by T C Miller
“Only if they blow up a major city...The Director would’ve responded immediately...”
“I am not the Director.” Marvin’s voice started to rise. He took a drink of cold stale coffee and wrinkled his nose. “This course of action is the most prudent use of Agency resources given the parameters that were presented...Live with it...And don’t call me again unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“Like when we’re in radiation suits picking through the rubble? ” Bart inhaled deeply. “This isn’t the end of...”
The line went dead. He hung up on me!
Bart dialed the Director’s home phone. It was busy and no answering device came on.
He’d try the number later. Bart was relieved when John Banner, the Director of West Coast operations answered his private number.
Banner listened without interrupting. “Let me make a few behind-the-scenes calls and see if I can come up with some answers...Not particularly fond of Hawkins myself, but this sounds a little strange...even for him. There may be something else going on. I’ll call you soon as I have something solid.”
“Thanks, John...Wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it. But figure it’s time to bring it up when it starts interfering with an investigation...Knew you’d respond without all the bureaucratic bull.”
“Glad you contacted me...Like I said, I’ll look into it. In the meantime, find Eichner before he does something we’ll all regret.”
***
CHAPTER 9
CONSORTIUM HEADQUARTERS
LEIPSIG, SWITZERLAND
“Excuse me, why are you in here?” the security guard asked in a tone that was a cross between curiosity and stern authority. “This is a private area.”
Gunter smiled as casually as he could and replied, “I have a rather nasty habit...” He reached into his suit jacket.
The guard unsnapped the holster on his uniform belt and drew his weapon in one smooth move. “Hold it right there!”
“Whoa, there, friend...Relax...Trying to show you my cigarettes. The no smoking policy here is killing me...Sneaked in here because the room was empty...Thought I could grab a puff or two before I returned to a meeting.”
“So you chose the private office of the Commissioner?”
“That’s who this belongs to? Wondered why it was so nice. Sorry...I’ll skip the smoke and head back to the conference room...”
He moved toward the door.
The guard held up his hand in a classic traffic cop motion and placed it on Gunter’s chest. His other hand reached for the radio microphone clipped to the epaulette of his shirt. “Wait, one moment...This must be reported to...”
His words were stopped by a ridge-hand strike to the larynx. The blow crushed his windpipe and he brought both hands to his neck in a tardy attempt to protect himself.
Gunter stepped behind the suffocating man and grabbed his chin. His other hand went to the back of the guard’s head and he snapped his neck with a powerful twist.
The guard sank to his knees and attempted a few gurgling breaths before collapsing to the floor. His left heel spasmodically drummed against the thick carpet. Gunter placed two fingers on the man’s neck and detected no pulse.
He stood and opened the door enough to reveal no one in the hallway. The door closed quietly behind him and he hurried back to the conference room.
MOUNTAIN VIEW TRUCK STOP
NEAR LONGMONT, COLORADO
“Crew finished transferring of weapons,” Gregori said to Rick. The fake DOE semi had its rear doors open and was backed up to the rear of another semi that bore the name of a fictitious food service company.
The arrangement made it easy to slide material into the other truck with pallet jacks and provided privacy. The driver pulled forward as the loading crew hopped in and closed the doors.
“They will ride in back of truck to new destination,” Rick said. “Is comfortable and lighted.”
“Is good you concern yourself with welfare of men.”
“I would not care if they were in the dark, but experience tells me men who are rested fight better.”
“True, but you gave no vodka to them...”
“I gave enough for two drinks each...Crazy I am not. Relaxed crew is one thing...Drunken is something else, no?”
“You understand mercenaries better than anyone I know, except myself. You have said destination is near...Have friends in Consortium arranged sanctuary?”
“Yes, but is better we do not explain to men,” Rick answered. “If detained, they will have no clues to our location.”
“Many have been in prison here and in Mother Russia...They will persevere. Bonuses at end of mission will help...Most would work five years at former jobs to earn as much. Still, I worry if they will stay loyal.”
“They will...or die.”
EXECUTIVE CONFERENCE ROOM
CONSORTIUM HEADQUARTERS
SWISS ALPS
The Commissioner contemplated his reply to a question from the regional commissioner of the United Kingdom. He made eye contact with each of the six men and one woman seated around the massive walnut table.
Finally, he spoke, “Am I willing to risk total annihilation at the hands of other intelligence organizations? The answer is more complex than a simple yes or no. Do I want to unnecessarily antagonize them? No, that would be foolish. As powerful as we are, our advantage lies in being invisible. A direct provocation would leave us vulnerable to discovery and open us to condemnation from world powers against whom our organization would, in all probability, meet its demise.
“A covert approach that will cement our capabilities and provide a shield against destruction is what I have in mind. It is similar to one during the Cold War known as MAD, or Mutually Assured Destruction...”
“Pardon me for interrupting,” interjected the UK representative. “But that was based upon adversaries who possessed thermonuclear weapons...I fail to see any parallel.”
“At present there is none. However, in all likelihood, that is about to change,” the leader replied.
“Are you telling me we have gained access to nuclear weapons?”
“Not quite yet...but in the near future.”
“How?”
The Commissioner hesitated before continuing, “I don’t wish to appear evasive in my answer, but am reluctant to discuss a current operation until it is successful.”
The commissioner from the Balkans stirred in his seat. He was a rotund man who always seemed to smell of cabbage and borscht. He took a labored breath and spoke, “We are the Commission and yet it appears you are keeping details of a potentially disastrous operation from us...How is this so?”
The Commissioner’s face reddened. “It might appear that way, but I can assure you, it is done only for operational considerations...”
Degas, the South American representative turned to the commissioner for the Far East and said sotto voce, “I do not believe my ears...Are we now keeping secrets from each other? Our charter clearly states all commissioners have unfettered access to the affairs of our organization. Has something changed?”
The Commissioner held out his hands in a gesture that begged for patience. “Allow me to digress and bring you up to date on what may be the greatest operation we have ever undertaken. It will command the attention of the world and give us unmatched power...”
Degas interrupted again, “I do not understand...Our goal has always been to operate behind the scenes and now you profess a desire to be known throughout the world. There is too much contradiction between the two goals. Which shall it be...notoriety or power?”
“Perhaps we should consider both.”
“How would we accomplish that?”
“By being the last major power left after a devastating final world war.”
JOHN BANNER’S OFFICE
SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO
“Doctor Carver on line two,” Becky Johnson’s voice came through the intercom.
“Thanks,” John replied as he reached for
the phone. “Doc...been awhile.”
“Please, call me Jim. The doctor stuff is for conferences. You’re right...Haven’t seen each other since last year’s get together in Monterey...Really enjoyed dinner on the wharf.”
“Always better when the seafood’s so fresh it almost jumps off your plate. Sorry, I haven’t kept in touch...Busy with local ops.”
“The Director has kept me up to speed...Hope I don’t need to treat radiation victims.”
“You and me both. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
“I’ll get right to the point...I’m growing concerned about the Director.”
“I know he’s been under the weather...”
“Common knowledge in the Agency...But, I think there’s more to it than a flu bug.”
“How so?”
“First of all, the Director doesn’t get sick. Been his doctor for over twenty years and can count the number of times he’s been under the weather on one hand. This illness has me shaking my head...First I see symptoms of the flu and it looks like it’ll run its normal course...Then it starts all over, like he’s been reinfected...Makes no sense.”
“What about his staff? Could be one of them giving him another round.”
“Mary, his cook, is the only one who’s been in direct contact and shows no signs. Justin, his assistant, has been up a couple of times to play chess and visit...Doesn’t look like he has anything. I don’t have a clue as to why why the Director’s still in bed.”
“I’m worried about him, too, but why call me? You’re the medical expert.”
“Looking for somebody to brainstorm with.”
“All right, then...Treat this like a mental exercise...Start with the known and work toward the unknown, ala, Sherlock Holmes. We know the Director is ill and it was a fairly rapid onset of something we suspect is the flu. Next logical question is where he could have contracted it...At a meeting, maybe?”
“Thought about that...Says he was sequestered in his office all that week preparing an annual congressional report. I double-checked members of his staff who had direct contact and none report any illness like the flu...not even a cold.”
John took a sip of lukewarm coffee while Jim was talking and set the cup down. “What about his driver?”
“Nope...nothing there.”
“You run blood tests?”
“Virus screen a couple of times and a common strain of the flu keeps popping up.”
“What about a tox-screen?”
“Drugs? Didn’t think about that...Director is notorious for refusing just about any prescription...Wait...You think he might have been drugged?”
“Trying to narrow down possible vectors...Might be worth checking, since nothing else seems to fit.”
“I’ll order a battery of tests. If somebody’s drugging him, it’s probably not the usual stuff...have to be a cocktail of toxins.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. You said only three people had access to him the last week or two, right?”
“Me, Mary and Justin, and we’re eating the same food as the Director...Nobody’s come down sick.”
“Justin’s the only one who has unfettered access to the Director’s office with him gone...Could be work-related in some way.”
“Speaking of work...Need to get back to my patient. I’ll call you when I have test results.”
“Thanks, Jim...By the way, have you talked with Marvin Hawkins about this?”
“The AD?...Like talking to a third grader. Man has no business running a lemonade stand, much less the agency...No, I haven’t.”
“Good, let’s keep it that way,” John said.
“Why?...There some problem I need to know about?”
“Can’t say...but think we should keep this close and personal.”
“I can do that...Won’t talk to anybody, except maybe the lab people.”
“Can you send the sample in without bringing up the Director’s name?”
“Suppose so...I’ll make up a name and say it’s a new employee we need to check out. How’s that sound?”
“Fine with me...Can’t let it leak out we’re checking the Director for drugs...You know what the rumor mill would do with that.”
“No telling...I’ll have the Lab Director hand-carry the results to me...Should have an answer in a day or two.”
“Hope it comes back negative.”
“Same here. On the other hand, if there’s a problem, we need to know ASAP.”
“And start an investigation. One way or another, let’s hope it doesn’t blow up in our face.”
John hung up and thought about calling the Director at home. It might raise a few eyebrows, since there was no emergency.
He leaned back in his chair, stretched and watched seagulls on the strip of lawn in front of the building battling each other for some scrap of food. The size of the morsel or its identity meant little as they wheeled in midair, landing only to pick at it and screech at each other. It was the territory that mattered and the prestige of who possessed the prize that was important.
BROWN PALACE HOTEL
DENVER, COLORADO
“Wow, this place is awesome!” Licia stared at the interior of the Palace Dining Room. “Fresh flowers and a piano playing classical music...and look at that buffet...Enough to feed the whole town of Seawind Bay...Smells delicious.”
The room had a quiet air of sophistication that Licia had seldom seen and she drank it in. Crystal chandeliers provided soft light and servers in tuxedo jackets with towels draped over their arms offered assistance with a smile.
She whispered in Star’s ear, “Glad I dressed for this.”
“Mom does and I follow her lead.”
“Almost didn’t recognize her...Expected rock and roll glam and she shows up looking like a matron going to a tea party.”
“Cool, isn’t it? Hardly anybody recognizes her and she uses credit cards with a different name...Great disguise.”
“Can’t believe she drove her own car with just one body guard...Doesn’t she worry about crazed fans trying to get her?”
“Says a crowd of bodyguards attracts weirdoes, since they figure it must be somebody important.”
“Must know...Been at it a long time...”
“Hey, girl, you calling my mother old?”
Licia couldn’t tell if Star was serious. “No...What I mean she’s got lots of experience...”
“Now you’re saying she sleeps around?” Star laughed. “Just messing with you...She has me and I’m in college...Can’t exactly be a teenager.”
Licia breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in reply. “Speaking of...She’s back from the ladies room.”
Joan Jackman approached the table with a white clutch held in front of her with both hands. It matched the wide white belt that circled a slender waist and accented her figure. A peach-colored straight-line skirt that complimented her dark complexion was worn with a matching jacket over a cream-colored blouse. Double rows of pearls around her neck and matching ear rings spoke of a more elegant time. Tan heels set off the outfit and gave her a statuesque appearance.
“Well, girls, are we ready to sample some delicious European cuisine?”
She stated the question as a foregone conclusion, since the ride from the college had taken well over an hour and none of them had breakfast.
The girls sprang from their chairs and followed Joan to the buffet line. They wore simple dark business suits with comfortable flats and brightly colored blouses. Their fresh young faces were mostly devoid of makeup, save for a little lip gloss and a touch of eyeliner.
They soon returned to the table with an assortment of freshly made eggs Benedict that were accompanied by a wide selection of pastries.
Licia was surprised when Joan asked them to bow their heads while she said grace.
“Amen,” Licia said. “Thank you...I was wondering how to bring up the subject of saying thanks...You took care of that.”
“I was raised in a small town in Ohio by my gra
ndparents, who would have skinned me alive if I didn’t.”
“Your bio says you were raised in LA.”
“My agents idea...said it sounded more rock and roll.”
Star joined in, “Half the stuff that gets printed about her is so far out there nobody in their right mind would believe it...like the partying part.”
“Part of the image,” added Joan. “Fans would be devastated to hear my idea of a fun night is staying home with Star and Butterball watching a movie.”
“Butterball?” Licia queried.
“Our French bulldog...Home in LA with my housekeeper. He’s okay on my tour bus, but doesn’t fly well. I came out here to meet with a prospective new bass player and to have lunch with you girls. I’ll fly back on Tuesday...Butterball can survive a few days separation, especially since he gets more than the usual quota of treats.”
“You have an exciting life...Jetting around the world and everything.”
“Lot less exciting than it sounds...Sleeping in hotels or on the bus...Dodging fans who want one more picture...or to grab something as a souvenir...Almost had my clothes torn off on more than one occasion...Thanks to the tabloids, they all feel like they know me...Sorry, I’m venting, aren’t I?”
“I don’t mind,” Licia replied. “But I suppose Star’s heard it a thousand times.”
“Not really,” Star noted. “Mom keeps that part of her life separate...Unless I ask, she doesn’t tell. Every once and awhile something pops up...Like the time I came home and found a fan naked in her bed. He sneaked in because Gloria, our housekeeper, forgot to set the alarm when she left.”
“What did you do?”
Star pulled a key ring out of her pocket and showed Licia a device that looked like the key fob for a car. She swiveled the top to reveal a single red button. “Ran out of the house...Hit the panic button and security was there in a flash to haul him off.”
“I beefed up security after that,” Joan added. “Got new key fobs that are monitored by satellite.”
“Must make you feel better,” Licia noted. Like the one on my key ring.
“Let’s talk about something happier,” Joan said. “Like this camping trip you’re going on.”
