. The decision to recruit local muscle rather than import some with him was a sound one at the time. Local muscle worked for money and was already on site, whereas to import some with him threw up more problems, such as having to deal with customs. What he hadn’t considered, though, was just how good Stryder turned out to be.
When he received no contact from his team, he had to figure the worst. Waiting at the rendezvous point at the other side of Haven, he learned of the failure through the local news report of an accident that had occurred on the road to the resort. The local Constabulary presumed: the three dead men found at the scene had been killed by rival gangs and an investigation was underway. He knew at once that Col Sec had doctored that statement having pulled a few strings with the Constabulary.
Although the failure was no fault of his, he knew it would be viewed as such due to his choice of agents.
There was nothing he could do but wait for further instructions. Having driven past the villa and finding it deserted, he knew Stryder had gone to ground and would be more than a lit
tle difficult to find, especially as Col Sec would be keeping a close guard on him. They might have even taken him off world; there was no way of knowing.
So he decided to concentrate on the second portion of his cover story, relax, take in some sun and behave like a tourist. Enjoy it while he could for he knew it could not last.
* * * * *
Stryder drove the CIV Champion farther up into the hills overlooking Haven down below on the coast. Hardy had picked up her things from her rental car on the way and sat back with no idea where he was taking her and with no other recourse than to sit back and enjoy the ride.
“Where are we going?” Hardy asked after half an hour of driving. Stryder had been quiet the entire time and she wasn’t sure if it was because he was concentrating on driving the large ATV or because he was working on some strategy.
“As you probably know, all Confederation worlds have safe locations which only certain personnel get to know about,” he replied.
“You’re referring to the Col Sec safe house.”
“Yes, there are four on Celeron, two in Jacksonville and two in Jamestown.”
“We’re going to one of those?”
“Yes, for tonight, until I can think this through.”
“So that’s your secret place; why didn’t you tell Sinclair?”
“Because I honestly expected to be on the run and didn’t want him to know I’d be using Col Sec facilities.”
“But with the nanochip tracer he’d have known anyway.”
“Yes, but by the time he’d sent anyone there I’d have gone.”
“That was your plan?” Hardy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Don’t start, I’m making this up as I go,” Stryder countered.
Hardy just shook her head, “We’re doomed.”
Stryder glanced across at her then concentrated on getting them to the safe house. Not far now, he thought.
By the time they reached Jacksonville it was getting dark. The safe house was in a quiet district on the outskirts of the main metropolis. All the houses were well tended in that neighbourhood and had sufficient space around them so that they were not overlooked on either side. Privacy was the watchword there and it seemed everyone who lived there observed it.
There were no families, no children running around playing in the street, which also meant no prying eyes from inquisitive youngsters. The owners of each property, mostly business people, young professionals or military types, had all been checked out by Col Sec before a decision was made to use the property, to ensure they would most likely keep themselves to themselves.
When Stryder drove up to the large wrought iron gates barring the driveway, he operated the remote code through his NI, activating the lock mechanism. The gates swung open allowing access to the tree-lined driveway.
The house was visible in the distance at the end of the driveway and, as the gates closed behind them, Hardy noticed the surveillance cameras sitting atop the gateposts.
“Bit obvious, aren’t they?” she pointed out.
“They’re for show, everyone here has them. The real surveillance equipment you can’t see,” Stryder explained as he drove up to the house.
All the security measures were set on auto and once the gates had been activated by the correct code they became active. The car was scanned as soon it entered through the gates and the details such as DNA, vital signs, retina patterns, dental records and the like were checked against those on file. If they hadn’t been recognised they would’ve been neutralised before they had reached the house.
“This is gorgeous,” Hardy commented as they pulled up in front of the house. It was a large, detached building built to resemble a Georgian style house from Earth’s history. Three stone steps led up to the front door, which was flanked by two stone columns. From outside it looked to have two large windows on the ground floor and the same on the upper floor. As they got out of the car she asked, “What about security?”
“We were subjected to a full body scan when we came through the gates. We’d be unconscious by now if we hadn’t been recognised and probably in custody. The Constabulary have an understanding with Col Sec. If anyone did manage to get inside, the security would neutralise them and immediately send out an alert to the Constabulary who have a special unit standing by at all times. They would hold whoever it was until someone from Col Sec arrived to take control,” Stryder explained. “Come on grab your things, let’s get changed,” he added.
Hardy looked at him slightly puzzled. “Excuse me?” she said.
“I’ve got an idea,” was all he said as he grabbed his travel grip.
“Would you like to elaborate a little more please?”
“Let’s get changed, I’ll explain on the way,” he said cryptically.
“On the way to where, exactly?” she said trying to pin him down.
“Why, I’m taking you to dinner, of course,” he said as he left her by the ATV looking confused. At the doorway to the house, he turned back to her as she stood looking at him and said, “Well, are you coming or not?”
* * * * *
Captain Pavel Norsky was in his room in the small hotel in Haven just finishing his shower when his NI tingled. He wrapped a towel around himself and padded through to his bedroom, his feet leaving wet footprints across the carpet and said, “Yes.”
“Good evening Captain. I trust I find you well,” Nokorovic said.
“Yes, sir,” Norsky replied as, even though they were of equal rank, Nokorovic’s post as General Solon’s aide afforded him a certain amount of authority.
“I have something that might prove useful in locating Captain Stryder and his companion. I have the codes that will enable you to access the satellite tracking of the implanted nanochips in every Recon Delta Marine. Use this wisely Captain and handle this personally. There can be no more slip-ups. Do I make myself clear? I am sending you the codes now,” Nokorovic said. He felt he’d made his point by the tone of his voice alone and before Norsky could reply had terminated the contact.
Norsky stood there waiting as the codes came through entrusting them to memory, something all soldiers learned in basic training. When there is no time or way to write down codes or instructions you had to learn how to memorise things immediately, it was literally the difference between life and death and he knew exactly what Nokorovic had meant. If he failed to capture Stryder this time, it was his head on the block.
Still, now he had an edge, he would be able to locate him and plan his capture. It shouldn’t be too difficult.
Reaching for his bag he took out his remote computer terminal. Normally to access a satellite he would use his NI, but for this he would need to cover his tracks and consequently would need a bit more power.
Before long he had logged onto the network, re-routing his signal through various relay points to disguise it and was about to enter the codes.
“Okay Stryder, let’s see what you and your lady friend are up to tonight,” he said in anticipation.
* * * * *
As Stryder and Hardy got back in the ATV, each having freshened up with a shower and a change of clothes, Hardy said, “Well, are you going to tell me where we’re going to dinner or should I guess? If you’d given me more time and warning I could’ve dressed a bit better.”
“There’s a little club I know. It’s owned by Abraham Bane, probably the biggest gangster in Jacksonville,” explained Stryder.
“Oh, if I’d known we were going upmarket I’d have brought my best cocktail dress,” Hardy said sarcastically. She was dressed in a plain white blouse over which she wore a dark blue trouser suit finished off with a pair of black high heels. A simple gold necklace with a matching bracelet, were the only accessories to her outfit. With her face freshly made up and her sleek hair down to her shoulders she looked stunning and Stryder had a hard job keeping his eyes off her and on the road ahead.
To accompany her he wore a white shirt and black tie over which he wore a tailored black suit. The
comment she made raised a thought, which he quickly suppressed. He couldn’t allow those kinds of thoughts to distract him from what he knew he must do. He said, “You look gorgeous just the way you are.”
She smiled then turned her head to look out the side window. “So should I be worried, should I be carrying?” she said.
“No, we’re just going to talk. I only want to find out if Bane knows of anyone recruiting muscle,” Stryder replied.
“And what if he doesn’t want to tell you?”
“We’ll just have to persuade him.”
“And how do you intend to do that with only two pistols?”
“Two pistols?”
“Yes, I brought my Sig,” she said reaching behind to retrieve her pistol from where it had been secreted in the waistband of her trousers in the small of her back. “And I presume you brought yours too,” she added replacing the Sig.
“I never saw that when you got in the ATV,” he said.
“If you’d taken your eyes off my ass long enough you might have,” she said with a knowing smile.
“Oh really,” he said.
“Really,” she said smiling. “So Kurt, you think I look gorgeous?” she added and in spite of everything, he found himself smiling at her playfulness in the midst of danger. He found it refreshing and realised that he quite liked her, which could become a problem later. He had to stay detached from any personal involvement with her, with anyone, until he had sorted out what the changes he had undergone meant for his future.
“You’ll do, but let’s concentrate on what’s ahead,” he said finally.
“Just what is ahead? Presumably you’ve thought this through. You’ve studied the layout of this club. You know where all the exits are, what the security’s like and how many of the opposition we’re likely to find there,” she said and waited for a response. “Oh my God, you haven’t thought this through at all, have you? You are making this up as you go along aren’t you? I thought you were joking when you said it earlier, but you weren’t, were you?” she said in exasperation.
