by D S Kane
Ann didn’t need much convincing. But Lee did. He shook his head. “I’ve just returned to the agency. How can I ask Greenfield for a vacation?”
“Tell him I’m planning to have you meet my parents. And Lee, that job of yours has to end soon anyway. You promised. I only need to have you for four or five days, including travel to and from California. Please?”
“I still feel uncomfortable about leaving work so soon before I resign.”
She shrugged and waved her hands. “People do that all the time. Look, we can travel to California over the weekend, say on Friday night. If you take a red-eye home, you can be in the office on the following Wednesday. You’d miss out on going to Hawaii with us, but at least you can meet my parents.”
He shook his head, his lips clammed together. “Uh, too long. How about I fly home on the redeye Monday night? That way I’ll be back at the end of the holiday.”
Cassie felt sick of negotiating. She nodded. “Okay.” Then she picked up the phone to arrange the meeting with Ms. Leech and negotiate a few days of school absence for Ann.
The next day was bleak and gray, and even through her zippered black hoodie, it chilled Ann to the bone. She shivered, more from what she held in her hands than the painful chill. The outdoor practice range of the Washington Gun Club was large, with the breeze charging down the hills blowing her hair into her face.
It was a few minutes past noon, both Ann and Lee were on their lunch hour. Lee took the Beretta from her, aimed and squeezed the trigger. “Watch my hand, Ann.” He took a deep breath, and fired again. “See how I take a deep breath before I fire to steady myself?”
Ann nodded. “Uh huh.” She wondered why she had to learn this.
Lee handed the weapon to her. As if he could read her mind he said, “I think that you need to know how to use a gun, since Cassie and I have been terrorist targets. Cassie thinks that time is over, but I’m not so sure. You’ve led a pretty rough life, and I think it’ll be valuable to learn how to protect yourself, in case something ever happens.”
Ann suspected that he hoped practicing with her would create a bond between them. She wondered if she would ever have to kill someone? Would she need to know how? Would she someday be hunted? For the first time since she’d lived with Lee and Cassie, Ann wondered if the tunnels under the streets near Grand Central Station weren’t a safer place for her. She accepted the obvious answer. “Okay, sure. What do I do?”
Lee said, “Okay. I’ll take you through this one step at a time. First…”
Cassie sat on a folding chair in the conference room next door to Shimmel’s office, shuffling papers representing assignments that needed to be staffed. When she heard her cell phone chime to indicate an arriving email, she examined the screen. It was marked “Urgent,” from Shimmel. She wondered why he’d sent an email when his office was right down the hall? Unless, he wanted her to read this without the interruption of questions. Cassie opened it:
Sashakovich—
We have received an RFP from Achmed Houmaz, to find the identity of the killers of his brothers. I recommend that we formally decline, but please also know that he has sent the RFP to other companies.
—Shimmel
“Shit.” Cassie spat out the word. She never thought that it would come to this. “It just never ends! Dushov was right; I should have killed Achmed when I murdered his brothers.” She thought about how hard she’d worked to recover her life from the terrorists who’d stolen it from her.
She bit her lip. I’ll be damned to Hell before I let this mess destroy my life again.
She drew herself up straight, found she was shivering. She tried to cast off the bitterness she felt. Shaking her head to regain focus, she decided to go ahead and live her life as if nothing was wrong. She sat at her desk and doggedly prepared her vacation plans. First step for this to happen was for her to get Swiftshadow’s “house” in order. She sent an email to Adam Mahee, William Wing, and Avram Shimmel, her three Directors of Operations, copying Judy Hernandez: set a meeting in the unfinished conference room for 1:30 p.m. today, thirty minutes from now.
Pizza arrived at their reception desk, and one by one, they took slices on paper plates and ate separately.
Just after lunch they began to drift into the room. By 1:30, all had assembled.
Cassie scanned their faces. “Please be seated. Consider this our first weekly status meeting. When will the offices be ready for occupancy?”
Hernandez replied, “Construction completed and clean up done by the end of next week. Telecom service ready about the same time.”
“Good. Now moving on, we just received a request for a security audit from the guy who owns the Wailea Spa in Maui. Sanji Morikono. So I can combine business with pleasure. I’ll do the computer security part of the assignment and Avram, you can assign a few of your mercs to complete the physical security portion. I’ll fly to the hotel first, to discuss the assignment. I’ll be gone two weeks plus the surrounding weekends, for a total of seventeen days, but you can always reach me on my cell or by email. When I’m in the water I’ll have my cell in a waterproof Aquapac arm band and I’ll wear a waterproof Bluetooth earbud. So while I’m away and the office is being furnished, you can all work from home where it will be quieter, except for you, Judy. You’ll have to be here to manage progress of the crews.”
Judy nodded.
Cassie looked at her cell phone’s screen and then faced the others. “I have a list of each of your current projects on my phone. I’ve sent this to you all as email.”
She looked at Mahee. “Adam, you’ll be working on several weapons tech development projects, including the replacement technology for the GNU Radio just in case Stillwater Tech can’t resolve the ramp-up problems they have.” Mahee nodded back.
“William, you’ll polish the website and then decide which hacking assignments your group will accept from the US and other governments.” Wing just nodded and blinked his eyes though black plastic fishbowl eyeglasses.
“And, Avram, deal with Achmed Houmaz. I know you don’t want to lie to him and I agree, it’s a bad idea. Sooner or later he’d find out the truth. But we need a plan for what to do when he finds out it was us who killed his brothers. And I assume that he’s smart enough to find out, if he doesn’t yet know. If he knows, then this email may just have been a warning to put us on notice. Try to figure out what he might do.”
Shimmel nodded, but then he turned deadly serious. “Sashakovich, I insist you take your five bodyguards with you for the duration of your trip, given the Houmaz threat.”
Cassie shook her head and said, “No, Avram. This isn’t just a business trip for me. I’m taking Ann. This is my vacation. No bodyguards.”
“I insist. If you do not, I will have them go with you anyway. And if you fire me, then I will also go with you. Besides, they can complete the physical security portion of the assignment while you are there, not after.”
Cassie sighed. It was going to be a much larger group than she had planned on. “All right. I guess I have no choice.”
When she returned from school the next afternoon, Ann reviewed her homework assignment for social studies. “Watch a congressional hearing and write a report on what you see.” This will be a real bore. Oh well, I’d best get started. She turned to CNN for a program called “House of Representatives: Pre-Impeachment Hearings” and opened her notebook computer.
On the screen she could see a man the screen labeled “Congressman Thomas Dillworthy (R-Indiana)” snap the gavel hard onto the table in the congressional amphitheater. “Order. Order!” Ann wondered why there was such a high level of noise in the arena. “I know this is almost unbelievable, but hear me out. I have hard evidence,” and he pointed to a stack of papers next to him on the table.
Another person, labeled “Congressman James Farkalowe (D-Michigan)” requested recognition, and Ann began to take notes.
“So let me see if I understand. You just stated that the President of the United States ha
s been funding terrorism since he took office?”
The camera returned to Dillworthy. “Yes, my esteemed colleague. I request that special counsel be appointed to investigate this, unless someone other than me wishes to accept responsibility for this investigation.” Ann copied what she’d heard, word for word.
Yet another blue-suited congressman, a Republican, asked Dillworthy, “Where did you get this evidence?”
Dillworthy said, “I have promised to keep my source protected in these televised hearings. But, I’ll tell everything I know to a special counsel. Nothing more until that.”
Ann heard the masculine voiceover from a network newsperson saying, “And with the presidential election less than three weeks away, this information will certainly take the edge off the ten-point lead in the polls currently enjoyed by the Republican nominee, Sanford Stanchion.”
A female counterpart echoed that opinion. “Stanchion was favored to win by a landslide. But it looks like that may change. We’ll follow this story for you, and more. Now, back to the committee meeting.”
Ann typed as fast as she could, ensuring that she copied everything that was said. Then she wrote a draft of the report, containing as much analysis as she could. She printed the first draft, scanned her work and shook her head. She suspected it was terrible, since her initial drafts always needed massive revisions. She left the draft on the kitchen table, needing to think before rewriting. She went upstairs to retrieve a thesaurus from her bedroom.
As the sun set, Cassie opened the front door and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She saw the draft of Ann’s social studies report, smiled and picked it up, remembering her own days in high school.
There were errors in spelling and grammar, but she knew how hard Ann was trying. As she scanned the page, her jaw dropped. She hadn’t seen the news yesterday, hadn’t bothered reading the paper. Someone had taken Yigdal Ben-Levy’s television appearance six weeks ago as gospel and done a separate investigation. She knew about the funds transfer network the President had ordered, and wondered if the congressional investigation would discover that, as well. If they did, the charges would go from simple impeachment to treason.
She was no longer the only one who knew what the President had done. Her remaining leverage on the White House was disappearing fast now, and real danger would replace it. Her four-month lead time had vanished in a matter of a few weeks.
She fell into a seat at the kitchen table. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Maybe Avram was right. Maybe a vacation wasn’t such a good idea. But, if she was to take a vacation, it was best her bodyguards accompany her. It was likely this was the last one she’d have for a very long time.
Part Two
Chapter Thirteen
October 10, 11:24 a.m.
Mineta International Airport, San Jose, California
Two days later, on a bright, clear October Friday, a small Learjet approached Mineta International Airport in San Jose, in northern California.
Ann had met the men about six hours ago that morning, just before they left the house for the airport. Cassie had explained to Ann what covert services were and had mentioned the names of several of the men and revealed their nationalities. She smiled nonchalantly. “Our bodyguards are all former Mossad agents.” Cassie had told her once what Mossad was, but Ann didn’t remember. She’d understood there might be dangers, but once again she worried whether having chosen Cassie and Lee to be her family might not be some massive mistake.
Over breakfast, Cassie had told Ann what the men’s special skills were, in addition to being her family’s bodyguards. “This man is Lester Dushov, an expert in chemistry; Lester is especially useful in interrogation.” The man was thin and balding, probably close to fifty years old. “Ari Westheim is a martial arts expert.” The red-haired man had a youthful looking face. “Shimon Tennenbaum earned a PhD in psychology and hypnosis. He also specializes in interrogation.” This man had olive skin and eyes that were almost black. He smiled at her. “Michael Drapoff is a tech expert with a special focus on telecommunications.” She examined his craggy face. He towered over the rest of them. “And we call Jacob David Weinstein, ‘JD.’ He’s an expert in both explosives and automatic weapons.” Ann found him to be handsome, his smile compelling.
She decided when she had time later, she’d find out what these special skills were. Some she thought she understood. Many were just plain confusing. Most puzzling was psychology. All she knew was it had to do with feelings and thinking.
Lee swallowed a piece of toast. He laughed. “Are you trying to train her to be a spy?” he asked Cassie.
Cassie stopped in mid-thought and faced them both. “Uh, well, I, ah. No. Never.”
“Yeah. Thought so.” Lee shook his head, his mouth grinning with disbelief.
As they packed the limo for the trip to the airport, William Wing parked his car out in front of the house. “Cassie, I’m here to take care of Gizmo while you’re gone.”
She handed him a piece of paper. “Here you go. Instructions on what she eats, where to buy it, and the name of the vet in Washington if something bad happens. Call me and let me know how she is. I’ll be in northern California for the weekend and then Hawaii for about two weeks.”
Now, six hours later, the plane gradually lined up above the runway and settled to earth. Ann thought about the bodyguards as the plane touched down on the runway. So much protection. She couldn’t detect any danger, but maybe there were things she couldn’t understand.
After taxiing to the private aircraft terminal, the jet’s door opened and airport staff placed a staircase against the door descending to the tarmac. Five very wary men left the plane and descended the stairs, looking in every direction. When they reached the tarmac, they formed a circle with the center large enough to contain three people. They stood, warily shifting their focus all around.
Just a few seconds passed before Lee, then Cassie and last, Ann took the steps down to the tarmac. Cassie said, “This is massive overkill. I don’t know why I listened to Avram. We didn’t need all five of you. This is just a vacation.”
Lee waved his arm, “Let it be. Think of it as being best for Ann’s safety.”
The group of eight walked cautiously to the limousine that sat waiting at the end of the tarmac. JD opened the door and smiled. “Please, be seated. We’ll take care of your luggage.”
Lester entered the car first and sat behind the wheel. Ari took the front passenger seat. He said, “This one is armor plated with bomb-proof undercarriage and bullet-proof tires and windows. I got it from the CEO of a software company. Larry’s become more security conscious since the incident in Malaysia last year. He isn’t scheduled to travel this week. He didn’t even charge us much.” Lester turned the engine and the car moved onto the airport’s exit road.
Ann looked out the windows at the scenery of the Bay Area. The ride to Half Moon Bay would take less than an hour. They took highway 280 north, passing tall hills with yellow grass and tawny trees, starved of water from the typical lack of summer rain.
Lee muttered to Cassie, “This is the first time in five years I’ve been within a few hundred miles of home,” and Ann wondered if they’d schedule a trip for her to meet his parents soon. But Lee hadn’t mentioned this or any plans to Ann, and she wondered if Lee and his parents stayed in touch.
They passed a sign that stated a golf course was ahead. There were men in carts, scooting along what looked like a massive lawn, but what drew her attention was the color of the water in the long chain of lakes below the golfers. As they reached the intersection of highway 92, Ann craned her head west, looking at the long, thin blue waters. “Wow. So pretty.”
Cassie smiled. “We’re about to pass over the San Andreas Fault, the most active earthquake fault in the United States. They placed a reservoir over the fault line here and you can’t see how deep the crack in the earth’s crust is.”
Ann gulped. “When was the last time it shook?”
“The last big
one was in 1989. I was about five years old, just arrived home from school. My parents’ house moved like a ballet dancer. There was some minor damage to the house. Nothing that couldn’t be repaired. When the shaking stopped, about eighteen seconds later, we found the quake was serious enough that it closed most roads for a few days. We didn’t have electricity or water for a full day. And some houses close to the epicenter of the quake were totally ruined. They had to be torn down and rebuilt. We lost a bridge, a highway, and many lives.”
The limo gradually climbed the narrow, twisty highway up over twelve hundred feet to the crest of King Mountain and Ann saw the Pacific Ocean for the first time. Her jaw dropped as her eyes stared at the bright blue sparkling stretch when the car rounded the curve just past the intersection of Highway 35 and started down into the canyon toward Half Moon Bay. “How cool.”
The house sat in Montara, a foggy area west of Highway 1, in a sharply sloping field crowded with homes. The slope ended as a bluff at the edge of the ocean. Cassie mentioned, “Most of the homes were built within the last twenty-five years. This house, older, probably once had a view of the Pacific before the newer houses were built. It was a nondescript, aging brown ranch with a porch now facing a newer house across the street.
As the limo reached 409 Farallone Avenue and slowed, there was no one visible outside. It was midafternoon on Friday and most people were at work, many of them at least twenty-five miles away, either in San Francisco or close to San Jose. The five bodyguards all checked their handguns before anyone could leave the limo.
JD and Lester emerged and shielded Cassie as she walked past a trellis of red and yellow tea roses to the front door and rang the doorbell
