The Reluctant Assassin Box Set

by Lee Jackson

  “You must be exhausted. I don’t see any scoops on your list, but don’t sweat it. The tele-journalists got those. We’re glad you’re safe. A few in-depth articles with your analysis will go far.”

  “Thanks, I’ll fax them from here.” They spoke a while longer and signed off.

  Despite feeling relieved, Collins finished the call emotionally spent. He had never been in an active war zone. The scenes he’d witnessed moved him. The gallantry of soldiers and Marines juxtaposed against the savagery of combat left him with a sober sense that would stay with him. The cries of the wounded heard up close; seeing their blood spilled on the ground with missing limbs—and the impersonal black body bags making their way to the rear—they haunted him.

  He heard that the US had taken less than three hundred casualties. Estimates of Iraqi casualties conservatively topped twenty-five thousand. Knowing those numbers did not assuage his raw nerves. He desperately wanted a strong drink.

  Feeling the walls closing in, Collins made his way to the restaurant off the lobby. News media personalities and their crews packed it. He recognized some of them. Most looked as exhausted as he. He spotted a few he considered friends and sat down, glad for the company and the distraction. From habit, he sat close to the wall in a dimly lit corner where he could observe without being easily spotted.

  He ordered dinner with the rest of his colleagues. A subdued atmosphere hung in the air. A few pockets of boisterous people regaled their exploits. Being that they were in Saudi Arabia, no alcohol was served.

  Absently, Collins glanced into the lobby. A rotund man wearing Saudi farwah and shemagh began checking in. Next to him was a man in a business suit. His manner projected quiet confidence backed by superb physical conditioning.

  Something about the second man seemed familiar. Collins looked closer. The man had deep-set eyes, a light complexion—in a flash, Collins’ mind took him back to the night in Berlin when thousands of people had trudged by—including the only man who scowled and carried a suitcase and stopped to nurse his right shoulder. Klaus!

  Yousef and Klaus finished checking in and strolled toward the restaurant. Collins leaned into his dark corner.

  Klaus entered the restaurant ahead of Yousef. He paused momentarily to take stock of those inside. Dim candles flickered on the patrons’ faces. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except that one man leaned into the shadows.

  Klaus took his seat with Yousef, positioning himself to observe the entrance. He picked up his menu, feigning absorbed scrutiny. Soon, the man in the shadows made his way out of the restaurant. Klaus did not get a clear view of him.

  Several minutes later, Yousef’s driver entered. “Someone in the parking lot looked over the car,” he told them in a whisper.

  “Did he see you?”

  “No. I stayed out of sight. He wrote something down and left.”

  Klaus turned to Yousef. “I’ll check it out.” To the driver he said, “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  A few minutes after the driver departed, Klaus excused himself. He stopped at the front desk, had a low-tone conversation with the desk clerk, and delivered several high-denomination dollar bills. Two minutes later, he stood in front of Collins’ room.

  “This president knows how to make a statement,” Sofia said. She sat in the big empty conference room with Atcho and Burly at Berlin Brigade headquarters. “Stopping hostilities exactly on the one hundredth hour? I sure would not want to have been the last casualty.”

  “We need to stick to business,” Burly replied on the speaker. “Atcho, you and Horton are both cleared to enter the war zone. You’ll fly out to Riyadh tomorrow. You’ll get full cooperation from US military forces. Do you know where you want to start?”

  “We’ll figure that out when we get on the ground,” Atcho replied.

  “Sofia, what will you do now?” Burly asked.

  “I’ll come there to Washington and work with you,” she said. “I want to stay in the loop and see this mission through.”

  “Let me know your travel arrangements. Hold on a second—” The line went quiet a moment, then Burly came back on. “I have a call coming in from Tony Collins. He says it’s urgent. I’m patching it through, so you can all hear it.” A few electronic tones sounded, and then the reporter’s voice.

  “I’m in Dhahran, along the Saudi border with Kuwait,” Collins said without greeting. He sounded hoarse, strained. “I covered the war.” His voice took on added urgency. “I just saw Klaus downstairs in my hotel.”

  For a moment, no one spoke. “Did you hear me?” Collins repeated. “Klaus is here in Kuwait.”

  “We heard you,” Atcho broke in. “Are you sure it’s him?”

  “Positive. He’s cleaned up and wears a business suit, but that’s the man I saw at Checkpoint Charlie with the suitcase and the wounded shoulder.”

  “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t think so. I managed to move out of his line of sight before he entered the restaurant. He was reading the menu when I left. I called as soon as I got back to my room.”

  “Good job. Get out of there. He’s got to know you helped us last year, and that was your byline on those articles we planted in Berlin. If he sees you, he might come after you.”

  “I thought of that. Listen, I went to the parking lot before I called, and I think I found their car. Klaus’ companion looks like a rich Saudi. Most of the hotel guests are reporters. They don’t have cars. There was only one Mercedes. Here’s the license number.” He read it to them. “I’ll fax it so that you have the Arabic figures too.”

  Suddenly Collins heard loud pounding on his door. It was clearly audible over the speakerphone.

  “Collins, get out of there.”

  Collins responded, his voice melancholy, resigned. “It might already be too late.”

  Burly and the group in Berlin heard a crashing noise, two ballistic spits of bullets splitting the air, a thud, and then quiet. A moment later, another voice came over the line. “Are you there, Atcho?” Silence, then the sound of breathing. “You’re too late. You can’t stop what is already in motion. You killed my brother. I got your friend. I’ll get your wife. Then I’ll come for you. But before then, the world will see the might and justice of Islam.” Click.

  Atcho, Sofia, and Horton stared numbly at each other. “Oh God,” Burly muttered, then he was quiet. After a moment, he said gruffly, “I’ll call back.” He hung up.

  When Klaus rejoined Yousef after fifteen minutes, he took his seat and picked up the menu. “Things are under control,” he said amiably.

  They spent the evening in light conversation. Klaus made a point to circulate among the reporters in the restaurant and lounge, get their impressions of the war, and glean information.

  The next morning, they left early for the return trip to Riyadh. When they were far north of Dhahran on a desolate stretch of the road, Klaus asked the driver to pull over. Yousef shot a questioning glance but did not object.

  When they stopped, Klaus and the driver walked to the rear of the car. They pulled Collins’ body out of the trunk and dumped it on the side of the road. Yousef watched through the back window.

  “I had to clean up a detail,” Klaus told him on climbing back into the car. “He was a reporter that recognized me. He was the man checking out the car last night.”

  They drove a distance in silence. Klaus studied Yousef. Finally, he said, “You haven’t been this close to violence before.”

  Yousef nodded. “You see things on television and in the newspapers. It’s not the same as seeing it in actuality.” He sighed. “I’ll be all right.”

  Klaus smiled. “You take care of the money and support. I’ll handle the blood work.” He described what had transpired the night before. “We need to step up the schedule.”

  “Did you learn anything from the other reporters last night?”

  Klaus grinned. “Not a lot we didn’t already know, but there was one significant piece of information. The wells w
ill take months to close down—to put out the fires.”

  “Then why does the schedule need to speed up?”

  “Because the CIA knows I’m here. They’ll guess why, and they’ll be after me.” He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, enjoying the moment. “This could be the start of a beautiful partnership.”

  25

  “Breaking news.” Atcho stopped packing and stared at the television screen. “This just in. The body of Tony Collins, well-known investigative reporter for the Washington Herald, was discovered this morning along a highway leading out of Dhahran, Saudi Arabia. His fans will recall the all-night reporting marathon he did from Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin sixteen months ago when the Wall came down.”

  Across the room in the guest quarters of the US Embassy in Berlin, Sofia stopped what she was doing to watch the report. Her eyes brimmed. “He didn’t deserve that,” she whispered. “He was a good man. He had a family.”

  She remembered what a nuisance Collins had been while he pursued her and Atcho through Europe and even to Moscow on their mission to end the conspiracy against Gorbachev. Last year, he had produced key evidence showing a plot existed to use a nuclear device to stop the Berlin Wall from opening. He had won a warm place in hers and Atcho’s hearts, a cherished friend.

  “Klaus wanted the body to be found,” Atcho muttered. Sofia cast him a questioning glance. “Look at where they found Collins. On a highway. It might have light traffic, but anyone traveling there couldn’t miss it. He wanted us to see the report.”

  They held each other for several minutes. “Evil exists,” Atcho said after a while. “It’s why we do what we do.” He returned to packing.

  Sofia wiped her eyes. “I wish I could go with you.”

  “Not this time. We have our jobs to do, and right now,” he took her in his arms and caressed her stomach, “your job is to keep that baby safe. You should go to your parents’ house.”

  “No,” Sofia said firmly. “You think Klaus can’t find out where they live? I won’t let him destroy our lives. I’m going home to Austin. If he comes there, he’ll find a lot more than he bargained for.”

  Atcho studied her. “I thought you were going to DC to work with Burly.”

  “I changed my mind. If I can’t be with you, I want to be at home.”

  Atcho nodded. “All right. Horton will meet me at the front of the embassy in a few minutes. Let’s make that phone call.”

  He picked up the receiver and dialed a number. A familiar voice answered. Atcho turned on the speaker so that Sofia could participate. “Ivan, it’s great to hear your voice. I won’t be able to speak long. Sofia is here with me. She’ll explain in more detail when she gets home.”

  “Understood I just heard the news about Tony Collins. He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was, and that’s partly why we’re calling. I can’t say much on an open line, but our house needs protecting. Highest level of security. You know what to do.”

  “Consider it done. Send your flight information, Sofia. I’ll pick you up at the airport.” They hung up.

  Ivan Chekov was a defected KGB officer living in Texas, and now an American citizen. He and Atcho had worked together three times before on covert operations. On the second one, Ivan pressured Gorbachev personally to approve his family’s immigration to the United States. Ronald Reagan had rewarded Ivan’s effort with expedited citizenship.

  Being an avid reader of Louis L’Amour novels, the Russian had become enamored with the American West. As a result, after his defection, he settled in Montana. However, when Atcho bought the company in Austin, he lured Ivan to Texas.

  Because of his past associations with the KGB, Ivan could never receive a security clearance. For that reason, Atcho could not hire him directly into the company. However, he helped Ivan establish a corporate security services firm and hired it for his security needs. Ivan used the latest technology and methods.

  “I’m so glad we have him,” Sofia said.

  Atcho picked up his bag. Together they headed toward the front of the embassy. “I feel good knowing he’ll keep an eye on the homestead.”

  “You mean keep an eye on me.”

  “I’m glad he’ll keep an eye out for you.” Atcho smiled. “I know you can take care of yourself.”

  Horton waited for them at the entrance. His normal upbeat attitude was subdued, but he still smiled. “Get your goodbyes said. We’ve got to go.”

  Atcho turned to Sofia. She flung her arms around his neck. “Please come home safe,” she whispered.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Sofia,” Horton called from the side. “I won’t let him do any Lone Ranger crap. If you keep our rear secure, I’ll make sure he gets back in one piece.”

  Sofia smiled back her tears. She hugged Horton. “Make sure you get home too. You’ve got a wife and a son.”

  Horton squeezed her. “All right, but don’t you go getting mushy on me.” He stepped back and wiped his eyes with the sides of both fists, like a child. His face dropped into mock misery and his voice lilted. “I think I’m gonna cry.”

  Sofia punched his shoulder and pointed a finger in his face. “I’m serious. You better both come home, or I’ll make you pay.”

  Horton looked from his shoulder to her face. “Cain’t let that happen.” He grinned.

  She hugged him again.

  26

  Ivan met Sofia at the Robert Mueller Municipal Airport when she landed in Austin. He reminded her of a lethal version of the comedian Bob Newhart, medium height, balding head, but always physically fit and deadly serious. She remembered him standing erect, waving to joyous East Berliners through Checkpoint Charlie as though he had final authority in allowing the Wall to be breached.

  Sofia said very little when Ivan picked her up. She remained quiet in the car.

  “I don’t want to alarm you,” Ivan said after a while. “It’s good that you and Atcho called. Your house is under surveillance.”

  Sofia did not respond, and when Ivan checked to see if she had heard, she seemed preoccupied. She asked no questions and offered no conversation. They wound through Austin’s scenic hill country and turned onto Mt. Bonnell Road.

  When they reached the house, Ivan entered each room to clear it. Sofia meandered in a daze to the veranda and looked over the limestone cliffs to the Colorado River below. When he had finished his security checks, Ivan sauntered next to her.

  “This place is so beautiful,” Sofia said. “Atcho and I fell in love with it the moment we saw it.” She shifted her view to the road running on the opposite side of the river. “The tranquility here can’t stay this way forever. Austin is growing fast and coming our way. More development will take place on this side of the lake.”

  Ivan was concerned. She’s rambling. Unusual for her. “Sofia, are you all right?”

  Sofia turned her back to him and put her hands to her face. Her shoulders began to shake. She wept softly, wiping away tears before they escaped.

  “Sofia, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry.” She gulped. “I feel so bad about Collins—and I’m going to have a baby. I’ve never been so scared.”

  Astonished, Ivan could only say, “Is that a bad thing? The baby? Can I say congratulations?”

  Sofia remained in place without turning. After a moment, she replied. “Look at those cars on the road over there.” She gestured across the river. “The people in them live normal, happy lives. You and I and Atcho and others, we’re always dealing with evil.

  “I want this baby so much, but I’m scared to bring it into this life. And now with Collins dead and Atcho still...” Tears ran freely. “…and I can’t help him.”

  Despair broke her voice. “I’ve never felt helpless before.” She caught herself after a few moments and wiped her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. How are Lara and Kirill?”

  Ivan put an arm over her shoulder. “They’re well. Kirill is a star on his soccer team. Lara enjoys the culture of Austin.” He laughed quietly.
“And I’m getting to see the Western sites I used to read about in Louis L’Amour’s books.”

  He watched the traffic across the river. “I grew up in a totalitarian state. Atcho saw Cuba turned into one. To most people in this country, places like that aren’t real. They’re the stuff of novels and spy movies. They don’t believe life can be so bad anywhere. The Europeans forgot in three generations how cruel and sadistic things were under the Nazis. They haven’t stopped to think that most people in the world are ruled by dictators. The West lives freely because of people who go into dark places and do what needs to be done, like you and Atcho.”

  “And you,” Sofia said, patting him on his arm, “you go into those dark places. I don’t want that for my kid.”

  “Better your child is equipped to deal with danger than go blithely through life while evil creeps up from behind. That’s what happens to most people. We know evil exists because we’ve dealt with it.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Your child will be fine because of how his parents prepare.” He tried to lighten the mood. “You know, the feminist movement would probably not like your attitude. Worrying about family before career and choosing to have a child and put him or her first?” He shook his head. “Heresy.”

  “The feminist movement can go to hell,” Sofia replied flatly. “On their best days, I’ll be more feminine than any of them, and on my worst day I’ll kick their butts.” She gazed out over the river, her expression becoming resolute. “Thank you, my friend. Enough melancholy. Tell me about who’s watching our house.”

  Ivan pointed at a maroon Crown Victoria parked around a curve on the way to Atcho’s company headquarters to pick up Sofia’s car in Austin. “Those are a couple of the men watching your house,” he told her. “I don’t know who they are, but there are at least three separate teams. The other two are at different vantage points.”

  “Did you augment our security?”