Bad Company

by P A Duncan

  She pursed her lips to smother a curse. “Do I tell him who I am?”

  “I’ll leave that up to your judgement. How long has he been there?”

  “Six weeks or so.”

  “Imagine that, a spy agency lied to me. They said a couple of weeks.”

  “What happens if he decides he’s done and leaves? I’ll be suspect for not being able to keep him here, or they’ll think I’m with him.”

  Walker’s pause was long. “It’s time to come out, Karen. You’ve dropped enough evidence to put them away for good.”

  “But, this guy—”

  “Someone dealt you a new card, Karen. Handle it.”

  His firm tone reassured her. “Roger that,” she said.

  “Should you need it, your next drop will be at the Wal-Mart on South Campbell.”

  “Got it.”

  “Hang in there, K. Obi Wan knows you’re our only hope.”

  She smiled and shook her head, shutting off the phone. From a hidden compartment in her purse, she took some folded sheets of paper. Her job on the compound’s newsletter was a good cover for writing her clandestine reports. She dropped the phone and the paper in the bag, sealed it, and put it back in the tank.

  She used the toilet while she was there, thinking about her “new card.” Now she understood why he’d put off sex, but that was a big wrinkle. Lewis had been clear she could request no more condoms since she was now Sergei’s “breeder.”

  When she’d volunteered for this undercover assignment, she understood there’d be things she’d have to do to survive, but it was bitter knowledge to find out that included fucking anyone Lewis told her to. If she disobeyed… Well, she’d seen what had happened to women, and men, who’d defied Lewis and Prophet.

  So, Sergei was a spy. Didn’t they seduce women all the time? Charlene smiled. She’d have to turn the tables on her personal James Bond. But, they needed to talk. Not at the safe house or in the car, in case she’d missed a bug.

  “Let’s get it over with,” she murmured.

  When she re-entered the restaurant, she saw Sergei at their table, a fresh round of drinks before him. She skirted the dance floor to reach her chair. She sat and leaned against him.

  “Sorry I took so long. Always a line at the ladies room,” she said.

  His expression was, if anything, more vacant than usual. She leaned closer and kissed him on the mouth. When her tongue touched his lips, he backed away.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Is too public.”

  “Time we went someplace private.” She put her lips at his ear and said, “I know who you are.”

  When she leaned back and looked into his eyes, she sucked in a breath.

  36

  Frustrations

  Mount Vernon, Virginia

  “No, don’t…” The carrier wave squalled in her ear. “Hang up,” she muttered.

  Mai wanted to smash the receiver on her desk. He’d hung up on her. He fucking hung up on her. How do you tell someone you love her and hang up on her? She hit redial, and the phone rang almost thirty times before she gave up and checked the Caller ID.

  “Clayton’s Cowboy Club?” she murmured.

  The area code, a phone book search told her, was Missouri, specifically Springfield, close to three hours from the airport he’d flown into. The phone system had recorded the call, and she played it back to record it on her computer. She replayed it a half-dozen times to listen for nuances. There weren’t many: music, a thrum of background noise, incoherent conversations.

  She picked apart every word, making notes. Elijah the Prophet. Hadn’t Norton Ball mentioned him?

  Alexei had brushed off her mention of von Hollenbrand, but he’d talked of evidence. Evidence of what?

  No way to know. He’d been more cryptic than usual. No surprise there.

  Or someone was nearby, watching him, and he could only eke out a few minutes.

  Best to send this to Analysis, which had software to pull the subtlest noise from the recording. She did that and copied Nelson. That didn’t satisfy her, and she dialed Nelson’s private line.

  When Nelson answered, she said, “Alexei called.”

  “I see your email.”

  “I’m coming in. Analysis should have something by the time I get there.”

  She got small satisfaction from hanging up on Nelson.

  The Directorate

  Analysis had separated various tracks from the recording: Alexei’s voice and different background noises. In his conference room, Nelson sat with Mai and listened to the conglomerate and each separate track.

  Eyes fixed on his laptop screen, Nelson said, “Voice trace matches.”

  “Yes,” Mai said. As if he or I couldn’t recognize that voice, she thought.

  “Voice stress analysis notes some definite tension.”

  “Expected. I thought perhaps he had surveillance with him and could only get away for a few minutes.”

  Grace Lydell said, “One of the background noises is the sound of a urinal being flushed. He may have made an excuse to use the toilet.”

  “Are you sending a team to Clayton’s Cowboy Club?” Mai asked Nelson. “If so, I’m going with them.”

  “I’m not, and if I were, you wouldn’t be going with them.”

  Mai caught the glance he gave Grace, who stood and left the conference room.

  “What I will be doing,” Nelson said, when they were alone, “is checking with the ATF to see if their agent reported in.”

  “Nelson, let me go to Springfield.”

  “Mai, Missouri is a big state. His being in Springfield means nothing. He could still be in any of four states. You have a mission, one which you’ve been putting off. Stop being so prissy about Alexei.”

  “You’re the one who encouraged and fostered the development of our relationship. Your detachment is difficult for me to accept.”

  Nelson dry-washed his face and ran his hands through his usually immaculate hair. “It’s not detachment, Mai. Sometimes being director means having to be objective, even when my best friend is out of touch. This is the way it is: You and he are on different aspects of the same mission. One will not be abandoned for the other. You need to trust your highly capable partner will come home. I do. You also need to get to your meet with John Carroll.”

  “That can wait.”

  “No, it can’t. Keep putting him off, and you’ll undo the inroads you’ve made. I want you on the road tomorrow, after a decent night’s sleep in your own bed. Oh, don’t look so surprised. I know who comes and goes here. You come here at night and stare at the same sat photos until the sun rises. Go meet John Carroll.”

  37

  Responsibilities

  Springfield, Missouri

  Fuck, Alexei thought, how did this happen? Lewis had plenty of resources, and a regimental photo of Sergei Nevansky’s unit would show a man who looked nothing like Alexei. They’d had different fathers. He got up from the stool and dropped enough cash on the table to cover their drinks. The table hid the grip he put on Charlene’s wrist. She winced as he jerked her close to him.

  “Come with me, or I break your neck,” he said.

  “Is too public,” she taunted.

  That, he gave her credit for. “Move.”

  His grip moved to above her elbow, and he guided her from the club to a quiet street around the corner. He checked to see no one followed or watched them. He spotted a covered bus stop. If he had to kill her, that would be the place to leave her. She didn’t resist when he strode toward it. He pushed her down on the bench and wedged her in the corner with his body, her arm still in his vise-like grip.

  “My name isn’t Charlene,” she said, “and I know your name isn’t Sergei. You’re hurting me, by the way.”

  With his free hand, he searched her.

  “Stop,” she said. “I’m not wired or armed.”

  That didn’t stop him, and she squirmed away.

  “Be still,” he said
, “or I’ll knock you out.”

  “And that would be a federal offense. I work for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. I’ve been undercover in Patriot City for two years. We went to that club so I could report in. My supervisory agent told me about you. Look in my purse, in the bottom, under the lining.”

  Alexei took it from her and dug until he found an identification card and a badge, both authentic. He let up on the grip on her arm but didn’t release her. She grabbed her purse from him and restored her ID and badge to their hiding place.

  “When I queried the ATF about Patriot City, what I got was, ‘never heard of it,’” Alexei said.

  “And you are?”

  “Sergei’s fine for now.”

  “No, I mean, what agency are you from?”

  He said nothing. The ATF Director could know about The Directorate but not any agent.

  “NSA?” she asked.

  Why not, Alexei thought and shrugged.

  “Well, NSA doesn’t know how to coordinate,” Charlene said. “Now you’re a big complication. Oh, and let go my arm.”

  Alexei released her arm but stayed close in case she decided to bolt. “We aren’t working at cross purposes.”

  “Are you dense? Now that you’re an instructor, you get me to make babies with. That’s the complication.”

  He gave her a thin smile. “Would you have fucked me before you found out who I was?”

  She didn’t smile back. “You wouldn’t be the first, but you are the first one I’ve been paired with.”

  “I understand doing what you need to do to survive, but you and I aren’t making babies.”

  “Relax, Mr. NSA, I’m on Depro-Provera, but Lewis doesn’t know that. You might even enjoy it.”

  He ignored that. “I’m wrapping my head around the fact the constipated ATF put a woman undercover in Patriot City.”

  “I had to talk them into it. What’s the matter, Mr. NSA? No affirmative action there?”

  “The wife I mentioned? She’s my partner, and she’s very much alive. That’s why I’m not interested in fucking.” At one time, you would have been, he reminded himself.

  “Not only dense, but a dense prig,” she said, the sarcasm sounding familiar. “We’re talking about my life here.”

  “Tell Lewis I drank too much and couldn’t.” He thickened his accent again. “Is Russian thing to do.”

  “Allow me to reemphasize. Your wedding vows or my life.”

  “Now that I’m responsible for you, I assure you nothing will happen to you.”

  “Hold on, Mr. NSA. You’re not responsible for me. I was told to keep an eye on you.”

  “I suggest instead of arguing about who’ll be on top, we agree that we’ll work together to get out when the time comes. That would be the professional thing to do.”

  A protest died on her lips. He’d hit her soft spot.

  “So,” she said, “are you really Russian?”

  “Ukrainian, but I’ve been an American a long time. You’ve been in there for two years?”

  “I want to make a good case against them.”

  “Why did you volunteer?” he asked.

  “There was a guy named Alan Berg killed by a neo-Nazi group called Bruders Schweigen.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard of them and Alan Berg.”

  “Well, halleluiah, you’ve done some background. Alan Berg was my mother’s cousin.”

  When he put it together, he smiled and said, “Which means you’re…”

  “Yep, one of the hated Jews. You’d think the old Nazi would be able to tell, wouldn’t you?”

  “You know he’s a Nazi?”

  “That’s pretty easy to figure out. All right, Mr. NSA, you know why I’m here. Why are you?”

  For the old Nazi, he thought, but said, “We’re analyzing right-wing groups in America to see if they are a specific threat. My partner and I think someone is going to take revenge for Killeen, and we want to head that off. I learned about Patriot City off-hand last year and have searched for it ever since. By the way, I think I’ll file a complaint about being lied to when I first asked.”

  “Go for it, Mr. NSA. I’d think you’d understand national security goes a long way.”

  Alexei laughed, wondering if she’d quite grasped what he was.

  “How did you find it?” she asked.

  “I came across a mercenary who put me onto Lewis, and here I am. The theme of several of Elijah’s sermons have been promising.”

  “About the Killeen revenge? Yeah, he and Lewis talk about it with the women around because we’re so addled we can’t possibly understand what they’re talking about. They have a plan. I know that much, and they have a candidate to carry it out. Lewis calls him The Instrument.”

  “You don’t know his name?”

  “No.”

  “Will you share more of what you know?” Alexei asked.

  “We’ll see. The ATF isn’t fond of sharing.”

  Alexei let that pass. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t share much either.

  “Same attitude as the FBI. One day it’s going to bite you both in the ass. Answer this. Has a man, late twenties, my height, Gulf War vet, come to Patriot City in the past six to eight months?”

  “Honey, that’s more than half the guys who’ve been here.”

  “John Carroll or Jay Jenkins.”

  “Jay rings a bell. Brush cut, really long hands, chiseled features?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elijah recruited him last year, but he didn’t show up until a couple of months ago. He worked with some problem trainees, but Lewis pulled him away for special study.”

  “Study of what?”

  “That, I don’t know.”

  “Can you recall anything else about him?”

  “He kept calling someone, and Elijah didn’t like it. He got lots of face time with Elijah and Lewis. Oh, and he’s mostly interested in getting himself off in bed. I fucked him. Once, for a total of maybe two minutes.”

  “Did he come on to you?”

  “I see. You’d rather talk about other people fucking.”

  “No, I’m interested in this man’s psyche. Did he?”

  “No. Like everyone else I’ve fucked here, with one notable exception, I was the welcome committee. What’s your interest in him?”

  “He’s our prime suspect for Killeen revenge. I’m here in Patriot City, and my wife is becoming his trusted friend.”

  Charlene gave him a smirk that was eerily familiar, as well. “Will she stay faithful, too?”

  “She doesn’t work that way.”

  Too late he realized the impact of those words. Charlene blinked and looked away from him, the smirk fading. Shit, he thought, and changed the subject. “So, we work together.”

  She didn’t answer, and he hoped she wasn’t waiting for an apology.

  “We work together,” she said. “The other thing—”

  “If it ends up having to happen, it happens. Enough about it. As I said, tell Lewis I was into my R and R and drank myself impotent. He knows Russians well and will accept that.”

  “That will only fly for a while.”

  Time for don’t-piss-me-off Alexei. “I said, end of discussion.”

  She brushed his authority off. “You could have bugged out while I was in the ladies room. Why didn’t you?”

  “I have nothing to show for the past six weeks except anecdotes. Since I’m well aware of the ATF’s reluctance to share, I need to stay until I can break into Lewis’ computer.”

  “Close to impossible.”

  “I’m pretty good at it.”

  “So am I. I’m talking about the opportunity to do so.”

  “I’m also good at making opportunities. Tomorrow, we’ll go back as Charlene and Sergei.”

  “Of course, but when you’re ready to leave, I have to go with you or my life is forfeit. Or does that matter to you, Mr. NSA?”

  “No one is expendable,” he lied.

  “All rig
ht, Mr. NSA. My boss said I have to watch your ass.”

  Alexei gave her a genuine smile. “I’d rather watch yours.”

  “What was all that about being married?”

  “I am. I’m not dead.”

  38

  Family Values

  Wichita, Kansas

  The phone rang at least a dozen times before a woman, sounding out of breath, answered, “Hello. Parker residence.”

  “Yes, hello,” Mai said, as Siobhan Dochartaigh. “May I speak to Jay?”

  “Yes. Who is call, please?”

  “This is Siobhan.”

  “I tell him. You stay.”

  Mai hung on the line for several minutes, listening to background noise. A child’s faint wail. Muffled voices. A door opened and closed, and footsteps approached the phone.

  “Yeah?” Carroll asked, in a surly tone.

  “Hello to you, then,” Mai said.

  “Siobhan? I’m sorry! Corazon wasn’t clear about who was on the phone. Hey, how are you?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “My buddy really needed my help, so I’ve been busy.”

  “I was calling about your invitation to visit.”

  “Yeah? Can you come?”

  “Yes. In fact, I’m—”

  “Yes! That’s great. When can you come?”

  “I’m at the Wichita Airport, and—”

  “Wow! How’d you get there?”

  “One of the charity’s sponsors has a Cessna jet which needed some factory upgrades. I got some time off and asked if I could come along. It’s not too far, is it?”

  “No, not at all, about a two-hour drive. Give me a few minutes to clean up, and I’ll get on the road. Will you be okay where you are?”

  “Yes, I’ll be fine.” She gave him the address of the fixed base operator, and he rang off.

  Mai went back to her airplane to retrieve her duffel and told the pilots to head back to D.C. “I’ll page you when I’m ready to come back.” She watched the Citation depart and went to the passenger lounge to wait for her ride.