by Tripp Ellis
"How is that possible?"
“Someone else has access.”
”But wouldn't that data be encrypted?"
"It should,” I said. “That would be standard protocol."
"This is coming from within Cobra Company?”
"There are a few possibilities. We don't know the origin of the case. I'm sure the CIA is tracking the case along with Cobra Company. That makes two agencies that have access to the data. Any number of people within those two agencies could be using the data, or selling it."
Frankie frowned.
“Maybe even the NID is tracking it as well?”
The elevator whisked us up to the 30th floor, and the door slid open. I pressed the button for the ground level. I was more than content to ride this elevator up and down all day long until we figured out what to do with the case and how to avoid detection.
15
The elevator descended a few floors before stopping abruptly. The bell dinged once again, and the doors slid open on the 27th floor. It was an unplanned stop.
I palmed the grip of my pistol as it hung in its holster, ready to draw it out in a moment’s notice. My skin was sweaty and dirty, not to mention rough from the cuts and scrapes caused by crawling across shattered glass. Crusted blood had dried in the grooves of my palms.
We must have looked like two crackheads—eyes wide and skittish as hell.
A man stood in the doorway glancing at us, worriedly. He hesitated a moment before stepping aboard the elevator.
“Buenos dias,” I said with a smile.
He muttered a response, then turned around and faced forward. He looked at the buttons and saw that Level 1 was already lit up.
The tension was thick in the elevator. I exchanged a glance with Frankie behind the man's back. Now and again, he would glance over his shoulder at me, uncomfortably. I was pretty sure he didn’t pose a threat, but I was still wired and twitchy from the adrenaline. I didn’t trust anybody.
The doors finally slid open on the first floor, and the man stepped off the elevator. I peered past him, looking for threats.
The lobby was empty.
I pressed the button to hold the door open, then said to Frankie, “Stay here. Don't get off this elevator."
Her face twisted into a scowl. "You're not going to leave me here, are you?"
"I need to get something to shield that case. Shoot anybody that bothers you."
She growled at me as I stepped off the elevator.
The doors slid shut, and I looked back at the indicator light above the elevator, watching the it rise floor by floor. I strolled across the lobby and hovered by the entrance. I peered out to the street and surveyed the area for threats. There were no sirens. No screeching tires. No sounds of gunfire. I waited a few minutes for more thugs to show up, but none ever did.
When I was reasonably confident a carload full of goons weren't going to storm the lobby, I pushed through the doors and shuffled down to the sidewalk. My eyes scanned the street in both directions. I was sure that a few blocks over the Policia had arrived at the site of the overturned cab and were evaluating the scene. No doubt eyewitnesses had given them our description.
I walked casually in the opposite direction, strolling down the sidewalk. It was a beautiful day. Just a few clouds overhead. Birds fluttered about in the trees. I could see why there were a fair amount of ex-pats here. The weather was great, the lifestyle was cheap, and there were plenty of activities to keep a person entertained.
A few blocks over, I found a grocery store, not far from a Burger King. No matter where you go in the world, you can’t get away from American fast-food chains.
The grocery store was clean and modern and had an array of items. Everything from produce to frozen foods. Toiletries, cleaning supplies, medicine, liquor. It was just like a grocery store in the States, except all the brand names were different. I perused the aisles, looking for a roll of tinfoil. Wrapped around the case, it would create a Faraday cage and prevent the GPS tracking device from connecting with the network. It would allow us to travel freely about the city.
That was the theory, anyway.
We also needed to change our appearance.
Whoever was after us was looking for a man with a blonde and a silver case. I wandered around the store, looking for items I thought might be useful. A bottle of brunette hair dye might come in handy. I grabbed one from the shelf in the cosmetic section. Then I passed a rack of straw fedora hats and picked one up. At the front of the store, I found a stand with cheap, colorful sundresses. I grabbed one that I thought would fit Frankie, and I found a cheap pair of flip-flops. She needed some type of footwear. Flip-flops weren’t ideal, but they were better than nothing. Then I found a canvas tote bag that would conceal the case.
I moved to the checkout lane and paid cash for the items with Colombian pesos. A sacker stuffed everything into a brown bag, and I headed back to the high-rise where I had left Frankie.
I strolled into the lobby, clutching a grocery bag full of items, and moved to the elevator bank. The call button lit up when I pressed it, and a moment later the elevator I had left Frankie in descended to the ground floor.
When the doors slid open, she was gone.
16
A wave of panic rushed through me. My body tensed. All kinds of dreadful scenarios raced through my mind. Then my panic turn to anger. Anger at myself for leaving her alone in the elevator.
All of my worry evaporated when the other elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Frankie hovered in the corner.
My relieved eyes connected with hers, and I dashed into the compartment. “Why did you move?”
She shrugged. “Some creepy guy got on the other elevator. Followed me up, then didn’t get off. I hopped out in the lobby and switched lifts.” Her eyes scrutinized me, and my new accessory atop my head. A sarcastic breath escaped her full lips, “Nice hat.”
I scowled at her, playfully, then pressed the button for the 30th floor. The elevator doors slid shut. I set the brown paper bag on the floor, then pulled out the role of tinfoil. I un-spooled a few feet of it. Frankie held the case out while I wrapped several layers around it. One or two wouldn’t be enough to shield it, but hopefully five or six would?
By the time I finished wrapping the case, it looked ridiculous. I pulled the canvas tote from the grocery bag and shook it open. Frankie stuffed the case into the bag, then gripped the handles.
“Clever,” she said. “You think this is going to work?”
I shrugged. “We’re about to find out.”
I reached into the bag and pulled out the sundress.
Her top lip curled with disapproval. “What’s that?”
“Put it on.”
“That’s not really my style.”
“Put it on!” I said, sternly.
Her eyes narrowed, and she huffed at me. “You want me to change right here?”
“I’ll turn around if it makes you feel better.”
Frankie scowled at me.
There was one slight problem. The case had been affixed to her wrist after she had put on her pantsuit and blazer. There was no way her jacket could fit over the case.
“And just how do you expect me to get this off?” Frankie said, motioning to the blazer.
I pulled out a black tactical pocketknife and unfolded the anodized blade.
The muscles in her jaw clenched tight. “Do you know how much this suit jacket cost?”
“I’ll buy you a new one.”
She huffed and peeled off the jacket. It bunched around her left wrist.
I cut the sleeve so it could fit over the case.
“What about the shirt?” I asked.
Her eyes blazed into me. We stared at each other for a long moment.
She let out a resigned sigh again. “You want to give me a hand? Unbuttoning a blouse isn’t the easiest thing in the world while handcuffed to a briefcase.”
I agreed to help. Unbuttoning a beautiful woman’s blouse was o
ne of my special skills. I proceeded to delicately push the pearl buttons through the islets, opening her blouse.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” I said. “Contrary to popular belief, I have no desire to see you naked.”
She scoffed. “You’re a terrible liar for a spy.”
I worked my way down her blouse, the fabric falling away with each button. The white lacy bra she wore underneath revealed a sumptuous valley of cleavage. I had already seen her toned abs on the boat, but up close and personal, her form was far more impactful. The faint traces of her perfume filled my nostrils, and the warmth of her body radiated toward me. Her delicate breath tickled my hands as I unbuttoned her shirt.
When the last button was released, she shrugged the garment from her shoulders, and I used my pocket knife to slice the sleeve. I pulled the frayed garment over the case.
“You need me to help you with your pants?” I asked.
She sneered at me. “I think I can manage, thank you very much.”
She shimmied the slacks over her hips and let the fabric fall to her ankles. She wore a pair of matching lace panties, the sight of which elevated my heartbeat.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be looking?”
“Right,” I said, clearing my throat.
I turned around and faced the opposite wall. The temperature in the small elevator seemed to rise.
The bell dinged, and the door slid open. A man stood at the precipice of the elevator, staring at the half naked beauty with his eyes wide. He was frozen—paralyzed by her beauty.
“Sorry. This elevator is full,” Frankie said in Spanish.
She pressed the button to close the doors, and they slid shut.
We continued on our journey.
The shoulder straps of the sundress were tied in neat little bows. Frankie untied the left side, stepped into the dress, and slid it up her body. “You can turn around now.”
The left strap dangled freely, exposing her lacy bra.
“You think you can tie this for me?”
I happily obliged. When I finished, I stepped back and looked her up and down.
“What you think?” she asked, modeling the dress, twisting from side to side.
“I think you look magnificent.” I wasn’t lying. She could wear a paper bag and look good.
Frankie rolled her eyes.
My hand dug into the grocery bag and pulled out the pair of flip-flops. I tossed them onto the floor before her, and Frankie stepped into them.
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “I try to be thorough.”
The elevator reached the top floor. The doors slid open, and I pressed the button for the lobby. On the way down, we stopped and picked up two more passengers. A man and a woman.
When we reached the lobby, the doors opened, and the other passengers stepped out. I took a deep breath and looked to Frankie. “Are you ready?”
Her face crinkled. “We can’t stay here forever.”
17
We left the lobby and strolled to the sidewalk. I surveyed the area, and my body misted with sweat. I was convinced a car would screech around the corner at any moment, and more goons would open fire.
My heart pounded with anticipation. I had no way of knowing if the case was still transmitting location data. I kept my palm on the grip of my pistol as we strolled down the sidewalk, my head on a swivel, scanning all directions.
We moved north. I had seen a hotel a few blocks away on my trip to the grocery store.
A police siren filled the air, moving toward us. The white SUV rounded the corner with flashing red and blue lights.
I grabbed Frankie and pulled her close. "Pretend we're a couple."
She looked at me with reluctant eyes. "We will never be a couple!”
"I said pretend." I tipped my head, lowering the brim of my hat, and leaned in and kissed her plump lips as the police car approached.
Frankie's lips were soft and smooth. I felt a little spark ignite within me. Okay, maybe more than a spark? My stomach fluttered. My heart beat faster. Perhaps there were fireworks and bombs exploding?
I could certainly be persuaded to kiss her again.
The police siren warbled as the vehicle passed by and disappeared down the winding road.
The kiss lingered a little longer than necessary.
She’d never admit it, but she kissed back.
Frankie broke free and looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes. I wondered if it rocked her world as much as it did mine?
If it did, she was quick to wipe the thought away. “Do you always just take what you want, Mr. Wild?”
I scoffed. “You think I wanted to do that?”
Her skeptical eyes narrowed at me.
“That was strictly for professional reasons. I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but we’ve killed a lot of people here.”
“You’ve killed a lot of people.”
“For your benefit, I might add.”
“For the benefit of the mission,” she corrected.
We stared at each other for a moment.
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t enjoy it.”
“What? Killing people? Or kissing me?”
“Both.”
She knew better.
A sly grin tugged her lips. Her delicate hand clasped my bicep, and she gently pulled me forward down the sidewalk. “I guess it won’t hurt to pretend we are a couple.” Then she added, “While we’re in public.”
We walked for a few blocks and found a cheap hotel. The Casa Valencia. It wasn't quite as nice as the International, but it was still a four-star hotel. At $42 a night, how could you go wrong?
The room had hardwood floors, two double beds, a flatscreen TV, walk-in shower, a refrigerator, and a nice view of the city. The sliding glass doors led to a small balcony that contained two chairs.
So far, we hadn’t been ambushed. I was beginning to think the makeshift Faraday cage worked.
I latched the door behind us as we entered the room and secured the chain. I surveyed the suite, then stepped onto the balcony, and looked over the valley. My eyes dropped to the street below, and I kept a close watch for the next 15 minutes.
No angry men with machine guns arrived.
I powered up my cell phone and waited. A few more minutes passed—still no thugs with machine guns.
Several texts and a voicemail buzzed through from Isabella. I called her back while still keeping an eye on the street. “We’ve got a security breach.”
“I know,” Isabella said. “I’m trying to chase it down.”
“No. It’s worse than we first thought. They’re tracking the case’s GPS.”
“I’m aware.”
“How did this happen?”
“Like I said, I’m trying to chase it down.”
“We’re lucky to still be alive,” I grumbled.
“I see you’re making a splash on the news.”
I clenched my jaw. “I thought you said this gig was going to be easy?”
“Unforeseen complications. My apologies.” She paused for a moment. “You’re not going to like this.”
My body tensed.
“I’m picking up a lot of chatter on the dark web. There’s a contract on the case. Every mercenary in the area is gunning for it.”
I cringed. “Who put out the contract?”
“Unknown. I’m working on it.”
“Work harder,” I barked.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m not inclined to say, but I’m sure you can figure it out.” Tracking a cell signal was child’s play for Isabella.
“I’m not the problem.”
“Someone in your organization is,” I grumbled.
“Not necessarily. You know as well as I do, there are many cogs in this wheel.”
“So how do we get out of this situation?” I asked.
“I’ve made contact with a loca
l asset. You will meet with him, and he will arrange transport to Santiago’s compound.”
“Right now, I’m not sure how much faith I put into your local contact. What if he’s compromised?”
“He’s not. I’ve thoroughly vetted him.”
“Just like you thoroughly vetted everyone else who was in the loop on this operation?”
Isabella contained a growl. She spoke in a low, slow, deliberate voice. “I am not the bad guy. I am trying to help you out of a bad situation.”
It was a voice that said quit complaining.
“I mean, I like a little excitement, but this is getting ridiculous,” I quipped.
“The contact’s code name is Dragonfly.”
I scoffed. “Dragonfly? Really?”
Isabella was getting perturbed. I could hear it in her voice. I didn’t give a shit. I was beyond perturbed.
“I’m arranging a meeting,” she said. “I will call you back with time and place. Sit tight and stay safe.”
“Easier said than done.” I hung up the phone.
My eyes found the street below—still no thugs.
So far so good.
My nerves settled slightly, and I stepped back into the room.
Frankie was sprawled out on one of the beds, relaxing, watching the news.
An anchor reported on the trail of chaos we had left behind. There was footage from the carnage in the tunnel, and clips of the overturned cab. A bystander had grabbed shaky cell phone footage of us scurrying away from the taxi. The footage was distorted enough to prohibit a positive identification. Still, we’d be pretty easy to spot.
I needed a change of clothes, and Frankie needed to do something about her platinum blonde hair. I dug into the grocery bag and pulled out the hair dye and tossed it onto the bed beside her.
She barely shifted her head, and her eyes filled with disdain. “What do you expect me to do with that?”
“I thought you might look good as a brunette.”
“Last time I checked, your opinion didn’t really matter to me.”
“I’m just saying, they’re looking for two gringos. That blonde hair of yours sticks out like a sore thumb.”
