by Ed Teja
“Okay, no more waffling. Come hell or high water, we are in. Tomorrow, we go see Hank and pretend we didn't notice the fireworks.”
“You want him to believe we slept through them?”
“I just want to make him bring up the subject, see if he gives something away.”
“He's an admiral,” Bill said. “Everything he's got, including his ass, is government property and he can't give it away.”
Bill chuckled. “Since this screws up sleeping in, I suggest we meet for breakfast and talk this over before we go to his office.” I saw Amy nod her approval.
“About 0700?” he asked. “Or even earlier? I don't think we'll be getting much sleep.”
I knew I wouldn't. “I doubt anything would be open earlier.”
“I can fix us something,” Amy said. “I'll need coffee, anyway. How about in two hours?”
“Great,” he said. “I'm guessing not at the hotel.”
“I'll send you an address,” I said.
“You know, it's a good thing my best suit was at the cleaner's,” he said. “I don't think anything we left in the hotel will be usable.”
“You don't have a best suit.”
“You can't resist resorting to reality, can you?” he said.
When he hung up, I turned to Amy, watched her stretch out on the bed. She looked at me, her naked body sprawling across sheets that we had wrinkled up earlier. “Come back to bed,” she said.
“I'm not sure I can sleep now, and we've only got two hours.”
“Martin, those are two excellent reasons you should come back to bed,” she said.
I do like smart women. Even the ones that make me feel stupid at times.
19
When the three of us rolled into Hank's office the next morning, the outer office was empty. Hank sat behind his desk, looking stressed. At our entrance, he looked up at us and the worried look turned to one of surprise. “You are alive!”
“Good of you to notice,” I said. I couldn't tell if the news pleased him or not.
“I've been worried. The explosion woke me, but there’s been so little information. Why didn't you call me and let me know you were all right?” he asked.
I grinned. “Why didn't you call and ask how we were? The phones work both ways.”
The question rattled him. “I didn't have your number.”
“And we don't have yours. Just because we carry around those damnable cell phones doesn't mean we are interconnected with no effort. You still need that silly little number.”
“It's a need-to-know thing,” Amy said.
“I hear they are working on that,” Bill said.
“How did you escape?”
Bill laughed. “Being lazy, we did it the easy way, by not being there in the first place.”
“What about Ken?” I asked. “Did he—”
Hank shook his head. “He and the night watchman were playing rummy when the explosion happened. The watchman was messed up but managed to drag himself clear. He had some serious burns. Said the roof collapsed on them. They dug Ken's body out this morning.”
I sat in a chair, watching Hank, trying to read him. He was working to put things together. “What do you mean you weren't there?” he asked.
“As things turned out, Hank, after spending the entire day at the hotel going over the information you sent us, we were feeling a little cooped up. Some of us got a little stir-crazy.”
“All of us,” Amy said.
“So we went out for a nice dinner. Somehow, with this and that, somehow, we never made it back to the hotel. Sorry that we went off schedule.”
“I've got my people working with the police.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because from where I sit, this had to be deliberate. The local fire marshal said it was a propane explosion, and I'm sure he's right, but the question is: What made it explode? That made me wonder why it happened right then? I don't believe in coincidence—but I can't imagine how anyone could know we were working on anything.”
He was putting forward all the right questions.
“None of us has talked to anyone about why we are here—except your people,” Bill said, putting a little meaningful spin into the words.
“He means that inside information is the most likely cause of the explosion,” I said, in case Hank didn't figure out the rut our brains were in. “Gee, if we could only think of someone who disliked Bill and I, but gee, Hank, seems the only people we know on this island besides you are Chief Larry and his faithful sullen sidekick.”
Hank frowned. “This has to be Vermeer's work.”
“Of course it does,” I said.
“I can't imagine how he could know about the mission.”
Amy laughed. “I can think of a few.”
“Such as?”
She pointed out the window. “You said he was well connected. A guy in that situation has to have eyes and ears. Your sudden trip to St. Anne had to arouse suspicion, especially given you flew in an assault team. That would be hard to miss. Even without the mercenary stuff, if he got wind of an op, he simply sticks a spotter out on a yacht, like that one.” We all saw a little white plastic yacht floating out there. “She spends the day drinking beer and watching this office with binoculars. Martin and Bill show up and then your guy Roberts escorts them to a hotel that he will know you use as a cover. The next day, we all meet. The following day, your man brings over a pile of documents and we spend the entire day inside. It's a gorgeous fucking day, I should add, and we are going over paperwork in a room. Without knowing any specifics, it wouldn't be hard for whoever is on point, seeing as Vermeer is in London, to decide that a simple boom in the night, and the game is over.”
“At least put on the back burner,” Bill said. “So to speak.”
“Buzz kill,” Amy said.
Bill snorted and jerked his thumb at the empty outer office. “Personally, I think we have to take into account that Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumber knew where we were staying,” Bill said. “It didn't have to be a leak. Those asshats are still steaming about getting caught with their pants down on the last op.”
Hank shook his head. “Not mad enough to try to blow you up.”
“For all we know, they could work for Vermeer,” Bill said, leaning forward across the desk, daring Hank to contradict him. “I'm just saying that there are potential low-level leaks that knew what the fuck was going on.”
Amy's phone made a disgusting sound, and she looked at it. “Vermeer is on his way back home now,” she said. “He should arrive around noon.”
“Great,” I said. “I haven't checked my busy social calendar, but I think we could squeeze in arranging a welcoming committee to meet that flight.”
“What?” Hank looked confused.
“The simplest plan is always the best.”
“It offers the least chance of something going wrong,” Amy said.
“So, Amy, if you have your plane standing by at that time, Bill and I will welcome him in the arrival room. We grab him before he clears immigration and duck walk him out to your plane. We shove him on board, wave goodbye, and voilà, the job is done. We all get to go home heroes.”
Amy clapped her hands. “I like it. No island nonsense. No uncomfortable tactical gear.”
“But that's the best part,” I said. “It looks so cool.”
Hank's scowl deepened. “That's a nonstarter. The Bahamian government would see that as a violation of their sovereignty,” Hank said.
“That's damn picky of them,” Bill said.
“If we did it well, they would know it happened, but not who did it.” I said. “We can all get on the plane and all they know is somebody grabbed him. It isn't like he can hold a press conference when we arrive.”
“He's worried about turf,” Amy said.
“Treacherous footing?”
She grinned. “See, if we scoop him up, my people will take him to their own priv
ate—visitor accommodation center. Hank's afraid he'd get cut out of the chance to extract information directly.”
“Wouldn't be the first time,” he muttered. “All I'd ever see is a redacted version of the interviews.”
“Welcome to the world taxpayers deal with every day,” Bill said.
“What's the airport perimeter like?” I asked.
“A chain-link fence. Some cameras. Nothing state-of-the-art.”
I shrugged. “So, Hank, if you could ensure a car was waiting nearby with the engine running, I’d be willing to bet Amy and I could waltz him out to it We could have him here before the locals know he was taken. You interview him, then send him out to sea and have a US Navy turn him over to Amy's people.”
“Works for me,” Amy said. “As long as we get him in one piece.”
“That would create an international incident and I'd catch shit for letting it happen,” Hank said. “Someone would see what we did and where you took him. Then it all comes down on us as the aforementioned violation of sovereignty.”
Bill laughed. “Just because it is and all. But when has the US government worried about such technicalities? After all, we are talking about the kind of irresponsible people who send assault teams to board civilian freighters inside of a foreign harbor without a qualm.”
Hank shook off the dig. “As I said, there are some important treaties that could be blown away if we get caught. I'd be in worse shit than if I just send in my own assault team and grab him off the island. I can probably come up with some justification for that if I have to.”
“Unfortunately, the man speaks the truth,” Amy said. “We do need this government to continue its lukewarm cooperation for our ongoing joint operations. Stomping that hard on their toes wouldn't encourage them to give it. They might toss us out of the country never to darken their doorstep again.”
“So we let him go home?”
She grinned. “Yea. We let him get to his island. If he is behind this bombing incident, he'll be overconfident. To reward that, we execute the strike tonight.”
“I can't put together the materials that fast,” Hank said. “I'll need to get a boat that won't be traced back to us, the gear you'll need—”
Amy put a hand up. “Done and dusted,” she said. “When we leave here, Spanky and the gang will go check on the care package I had my people put together as soon as you promised we would run the mission.” She grinned. “Night vision gear, state-of-the-art tranq guns—”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“What's your plan?” Hank asked.
Amy slumped in her chair. “Nothing too exciting or pretty.”
“Down and dirty,” I said.
“I need to know the details,” he said. “How do we coordinate the handover of the target? And my superiors—”
“You brought us in to do this so the stink of the mission wouldn't touch you. You are better off not knowing shit,” Bill said.
“Be nice, Bill. The official term is to preserve plausible deniability.”
Amy put her hands on the table. “Here is what you need to know—just after dusk this very evening, Bill will land us on a spot we've chosen, and Marty and I will stroll over the villa. When we get there, we will tranquilize Vermeer and make our way back to the spot, calling Bill for a pickup.”
“Amy, you promised a hail of fire.”
“I'll see what we can arrange when we get there.”
Hank looked upset. “How will you deal with—”
I put up a hand. “How we do what we do is irrelevant to you.”
“Besides, any plan we make now will likely change when we are on the ground.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because we find out your intel sucks, or just because we want to.”
Amy laughed. “That's what running the op means.”
“Okay.” Hank tapped the desk nervously. “So you intend to just waltz in and grab him? No diversions or distractions.”
Amy put her fingers to her lips. “I'm thinking more tango than waltz. We go in on tiptoe. Your photos suggest that, despite the upgraded security, we can get to the villa without any special effort. There aren't any checkpoints or security fencing. Most of that is reserved for around the ops center and the airfield.”
“It looks a lot like they don't expect anyone to be interested in the villa,” I said.
“I noticed that,” Hank said. “Could be they want it to seem that there is nothing important there.”
“Could be,” I said. “Anyway, since Amy has tranq guns, we don't even have to hit him hard. Then we bag him and bring him back.”
“My people can help,” he said, nodding toward the reception area. I saw that Chief Chandler had come in and was sitting at his desk.
“What kind of help? What about skulking around a tropical island grabbing bad guys needs help?”
“It's what we do,” Amy said.
“Besides, you said, you and your men can't be involved in this. That's why we are here.”
“But they can provide cover for the extraction phase.”
“Explain,” Amy said.
“Why risk going out hot? I can suggest to the local authorities that there might be suspicious activity on the island and that it might merit a surprise inspection.”
“So they have a surprise inspection of what?”
“Their work visas, permits, all their documentation. We will suggest they might be employing foreign workers without permission. That's a political hot button in this country—very sensitive.”
“Okay, but won't that pull Vermeer out of his villa right when we want him there?”
“Just the opposite. Technically, he is a legal resident of the country. He is registered as an investor. Although his company runs the place, he can't be seen as an employer or employee. Hey, that would break the law and he’s a law-abiding businessman. He won't want to even be in the office while that's going on. But the authorities will want eyeballs on all the employees and that will keep his people busy while you do your thing. Chandler will go along and see that they interview the new hires, make sure they are who they are supposed to be. Naturally, they'll have done all the paperwork perfectly and the inspection will turn up nothing at all.”
“Why does he go along?”
“So he can text you when the inspection starts. Then you can breech the villa without interference. You grab this asshole and head for the boat. When Bill picks you up, you text Roberts. He'll be in command of the vessel that will take Vermeer to our interrogation site. He'll send coordinates for a rendezvous.”
I didn't like it. “An inspection would have to be in daylight.”
Hank nodded. “You coming off the island and making a rendezvous at night would be suspicious. If nothing else, people might report smugglers. We don't want you attracting attention. Besides, a rendezvous in the dark can be tricky.”
Although that sounded plausible, his change gave me an uneasy feeling. “It screws with our timing.”
“With us ensuring the distraction, you'll be able to move slowly and carefully.”
“It's not the worst idea in the world,” Amy said.
“So we take an evening stroll to the villa and get in position. When the chief calls, we enter the villa and grab him, then make for the beach. Is that right?”
Hank nodded. “Get on the boat and let Roberts know you are clear. He'll have picked a location away from prying eyes, even a fisherman who might find it odd when you transfer a body.”
“Still, I'd rather we were getting out while it is still dark, the way we planned,” I said.
Amy touched my arm. “I know,” she said. I turned to face her, and her eyes asked me to trust her. “It's not what we talked about, but Hank has a point.”
Amy had something up her sleeve. I had to either go along with her, or I might as well back out of the mission altogether.
“Okay,” I said. “We can do it that way. But I don't wa
nt Chandler on the mission. You go with the authorities yourself. You text us. He still has steam coming out of his ears when we pass by in low orbit.”
Hank nodded, and Bill laughed. “So the minor changes are that Hank runs defense and Roberts is our contact man?”
“Seems so,” I said.
“Gee,” Bill said. “I wonder what could go wrong?”
“You don't like the plan?” Hank asked.
“He doesn't like plans,” I said. “And I know dragging officials into this seems all crazy.”
“A bit like calling the cops to arrest someone as a distraction while you rob a bank,” Bill said.
Amy grinned. “Have you boys ever gone on a mission where you liked all the conditions? I sure haven't.”
“Martin would bitch if he knew the bad guys would have this Dutch dude tied up and waiting for him.” Bill shrugged. “He'd suspect something fishy was going on.”
Amy gave him her insane smile. “And you wouldn't?”
“I sure as hell would,” Bill said.
“Fine,” I said. “I'd rather do a nighttime operation, but I'm outvoted.” I looked at Hank. “How much time can we expect to have once you send the text?”
“It’s a universal law is that government officials love this kind of thing,” Hank said. “There is nothing more fun than throwing their weight around. They'll expect to be served coffee, maybe asked to stay for lunch. I figure that, worst case, you'll have most of the morning.”
“That's too much time,” I said. “Time for things to go wrong.”
Hank nodded. “I agree. But you don't have to take all of it.”
“There's a point,” Amy said.
“All right,” I said. “Here is the way it goes, Hank. We will be there sometime this evening. We will scout around and find a nice place to watch the villa from. In the morning, you will go in and text us once everyone is busy. Then we grab Vermeer and head for the pickup. Roberts checks the local area and picks a rendezvous spot. Is that right?”
“Perfect.”
“Are we done then?” Bill asked. “I could use another breakfast. Having someone blow up your hotel gives a kid an appetite.”
