Devlin Sub Rosa: Book Three of the Devlin Quatrology

by Jake Devlin

  “Or maybe we could just have a team grab him at the cemetery and waterboard it outa him. I know, right? It would be ironic. Yeah, I know; just a thought.

  “So when do you think – really? That soon? Yeah, we can be ready. Okay, I'll – hey, Carie, we can be ready to fly to Caracas by Thursday noon, right?”

  “Yeah, no problem, JB. The training course starts there?”

  “Nope, a real job, maybe several over the next year.”

  “Who's the target?”

  “We'll find out on Thursday, Amber says.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Yeah, Amber, we'll be there Thursday by noon. Which plane? Oh, cool; yeah, we love that one. Alex and Micah still flying it? Cool. Okay; good. All set. Bye.

  “Okay, Carie, we're on our way to the inner circle! Whee!”

  “So now we've got to focus and compartmentalize.”

  - 33 -

  June 17, 2013

  11:24 p.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “Sorry you had to drive all the way home, Pam.”

  “And I'm sorry you twisted your back when you tackled him.”

  “This water is helping a lot.”

  “Hot tubs are miraculous.”

  “Absolutely. But I think I'm getting too old for this close-in stuff.”

  “Oh, Jake, you'll be fine in a day or two.”

  “I hope so; it's taking longer and longer every time. But you played your part really well. You looked so submissive, and like five inches shorter.”

  “Pizza cake in that big black robe and veil. But I'd never seen you looking so much like a sheik, and with so little makeup.”

  “A beard hides a lot. So do the robes and sunglasses.”

  “I can see why you got into the Chameleons. Still got it. And your Arabic was almost perfect.”

  “Almost?”

  “Only one word wrong, just before you killed him.”

  “What word?”

  “You told him he wasn't going to Paradise, so he'd never see the 72 'vaginas,' not 72 'virgins.'”

  “Oh, I meant to say that. Did you catch the look on his face?”

  “Ah. Yeah; but I thought he was just scared of the needle.”

  “Well, there was that, but just before I stuck him, I gave him that vagina line, and his fear turned into shock and then resignation, just a tiny flicker, but it was there.”

  “I think he might have still been thinking about the pig's blood in the syringe.”

  “There wasn't any; just good ol' DP974 and some food coloring. I lied, even to the client.”

  “Really? Not real blood?”

  “Nah. The client just wanted him believing. You got his face on the video, right?”

  “Yeah; full closeup, including the needle going into his neck, then I zoomed out for his writhing and dying.”

  “Well, that's what the client wanted, so we're all set. Believers are so gullible.”

  “Gullible?”

  “Yeah. Do you believe that pig's blood would have any real effect on what happens to him or his so-called soul after he's dead?”

  “Ah, no.”

  “Voila. Gullible.”

  “And double the fee for that little drama, right?”

  “Yup. Forty mill. And from another believer, equally gullible.”

  “So much gullibility in the world.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So is Stevie Bruce feeling gullible?”

  “Oh, I think he could be taken in.”

  “And Ginny May could be talked into doing just that. Here again or should we head into the bedroom?”

  “Here, if that's okay with you. These jets are doing wonders for my back.”

  “You just relax and leave everything to me. I'll be gentle.”

  - 34 -

  June 20, 2013

  1:27 a.m. local time

  Cyber Vigilance Division, NSA HQ

  Fort Meade, Maryland

  “That hacker's back, Dutch.”

  “CIA files again?”

  “Yeah, looks like it.”

  “You backtracking him?”

  “Yeah. Coming from Iceland, bounced from Switzerland, not sure where that – ah, from Laos” –

  “Laos to Switzerland? Big jump.”

  “Yup. Hang on – ah, New Zealand, and – hold on a sec. Chile” –

  “Chile?”

  “Right. Ah, Paraguay – um – ah, Zimbabwe – Bulgaria – oh, he's good. But I'm” –

  “Better. Yes, you are, Betsy.”

  “And now – wait one – Iran? Iran? How the” –

  “And” –

  “Oh, shit; he's gone.”

  1:28 p.m. local time

  Undisclosed location

  “Shut it down, Nadia, NOW!”

  “Got it, Phil. Offline.”

  “How close did they get?”

  “Only to Bulgaria, maybe Iran. But I used twelve more bounces, so I'm pretty sure we're safe.”

  “Whew. Did we get anything?”

  “Nada.”

  “Shit.”

  - 35 -

  June 18, 2013

  9:04 a.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “So when I got to the point where, on one hand, I was bringing in more than two-thirds of the security business's revenues and making a nice income on commissions, but on the other hand, I was getting underused on the assassination side and getting nothing above my government salary for those hits, I finally decided it was time to make the break. This was right after the Hoover job in May '72 and after the blitz kill lists came out.”

  “You were part of that, too?”

  “Yup. But there was a wrinkle there.”

  “A wrinkle? We never heard about any problems with that.”

  “Yeah, they covered it up, even inside the Agency.”

  “What was the wrinkle?”

  “Actually, there were several, especially the fact that the kill list had a lot of innocents on it, not actually KGB.”

  “Bad intel?”

  “In part, but in part it was just a bunch of guys in the Agency that had some personal vendettas and managed to get names onto the lists that went out to the handlers and the hit squads, names that shouldn't have been on them. I knew that at least two of the ones on my list were innocent, but I also knew that the lists all went out to two separate squads.

  “I didn't move fast enough on one of them, and the other team got him, but I did manage to get to a guy named Anatoly first and we got him off the grid, faked his death, got him new papers and let him join our new company. He died in '85 or '86, natural causes.”

  “Was he the one that Amber helped with?”

  “Yeah, and Gordy, too. Anatoly was a midlevel KGB agent in his mid-fifties, but I'd turned him in '69, and he'd doubled for us for almost three years. So when the list got to me, I knew there was some kind of screwup. I only found out in '80 or '81 that it was a paperwork problem in the records section; they didn't have him listed as a double.”

  “Geez, that sucks; more bureaucratic incompetence.”

  “Got that right. Anyhow, when the courier brought our list, Gordy and I were about to meet with Amber in Marseille to discuss our plans for the new security business. When I saw Anatoly's name on there, my first inclination was to call my handler and let him know there was an error, that he shouldn't be on the list. But then Gordy reminded me what an asshole my handler was, and that went along with my thinking, so I never contacted him.

  “That evening, while we were meeting with Amber, we talked about that, as well as our plans, and Amber suggested that we get him out of Rome, where he was assigned, and fake his death. The next day we flew to Rome, found him, let him know what was up, and he went along with it all.

  “There was no DNA testing back in '72, but we drew some of his blood, then staged his body for photos – Amber did great makeup – and claimed him as a kill. Sent the photos and blood sample back to Langley, sent him off to Fiji wit
h his new papers for a few months, and then got back in touch with him once we had the new company set up. He got some plastic surgery and joined us as a bodyguard and salesman and then as a shooter once that side of the business took off. Gave him the name 'The Cobra' from my collection.

  “Gordy and I took care of the rest of our list in a month, fifteen kills all over Europe, and then made our break.”

  - 36 -

  October 31, 2013

  6:18 p.m. local time

  Above Long Island Sound, New York, USA

  “I just don't know how to stop him without blowing our cover.”

  “We'll figure something out, hon.”

  “You've seen how he's been trying to provoke me, itching for a fight.”

  “Yeah, but you could take him if it came to that.”

  “Hell, Linda, you could take him.”

  “Yeah, I probably could.”

  “Remember that clown in the City?”

  “The paint-throwing animal rights idiot?”

  “Yeah; when you were wearing Mrs. Payne's coat. He never knew what hit him.”

  “He sure didn't. That was kinda fun.”

  “Fun?”

  “Well, only a little bit. Can't hurt if ya get the job done.”

  “Yeah, okay. But that runt was only about half the size of our neighbor.”

  “Yeah. He's what, like six-three, six-four, 240, 250 pounds?”

  “Something like that. And he's trained; spotted that the day he moved in.”

  “I could still take him. So could you.”

  “But not without blowing our covers.”

  “When we're done with this job, we'll put our heads together and sort it all out, Wayne; I'm sure we can – Jesus! That was a close one.”

  “Nine one thousand, ten one thousand, eleven one thousand, twelve one thousand, thirteen one – okay, two and a half miles away. Closer than I'd like.”

  “Should we go back a ways?”

  “Yeah, maybe a couple miles. Hang on.”

  “Is that gonna mess with our radar?”

  “It might, but probably not. Especially when we get further away.”

  “Good. Anyhow, when we finish this – wait, wait. What's that?”

  “That blip? It may be our target. Hang on; lemme slide up a few hundred feet or so.”

  “Think he's spotted us?”

  “If he's got radar in that little puddle-jumper, he has. Remember, he's an ex-Air Force pilot. He'll just think we're getting outa his way, giving him some vertical clearance.”

  “And he's alone for sure?”

  “Yup. The KSK triplets followed him from NSA HQ to the airport, saw him climb into the plane alone and take off, flight plan for Nantucket. So yup, he's by himself.”

  “So no worries about collaterals. Good.”

  “Okay, here he comes – oops, turned off course; probably trying to go around the storm.”

  “Can we catch up with him?”

  “Of course. I'll get into his blind spot, above and behind.”

  “The '61's charged and ready. Video's recording.”

  “Good. Okay, here we go; hang on. Could get a little rough.”

  “A little rough? What the hell was that? Jesus!”

  “Air pocket. Bad one. Got him, too.”

  “Think he saw us?”

  “Nope; he's – sonofabitch! There he goes.”

  “Guess he did see us. Go, go, go!”

  “Climbing; he's trying to loop us.”

  “Don't let him” --

  “Oh, he's good.”

  “But you're better, Wayne. Go, go, go.”

  “Ah, got him. Lining up. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Oh, shit. He's” –

  “Go, go, go!”

  “Ready?”

  “Lined up … and locked.”

  “Take the shot, Linda. Take the shot.”

  “And – oh, crap! No shot, no shot.”

  “Shit, shit, shit! He's” –

  “Left, left, dive, dive!”

  “What the hell? He's heading right into it!”

  “Don't lose him!”

  “Maybe this is good. If they ever find the wreckage, they'll think it was lightning. Okay, lining up.”

  “Lined up.”

  “Take the shot!”

  “Locked. And … and … got him! Happy Halloween, asshole!”

  “Bravo, Linda; direct – what the hell? What's he carrying, TNT?”

  “Up, up, up. Jesus, Wayne, that was close!”

  “Holy shit! Did not expect that. Wasn't it just supposed to fry his electronics?”

  “The beam musta zapped something near his gas tank.”

  “Geez, Linda, that was the biggest fireball I've ever seen. Hang on! That storm's all around us. Shit!”

  “Air pocket again?”

  “Nope, just some major turbulence. Full throttle. Hang on and cross your fingers.”

  “Hanging on. Fingers crossed.”

  “Ah, clear sky.”

  “Sending video to Amber.”

  “Time to haul ass home.”

  “Where another five million euros should be waiting.”

  “Will be waiting, Linda, will be waiting.”

  “Right; will be waiting.”

  “As will our goddamn neighbor.”

  “Right. Well, we'll just have to deal with him when we get back.”

  “And the whole neighborhood thought it'd be great to have a cop move in.”

  “Yeah, we did, didn't we?”

  “What're the chances he'd be one of the bad ones?”

  “The corrupt ones.”

  “The big ego, big bluster ones.”

  “The bullies.”

  “Petty assholes.”

  “I don't know, Wayne. 50-50? More? Less?”

  - 37 -

  June 18, 2013

  9:26 a.m. local time

  St. Tropez, France

  “Now, we didn't make a clean break. Gordy and I both stayed with the security biz, but through a series of shell corporations, I set up a new company, Optimum Protection, in the Cayman Islands, with offices in London and Dallas. I set up new identities for me, for Gordy and for Amber.”

  “Not for Wes?”

  “Nah, Wes was fine, no intelligence ties, just private sector. We set him up as the COO of O-P, using his own name. I was the shadow CEO, but as Harry Jackson.”

  “Pretty generic name.”

  “Yeah. And Gordy and Amber were both VPs.

  “But it was hard to build a competing business and yet stay under the radar, anonymous.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “Well, at first we didn't compete directly. We started out with the bodyguard side, hired ex-military, mostly from the US and UK, but none with intelligence experience or ties, used the most charismatic of them as salespeople, and gradually built the biz up for a couple years before we got into security system installs. And by then, the guard biz was going really well, with great revenues, margins and net profits, most of which we kept in the biz, just taking minimal salaries.

  “Our first security install was in '74, for a mob boss on Long Island; it was state-of-the-art for the time, and we managed to put in some primitive eavesdropping stuff with the alarm and in-house monitoring systems. We did an upgrade for him in the fall of '78, just in time to pick up part of a conversation about the Lufthansa robbery at JFK in December.”

  “Did you do anything with that info, report it to anyone?”

  “Nope; just stored it in the files. It wasn't clear enough to do anything with it, just a quick mention. We didn't make the connection until after the robbery happened, and we were still trying to stay way under the radar.

  “That guy became one of our private assassination clients right after the robbery; Gordy and I did three jobs for him over the first part of '79. We set them all up through cutouts, so he thought he was dealing with a single assassin named The Scarlet Ninja. It would have been four jo
bs, but the first target was a woman and we turned that down. I think he did her himself.

  “But we did do a guy in Connecticut in March, and another guy in March, too. But the second guy's wife was there, so we had to do her, too, which bothered both of us a lot. We disappeared their bodies, no problem, but we couldn't get rid of the guy in Connecticut, got interrupted, had to leave his body where it fell. The two guys were both money-launderers for the Lufthansa heist, and maybe they cheated our client. And we told ourselves the second guy's wife was probably involved; that sorta helped us deal with it.

  “The third was a double kill, and he wanted both of the guys shot in the back of the head, execution style, to send a message. But he wanted to keep his boys out of it. So Gordy and I did that job in May of '79. The targets were both supervisors at the airport, and our client had heard they were going to accept the FBI's offer of witness protection in exchange for their testimony. He paid us 50K for each of the three jobs, a lot of bucks for that time.”

  “So you moved from being sanctioned CIA assassins to being mob hit men?”

  “Yup.”

  - 38 -

  November 28, 2013

  10:17 a.m. local time

  Bonita Beach, Florida

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Ro.”

  “And to you, Gordy.”