by T C Miller
“Will I ever get you to loosen up and refer to it as a breech birth, like everybody else?”
“Haven’t in eighteen years, so why would I start now? Besides, dystocia covers more than one
condition, if you want to get technical. There’s…”
“Okay, okay, sorry I mentioned it,” she said with a laugh. “Call it whatever you want, as long as you aren’t late for supper.”
“Speaking of which, my knees went weak coming down the tunnel with the delicious smells from the kitchen. Wouldn’t be your famous pot roast, would it?”
“It is, indeed, my love, with potatoes, onions, carrots and of course, brown gravy.”
“Did I detect the scent of homemade apple pie mixed in?”
“Can’t fool you, can I? A la mode or whipped cream?”
“A monumental decision like dessert topping requires serious study, so I’ll delay the choice till after supper. Next question, love of my life, is how soon? My mouth is watering so much I’m afraid I’ll start drooling on myself.”
“Yuck, I didn’t need that image. Go wash up, and I’ll have it on the table before you’re done.”
Doc finished saying grace, “And dear Lord, please watch over anybody who has to be outside as this storm moves in. We ask these things in the name of
your son, Jesus Christ, amen.”
“Doesn’t look that bad on the monitors.”
“One of the few things I don’t like about living underground is not being able to smell the weather and listen to the wind. Have you checked the TV weather?”
“Satellite’s out again,” Mary replied. “I didn’t feel like trekking up to the grove to see what happened to the dish.”
“Probably a creature nesting on it again. I’m going to check everything before dark, and I’ll chase it away. This storm may turn bad.”
“I trust your instinct more than I do the weathermen.”
“Thank you. My arthritis is about as good at predicting the weather.”
Doc came back an hour later. “A squirrel was blocking the dish with a nest. Hated to disturb the little critter, but he’ll have to find another place to settle in for the winter. Good news is heaters are working in the water troughs. I put extra feed out for the livestock, plugged the block heaters in on the outside vehicles, and made sure the heat is on low in the entrance building. Should cover everything.”
“Sounds like it Now for the hard part, ice cream or whipped cream?”
“Surprise me.”
Hideaway Lounge In Georgetown, Maryland
“Why do you insist on meeting in this dump?” Hans Boerman posed the question to Jack Morgan. “A plethora of nicer establishments are within a few kilometers.”
“Kilometers? You’re in America, Kraut. Use miles, and plethora is not common here.”
“One of the benefits of a classical education is an adequate vocabulary.”
“In our line of work? A good armory is better. So why are you in this business instead of teaching?”
Hans smiled. “More money with less work, and more excitement. Besides, punching a time clock never had much appeal.”
“Agreed.” Morgan slid a folder across the glass-ring stained, pockmarked wood of the worn table.
Hans flipped the cheap folder open and peered at the meager contents. “Not much here….”
“What do you expect? We’re talking about a top-tier strike team whose missions are classified sky-high. They don’t line up for group photos. These were taken a week ago at FE Warren Air Force Base in Wyoming by an operative of mine. It’s the best he could get with a concealed camera. Does give you a good look at Bart Winfield, one of the targets I want you to take out.”
“The name rings a bell. Who are the women?”
“Dark-haired one is his wife, Nora, and the blonde is one of his agents, Joanna Davies. The other man is Jake Thomas. They’re part of the BlackStar Ops Group.”
“A wife as an agent? Never a good idea, and I speak from personal experience.”
“Same here, but it works for them.”
“What if they get in the way?”
“Consider them collateral damage.”
“Extra fee?”
“How about a hundred thou each?”
Hans suddenly remembered who Bart Winfield was. He considered negotiating a higher fee but considered the mental stability of the rogue agent across the booth. “Adequate. Who’s the other target?”
“Now for the sticky part.” Jack slid a second folder over.
Boerman opened the dossier and whistled low. “The Director of the NSA? Are you serious?”
“As the proverbial heart attack. Banner’s been a thorn in my side since he headed the NSA’s West Coast office. Now he’s in a position to do real damage to my operation.”
“I don’t understand. Everyone thought you died in Seawind Bay, so why would he still be after you?”
“Not me, my smuggling operations. Banner is still tracking them and takes an unusual interest in supplying other government agencies with intel. Been doing it for years, but it’s gotten worse since my so-called death.”
“Could he consider them vulnerable with you out of the picture?”
Morgan slapped the table hard enough to knock an empty drink glass over.
The bartender glanced over his shoulder to see what the commotion was, then went back to watching a baseball game on a tiny television above the bar.
Morgan stretched across the booth table. “I’m not out of the picture, and I need him gone ASAP. That’s all you need to know. I’ll pay half-a-million if you get it done fast.”
“How soon?”
“Yesterday would be great.”
***
Chapter Five
Wyoming State Highway 487 North of Medicine Bow, Wyoming
“Are they still following us?” Licia Martinez leaned toward the front seat and made no attempt to disguise her fear.
“Don’t know for sure anybody was,” Jake replied. He skillfully guided the Blazer as strong crosswinds pushed the heavy vehicle from different angles.
Licia scowled. “I thought we got past treating me like a child. I heard tension in your voice earlier, so be straight with me.”
“I may have overreacted to a car that happened to take the same exit.”
“Yet, you say you don’t believe in coincidence, so was it a tail, or not?”
“Well….” Jake’s reply was cut short by a dull pop and the sound of frayed tire cord slapping against a wheel well. The steering wheel developed a mind of its own, and. Jake fought to regain control of the massive SUV. It skipped to the shoulder and came to a bumpy stop. “Blowout, no big deal.”
“You didn’t hear gunfire?” Joanna asked in a low whisper.
“I heard a pop from the tire, but….”
“No, right before the tire blew. Unless I’m mistaken, I heard rifle fire from a distance on my side.” She ducked down at the sound of another shot.
Jake checked the backseat passengers. Licia was slumped down in the seat pale-faced with a terrified look.
Star was stirring from another nap. “Hey, what’s going on?” she asked while lazily stretching.
“Grab your coats and backpacks and come out the driver’s side,” Jake ordered.
“But it’s cold out there.” Star whined. “Do we have to get out?”
“Quit asking questions, grab your coat, and get out
NOW.”
“Okay, Rambo, don’t have to go all drill sergeant on me. You’re not my boss, you know.”
Licia grabbed Star’s arm and squeezed hard.
“Ow, you’re hurting me.”
“Because I’m scared. Their job is to keep us safe, so when they say jump, we say how high, and how far. Got it?”
“Wow, I thought you were my friend. Wait, are we in trouble?”
“They don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. Until Jake and Joanna figure it out, we do exactly as they say.”
“All right, I g
et it,” Star answered in a shaky voice. She slipped her boots on, grabbed her parka, and began crawling across the seat.
Licia flung the door open and cautiously stepped out onto the slick pavement. Star was a scant second behind her. Licia caught Star when she lost her footing on the icy roadway.
Jake opened the driver’s door and slipped out of the truck. He reached across the center console, took Joanna’s hand, and pulled her toward him. “I’m working on a defensive strategy. Looks like they’re up in those trees.”
“I see muzzle flashes,” Joanna replied. “Gotta get my ‘16 and ammo out of the back.”
“You brought a rifle on a ski trip?” Star whispered.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
Star gave Licia a puzzled look.
Licia attempted a grin. “Okay, I have weird friends, but they know what they’re doing.”
“Whatever,” Star said. She stood next to the vehicle while donning her parka.
“Crouch down,” Jake ordered.
“Okay. Give me a break, will you? I’m still waking up.”
They crouched beside the Blazer and Jake began talking like it was a mission briefing. “Listen up, ladies. I won’t blow smoke at you, we have a serious situation. I’ll check it out while you stay here with Joanna….”
“Why can’t we wait in the truck?” Star mumbled.
“It’s a lot warmer.”
“Because you’re a sitting duck in there.”
Star’s eyes widened in fright. “Sitting duck? Are you for real?”
Licia broke in, “They saved my butt more than once, Star. We need to do exactly what they say.”
Star stared down at the increasingly thick coat of snow on the two-lane blacktop road. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
“Good to hear.”
Jake and Joanna moved toward the back of the vehicle. “I’ll open the back hatch while you wait here, so both of us aren’t exposed at the same time,” he said.
“Understood. I’ll reach around and take the gear from you.”
Joanna peered through the windows of the vehicle while the pile of gear at her feet grew steadily larger. “There’s a grove of junipers on the hillside the snipers are using for concealment.”
Jake closed the hatch and moved back to Joanna with two M16 rifles. “You’re right, there’s more than one shooter. If they’re pros, they’ll use one to pin us down while the others outflank us. I’m going to check out the tires.” He was back in less than a minute. “Both shredded. You were right on target about the rifle fire.”
“Was that a pun?” She saw an annoyed look beginning to form on his face. “Sorry, I was trying to keep it light.”
“Actually, I like it when you kid around.” Jake grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Back to the situation at hand. Cover and shelter are the first priorities. Temperature is dropping like a rock.”
“Yes, although I do like the fresh smell of snow whipping up in my face.”
“Me too. It’s one reason I like winter camping. That, and fewer people. It does seem to be getting a little crowded around here for my tastes.”
“Same here,” Joanna said. “You don’t suppose this is a modern-day highway bandit thing, do you? Who knew we’d be anywhere close to this spot? Our itinerary was furnished to people on a need-to-know basis, and we changed our route because of the blocked highway. How would anybody know that?”
“Maybe we were conned into going this way.”
“Thought crossed my mind. Could be random, but I don’t believe in coincidences either,” Joanna said.
“My gut tells me it isn’t, and if we’re the targets, it’s an inside job,” Jake replied.
“Who could it be, and why do we have a bullseye on our back?”
“No idea. Maybe I’m a being a little paranoid, but that’s what happens when people shoot at you. There could be some other explana…”
A gunshot shattered the passenger side window.
They crouched down as Star whimpered in terror.
“I guess she’s finally awake,” Jake whispered to Joanna.
Surefire Uranium Mine, Shirley Basin, Wyoming
“Plan is working, Bocc,” Ivan said from his perch on an old shipping crate.
“Da,” Gregori Yancy grunted in reply. “I will soon possess account numbers for overseas accounts. Then we move to country where extradition to United States is not possible.” He settled back in a rickety wooden office chair.
“What of bombs?”
“Why do you ask? I am wary when employee asks such questions,” Yancy replied with a scowl. “You are mere assistant, not partner.”
“Sorry, Bocc, I only wish to help. English confuses what I say. We speak in Russian, yes?”
“Nyet. I hire men who do not speak English to keep secrets from them. I do not trust anyone with fortune at stake. Do you think I am fool?”
Ivan smiled before answering, “I would not work for you if you are fool.”
Gregori let loose a hearty laugh. “Is true.”
“Back to men, Bocc. Many are not happy with this place. They say is cold and damp. Reminds them of labor camps.”
“I pay much money for them to endure minor hardships.”
“They are grateful, I am sure, but they ask how long we stay here.”
“We leave soon. I wait for answer from buyers. They say price is acceptable, but they must consult with partners.”
“Is good news, Bocc. But what if partners say no?”
“They will say yes. Nuclear weapons will give them instant recognition in international community.”
Ivan stared at Yancy for a while and spoke slowly,
“There is matter I wish to discuss.”
“Da, what is it?”
“I want partnership.”
“Is hard for one person to run business alone. I, myself think you would be fine partner. But there is obstacle. Eichner was partner because he had money.
You have money to invest?”
“Would hundreds of millions be enough?”
Yancy belly-laughed. “Where would poor Cossack get such money?”
“Secret bank accounts.”
A frown spread across Yancy’s face. “Tell me more.”
“I play cards with maintenance men. One works on team to recover body of Rick Eichner. He takes key from around neck of Eichner. I win card game, so he
gives me key to settle debt.”
“Where is key?”
“In safe place. I will trade for fifty-percent share of business.”
“Is worth nothing to you without location of accounts…fifteen percent.”
“We split difference at thirty, yes?” Ivan snapped back.
“Final offer is twenty-five.”
“I am not greedy. We have deal, yes?” They vigorously shook hands.
Ivan grinned and said, “This is beginning of successful partnership, Bocc.”
“Do not call me boss anymore. We are partners.”
“Yes, bo…I mean comrade Yancy.”
“Gregori is good. Tell men do not unload crates from trucks. Quick departure may be required. Has
team returned from airstrip with our guest?”
“Soon. Who is this man?”
“A specialist of the mind. He extracts information from subject, even one who does not want to cooperate,” Gregori said with a smile. “He will prove useful when we have Martinez here.”
“I will go with team to capture women.”
“Good. Tell me when you have women, but do not forget, two American agents with her must die.” “They will not see another sunrise.”
NSA Headquarters, Fort Meade, Maryland
“Got a minute?” Nora Winfield asked as she rapped lightly on the door of Bart’s private office.
“For you, darlin’? Anytime.” Bart laid down the pen he was using to take notes and sat up straight.
Nora sat on the edge of the leather sofa facing the desk, took off a stylish blue and white spectator p
ump and gingerly rubbed her foot. “I forgot what a pain high heels can be.”
“Yes, but you look so nice in them.”
“Thanks, but they still hurt. On the other hand, if I want to be a DC bureaucrat, I have to look the part. Anyway, I came in to tell you I’ve made headway on the leak. IT gave me worksheets of every employee to chart work patterns, and I’m zeroing in on repeated time out of the building.”
“The reason?”
“Nobody’s stupid enough to use an agency phone for illicit contacts. They would leave the building to contact their handler.
“Anything turn up?”
“It’s still early, but I checked out a few red flags with Internal Affairs. We agreed most are affairs, if you’ll pardon the bad pun.”
Bart grinned. “In a government office? I am so shocked.”
“IA is aware of most, but usually doesn’t act, as long as they’re consenting adults.”
“Can’t say I disagree, unless they’re in the same chain of command.”
“You mean supervisory chain, don’t you?”
“Right. Will I ever shake military terms?”
“Not likely, and I love you in spite of it, or maybe because of it. Anyway, I’m going through the list and flagging higher-level employees who have access to sensitive information being leaked.”
“Sounds like you have it firmly under control, as usual.”
“Thanks. Anyway, I’d better let you get back to pushing paper.”
“It is what we do now, isn’t it?” Bart grinned again.
“Yes, and I already miss field work. I feel insulated from the real world in this puzzle palace.”
“Me, too.”
She turned around when she reached the door and blew him a kiss.
Bart returned it and savored the lingering smell of her perfume before he resumed marking up the file.
Surefire Uranium Mine, Shirley Basin, Wyoming
Gregori Yancy propped his feet up on a wooden desk with only three original legs. A scrap piece of 2x4 lumber nailed to the fourth corner replaced the missing support. Dust covered every horizontal surface in the old glass-windowed office and caused him to sneeze.
He blew his nose on a linen handkerchief, and it turned brown. Yancy plucked a satellite phone off the desk and stepped out of the wooden shack. A weathered sign above the door declared it the office of a long-forgotten Mine Superintendent.
