by David Spell
The silence hung heavy over the room. Sandra looked into the FBI agent’s eyes. Should she tell him? Could she trust him? Finally, the former Director of Operations took a deep breath.
“I need your word that you’ll never repeat this conversation. What I’m about to tell you cannot be used in the investigation. You’ll have to figure out other ways to corroborate it.”
Burns nodded. “Fair enough. I give you my word.”
Dunning paused before speaking, collecting her thoughts. “I can’t give you any of the specifics but the CIA was involved in both Nicholson’s and Knight’s deaths. Both missions were ordered by Director Sterling. On the morning I was shot, I was scheduled to meet with him to brief him on the two ops. There are no written reports for those types of missions. I’d planned on asking him why the Agency had targeted them. Sure, they were perverts and trafficked young women, but they were not the normal type of criminals that the CIA went after.”
The FBI agent was stunned. Another bombshell: Sterling learns of the videos, so he ordered Nicholson and Knight killed. To cover his own tracks, he then ordered a hit on the Director of Operations. It sounded like the plot of a crazy Hollywood movie but that was where everything seemed to point.
“So little Max tried to take you out but, thankfully, that didn’t work. What about the videos? Did he recover them? Does he have copies, too?”
Sandra shrugged. “I don’t know. My guess is that he doesn’t or the person who delivered them to us wouldn’t have been able to access the files.”
“What a mess,” Thomas sighed with a frown. “Yeah, I think this’ll be the case to wrap up my career with. If I don’t get arrested or suicided, retirement sounds pretty good. What are the chances of a retired FBI agent finding some work at Century?”
“I’m sure we can find something for you,” Sandra smiled.
One mile south of Tortola, British Virgin Islands, Sunday, 0940 hours
The chartered boat cut through the clear, calm, blue water under a cloudless sky. Jennifer Hughes, aka Jessica Hayes, was ready to get to work. She had tried not to let her disappointment show when she had met Ethan Sharpe at the airport the previous day. He was late forties or early fifties, short, plump, and looked and smelled like he hadn’t had a haircut, shave, or shower in a while. His clothes, or at least the rumpled AC/DC t-shirt, looked like it also doubled as his sleep wear. Definitely not a Shaun, Kevin Clark, or Chuck McCain look-a-like.
Sharpe, on the other hand, had been like a clumsy puppy, falling all over himself when the attractive young woman had walked up to him at the airport where he held the ‘Jessica Hayes’ sign over his head. He had offered to help with her carryon bag, attempting to take it off of her shoulder. Jen held on to the strap, allowing herself to be pulled forward, throwing the computer hacker off balance. She had then quickly twisted away from Ethan, sending him tumbling to the floor.
“Sorry,” she said, calmly, “but I don’t let anyone I don’t know carry my bag. You OK?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” he laughed, blushing with embarrassment, as other passengers walked around them, staring at the unkempt man struggling to his feet.
After getting settled at their hotel, Hughes had shared the mission plan with Sharpe in the coffee shop located just off of the lobby. While clearly uncomfortable at the idea of having to role-play, he was also clearly smitten with Jennifer and would do whatever she asked. The first thing was to get a haircut and beard trim to go along with some new clothes that they purchased at a nearby mall.
The owner of their small sight-seeing craft had agreed to take them around the private island, where Jennifer could use her powerful CIA-issued binoculars to get her first look at Alfie’s mansion. The beautiful tree-covered island was almost an acre and a half in size. The large house sat on the highest point, overlooking the Caribbean Sea. Two outbuildings, presumably guest and servant’s quarters, were connected to the main house by covered walkways. On the backside of the island, a concrete boat dock extended out into the water. Two golf carts sat underneath a covered parking area near the dock.
They made three slow circles of the island before Jen said that she had seen enough. The captain of the small boat had clearly not seen enough of the American woman, quickly agreeing when she asked if she could also reserve his boat on Monday.
“Of course, Ms. Hayes. I’ll have everything ready to leave in the morning at 9:00.”
“Thank you, Captain. I might even be able to get you into the TV show if you’d like.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I’d like that a lot,” the weathered sailor smiled brightly.
After her recon by sea, Ethan took her to the Island Hopping Helicopter Tour Agency near the Terrance B. Lettsome International Airport. After checking in and paying at the desk, Sharpe led her out onto the tarmac to the same helicopter he had flown in several days earlier.
The pilot, however, recognized Ethan and raised his hand palm out as they approached his aircraft.
“Stop right there! You got me in trouble the last time I gave you a tour, no way I’m taking you back up. Go on back inside and tell them to refund your money.”
Jen glanced at Ethan, who looked uncomfortable, not used to dealing with angry people.
“Sir, Mr. Sharpe works for me. Can you tell me what he did to get you into trouble? I’d like the opportunity to apologize and try to make it right.”
“Well, yeah,” the man’s voice softened at the attractive woman standing in front of him, “he had me fly over the private island where that missing Hollywood producer has his mansion. He kept asking me to fly lower and lower and the security guard or cop or whatever he was, got my aircraft number and complained. I got threatened with a fine by our FAA.”
Hughes looked at Sharpe, shaking her head, before looking back at the pilot.
“I apologize for that, Mr….?”
“You can call me Nick.”
“Nick, I have to take the blame for you getting into trouble. We were trying to keep it quiet, but my name is Jessica Hayes and I’m the advance scout and one of the producers for the television show, ‘Caribbean Dream Homes.’ I’m sure you’ve watched it before. The Nicholson mansion is about to go on the market and we’ve gotten permission to showcase it on one of our episodes. Ethan and I will actually be on the island tomorrow, doing a walkthrough.
“Ethan oversees our camera team and was wanting to make sure everything looked OK. Today, I just need you to fly us over so I can see it for myself. I’ll make you the same offer he made you last week. We already paid inside but I’ll give you the same amount in cash.”
Nick stared at Jennifer, still not quite convinced.
“And for what it’s worth, Nick, the government has given us permission to be here to start doing the preliminary work for the show. The whole crew will be arriving next week and we’re going to need some aerial footage if you’re interested in helping us out.”
The pilot finally smiled and stuck out his hand. “You’ve got a deal, Ms. Hayes.”
The aerial overview confirmed what Ethan had already told her and filled in some of the blanks that he had not been able to answer. A paved road led from the boat dock through the trees up to the house, a distance of approximately three hundred yards. Jennifer also saw a helicopter pad about halfway up to the residence. The only vehicle that was visible was a golf cart parked next to the main house.
The sound of the rotors brought the security guard out the back door, staring up at the helicopter, shielding his eyes with his hand. They made several passes over the island from different angles. This time, however, they didn’t ask the pilot to go below the required thousand-foot ceiling.
After they landed, Jennifer slipped Nick five one-hundred-dollar bills and told him that she would be in touch. Back in their rental car, Sharpe exhaled loudly.
“That was crazy!” he exclaimed, as he maneuvered the vehicle out onto the road. “How do you do that? He believed everything that you said.”
Hughes smiled.
“I guess I’m a pretty good actress or liar. Take your pick.”
“What if he tries to find you or the fictitious TV show online?”
“He’ll find a website for the show listing upcoming episodes, along with a pic and a bio of Jessica Hayes and several of the other producers.”
“Whoa, you spies think of everything!” Ethan exclaimed.
“Let’s hope so. The real work is tomorrow. You’re really going to have to bring your A-game to help me with that security guard.”
“I’ll try, but I’m just a computer guy. This is so out of my comfort zone.”
“Ethan, I know you can do it,” she said, sweetly, trying to keep her partner motivated. “We made a pretty good team today and this is an important mission.”
“Maybe, maybe not, but the pay is good,” the hacker responded, keeping his eyes on the road in front of them.
Jennifer glanced over. “Don’t you want to track down some terrorists?”
“Is that what he told you this was about?”
“What did Director Sterling tell you that we were doing?”
“I…uh, probably shouldn’t have said anything,” Sharpe stammered, realizing that he had let his mouth get away from him.
Hughes didn’t like where the conversation was going, but she needed to keep Sharpe talking.
“Ethan, you can’t leave me hanging like that!” Jen responded in a pouty voice. “I thought we were a team.”
“Sorry, Jess, Max is a friend from way back and I don’t want to betray his trust. Just forget I said anything. Hey, where we gonna eat tonight?”
Hughes let the silence in the car hang heavy before answering. “I’ll be having dinner in my room by myself.”
“But you just said we were a team. Shouldn’t we eat together so we can discuss our plan for tomorrow?”
“No, Ethan. If you can’t trust me enough to tell me what you know about this assignment, I’d prefer to eat by myself. We can chat after breakfast tomorrow before we head to the marina.”
Sharpe had minimal experience in dealing with women. He hoped to have dinner with Jessica tonight at the hotel restaurant, the closest thing to a date that he’d had in years. Now, she was mad at him. Why had he opened his big mouth?
“Okay, Jess, I’ll tell you but you can’t say anything. Max would be so pissed at both of us.”
“Ethan, I would never do anything to get my partner in trouble,” she said, softly, her voice like butter in the older man’s ears.
“So, Max is a bit of a perv,” the hacker said, lowering his voice even though it was just the two of them in the car. “He always has been. He’s a good guy, but he likes his girls young. The files that we’re looking for are movies of him doing some things that he shouldn’t be doing. He can’t have movies of him banging young girls floating around out there. They could be used for blackmail and would probably cost him his job.”
Jennifer maintained a neutral expression but inside her head, everything had just clicked into place. CIA teams had been ordered to take out Alfie Nicholson and Erin Knight. She was still new to the Agency, not knowing if the CIA normally took those extreme measures against pedophiles and sex traffickers. A few days later, the Director of Operations was almost killed, with another attempt on her life soon following the first. Now, it was beginning to sound a lot like the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency was trying to cover his ass.
No wonder Sterling hadn’t sent her with a backup team. She was expendable. The only question in her mind was whether or not Ethan was going to kill her when they found the files. Or try to kill me, she thought grimly, glancing over as the nerdy computer hacker pushed his glasses up on his nose, focusing on the road. Maybe that’s all an act? she wondered.
Hughes forced a smile onto her face. “That’s all? I thought you were going to tell me that he was involved in some deep, dark national security scandal. Men will be men and you’re right, he’s a great guy, so let’s find those files tomorrow and get out of here. You still want to have dinner?”
The relief was evident on Ethan’s face.
“Whew, thanks for being so understanding, Jess. I’d love to have dinner with you.”
Georgetown, Washington, D.C., Sunday, 2235 hours
Maxwell Sterling sat in his bed, pushed the dial button, and held the phone to his ear. Ethan Sharpe answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Max! How’s it going?”
“Don’t you sound chipper? It sounds like you and Agent Hayes are getting along OK.”
“She’s so hot, Max! And she’s really good. You should’ve seen her in action today as we did our recon! We’re all set for tomorrow to head out to the island and see what we can find.”
“Does she suspect anything beyond what I told her?”
Sharpe hesitated before answering. “No, of course not. She just thinks that Alfie was funding some terror groups, like you told her.”
“Are you telling me the truth, Ethan?”
“You know I’d never lie to you, Max!”
“I certainly hope not. I’ll have her give you whatever she finds. Agent Hayes doesn’t need to have possession for any longer than it takes for her to find the files or hard drives and turn them over to you. I don’t know that I trust her not to get curious.”
“Good idea. I’ll let you know what we come up with tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Ethan. Good night,” Sterling disconnected.
The CIA Director pulled up his agent’s number, sending her a text.
“Mission Status?”
Three minutes later, his phone vibrated with her response.
“Recon today. We’re heading in tomorrow. No problems anticipated.”
“Very good. Give whatever you find tomorrow to Sharpe. He’ll handle the case from there.”
“Will do.”
He laid his phone on the table next to his bed and sighed. He needed to enlarge his circle of go-to operatives. In a perfect world, he would have Ethan kill Jennifer after she turned over any incriminating evidence. In reality, she’d probably break the chubby computer geek’s neck without breaking a sweat. Plus, Sharpe wasn’t a killer. He was a criminal, no doubt, having broken cyber-security laws all over the United States, as well as the rest of the world.
Maxwell wondered if Ethan had told the woman anything that he shouldn’t have. Sharpe was a brilliant hacker but he had almost no experience with the opposite sex. At the same time, there was no reason to believe that Jennifer/Jessica suspected anything beyond the information that she had been given.
Hopefully, tomorrow he would hear some good news. He was still concerned about the possibility of the videos already being in the wrong person’s hands. It had been over two weeks since Ethan had alerted him that someone had gotten into the wifi network at Nicholson’s LA mansion ahead of them. Two weeks was an eternity in today’s headline/social media driven world. If someone wanted to embarrass or blackmail Sterling they probably would have done it by now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALFIE NICHOLSON'S ISLAND, South of Tortola, British Virgin Islands, Monday, 0950 hours
The captain brought his twenty-one-foot vessel expertly up to the dock where his two deckhands jumped off and secured it with heavy ropes.
“Captain, we should be back in two hours or less.”
The sailor smiled brightly, his white teeth contrasting with his dark, wrinkled skin.
“No problem, Ms. Hayes. You take as long as you need. You’ve paid for the whole day.”
“You ready, Ethan? It’s showtime,” she said quietly, as they walked down dock away from the boat.
“I hope so. I’m following your lead but I’m really nervous.”
Jen could see the beads of sweat on his red face. It was a warm morning, but the tropical breeze was comfortable. Her partner was definitely on edge. She wondered if he was nervous because he was being asked to play a role he normally did not play, or was there more?
The CIA agent had spent a lot of time thinking thro
ugh her situation the previous evening. The more she thought about it, the clearer it became that Sterling was using her to find evidence that either implicated him in a crime or at the very least, would cost him his job. Sharpe, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have the skills to find anything other than a buffet or his keyboard.
Or was that all an act? She still wondered if he would try and eliminate her after she gave him whatever they found on the island. Hughes had been tempted to reach out to Shaun, to let him know what her situation was so that someone would know where she was at. The only people on the planet who knew her location were Maxwell, Vijay, and Ethan, along with one or two low-level Agency support personnel.
The problem with trying to contact someone, however, was that the only communication devices she had were her Agency-issued phone and tablet. She carried nothing that would reveal her true identity or who she worked for. If she called, texted, or emailed Shaun, those communications would be flagged and Sterling would know that she suspected something. Of course, she could find a phone or computer to use, but she would need to shake loose of Ethan first.
Hughes had watched Sharpe closely, not picking up any indicators that he was armed. She, on the other hand, had several surprises concealed under her blouse, in her waistband, and in her purse if the need arose. Ethan had almost fallen into the water stepping onto the dock and Jen had trouble believing that anyone could play the part of a fat, bumbling computer hacker so well. At the same time, she wasn’t going to let her guard down.
“Do you think the security guard is watching us?” Sharpe asked, looking around as they approached the two golf carts they had observed the previous day.
