The Storm Protocol

by Iain Cosgrove

  This had always made her laugh, seeing as she was a prostitute; high class maybe, but a call girl none the less. Maybe they felt less guilt that way. No, she preferred to think of herself as pale. It covered a multitude of sins.

  She had never been to Spain before; certainly never been to Marbella. Her images of Spain were tainted with visions of high-rise a la Benidorm and Torremolinos. She hadn't realised how classy Spain could be.

  She looked around the exterior of the apartment, a term which was actually a bit of a misnomer. It was an enormous penthouse, the outside balcony space being larger than her small townhouse back home.

  She thought about that word for a second; home.

  She felt a presence behind her; hands gently placed over her eyes, and a whispered question.

  ‘Guess who?’

  ‘Prince Charming,’ she answered, smiling.

  ‘Close enough,’ he replied, with a smile of his own.

  ‘By rights, you should be dead,’ she stated seriously.

  ‘By rights, I think you’re right,’ he answered with feeling, ‘although I have to say, I feel pretty good for a corpse.’

  ‘They don’t believe you’re dead,’ she said flatly.

  ‘They might have initially,’ he said. ‘There were a lot of people there when it blew; a lot of bodies and body parts and a lot of rubble to sift through. But they will have confirmed me as missing by now; unlike those poor unfortunate souls.’

  ‘Like Ben,’ she said sadly.

  ‘Like Ben,’ he acknowledged, and they both bowed their heads for a few seconds in a silent mutual prayer.

  ‘Why did he go back in?’ she asked.

  ‘Loyal to the end,’ said David. ‘He didn't want to leave without the documentation. We’d been planning all those months for it and I don't think he truly realised how dangerous the situation actually was. He was very much a man of numbers rather than a man of action.’

  ‘So where does that leave you?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Well, the drug squad have a thorough file on me. They know the properties I own and at this stage they are probably also aware that less than twenty four hours after the explosion, I flew out from Cork to Fuengirola. They would also be acutely aware of where all my assets and holdings are, so on the face of it, I think they know exactly where I am. Will they bother to try and extradite me? Do you know what, I don't think they will? I think knowing I’m no longer around will be good enough for them and to be honest with you Sam, that's good enough for me too.’

  ‘I had a horrible feeling of dread that night you left,’ she said. ‘I was convinced something bad was about to happen.’

  ‘Something bad did happen,’ he said sombrely. ‘I lost my business partner and my best friend.’

  ‘True,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I just can't shake the feeling; you know that one, the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.’

  ‘Sure it’s not just Spanish tummy?’ he asked.

  ‘Maybe that's it,’ she said, unconvinced.

  ‘I love you Sam,’ he said.

  She didn't answer, but she held him a little tighter and said it silently to herself.

  I think I love you too, David.

  Two seconds later, the force of the explosion lifted the balcony area clean off the front of the penthouse, the rolling ball of fire incinerating them both instantly.

  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

  #

  He looked out at the beautiful alpine landscape, rolling and twisting beyond the large picture window. Good; when you were paying the type of prices he was, the least you expected was a decent view.

  He felt slight apprehension, but only slight. Money could buy a lot of things and he had been assured that pain medication was top of that list. He'd chosen the Bergmann clinic near Gstaad in Switzerland, not only because it was the best at what it did, which it undoubtedly was, but because it was beloved by Hollywood royalty. The actors, singers and rock stars, like him, had one thing they valued above all else; discretion.

  As if to reinforce the point, there was a discreet knock at the door.

  ‘Come,’ he said.

  A nurse and two orderlies entered the room.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked the nurse, in flawless English.

  He nodded and she gave him his pre-meds, two pills, and the orderlies grabbed each end of the bed, and wheeled him down to the anteroom outside the operating theatre.

  The anaesthetist put a needle into his arm and asked him to count slowly to ten. He didn't reach seven before he was out cold.

  In the operating theatre, the surgeon and his assistant were studying two photographs.

  ‘So he wants to go from this to this?’ asked the assistant, pointing from one to the other. ‘Why?’

  ‘At this stage in my career, I don’t ever question their motives,’ said the surgeon honestly. ‘I just bank their money and do a fantastic job, so they’ll recommend me to their rich and flaky friends.’

  ‘I mean,’ the assistant pointed to the second picture. ‘It’s not like this guy is even good-looking or anything.’

  ‘I know; I thought that initially,’ said the surgeon, ‘but look closely; the shape of the head, the sculpture of the bones. Forget about the flesh; that can be easily manipulated, but look at the bone structure. If I didn't know better, and to be honest I don’t, I'd say these guys were related.’

  #

  ‘Thanks for coming to see me at such short notice,’ he said.

  I looked around the office and then back at him.

  ‘I didn't really have a choice, did I?’

  ‘I like to call it the management illusion of reality?’ he said, laughing.

  ‘What am I doing here, sir?’ I asked.

  ‘You see? That's what I like about you,’ he said. ‘You always get straight to the point; no fucking around. Okay, I’ll extend the same courtesy to you. Bottom line is; we would like you to come and work for us.’

  He corrected himself.

  ‘I’d like you to come and work for me.’

  ‘Well I’m flattered,’ I said, ‘but....’

  He held up his hand.

  ‘Don't give me an answer now,’ he said. ‘Think about it for a while, but while you do, think on this. You have all the skills we are looking for; aggressive, a good fighter, a marksman, decisive and a natural leader.’

  ‘How long do I have?’ I asked.

  ‘Don’t leave it too long,’ he warned. ‘I’m a patient man, but even my patience can be stretched.’

  I didn't even bother asking him if that was a warning. He was the director of the CIA; it was flattering in a way.

  ‘I'll be in touch,’ I said. ‘Very soon.’

  ‘Goodbye Mr O’Neill,’ he said, pumping my hand warmly. ‘Or should I just say au revoir.’

  #

  Kate was waiting for me in the foyer. She smiled at me the same way she had that first time, and I felt the very same impact. I offered her my arm, as I had with Kathleen, and she linked it as we walked out into the warm sunshine.

  ‘Okay, I’ve got one question?’ she asked.

  ‘Shoot,’ I responded.

  ‘Getting the guys to pass that note to me in the cells; how did you know that it would keep me safe; that I would think that way?’

  ‘Easy,’ I said. ‘These people; people like Black Swan, look at things in black and white. If you’re not with them, you’re against them. The fact that you were prepared to pass information to him about my whereabouts, or where you suspected I’d be, automatically made you his ally and therefore protected. I also knew because of your background, that you would try and protect yourself; second nature.’

  ‘I suppose there is some logic in there somewhere,’ she said.

  ‘Trust me,’ I said. ‘I thought about it for a long time.’

  ‘I have so far,’ she replied.

  ‘What?’ I asked, momentarily lost.

  ‘Trusted you.’

  ‘True,’ I acknowledged.

  �
��So where are we going?’ she asked.

  ‘New York, Midtown to be precise,’ I said.

  Her eyebrows rose.

  ‘Really?’ she said. ‘Is that near Manhattan?’

  ‘Right smack in the middle of it,’ I replied.

  ‘I’ll miss Cork,’ she said with a sigh.

  ‘Strangely enough, I will too,’ I said.

  She looked down at her hand where it grasped my arm, and I felt the fingers tighten slightly.

  ‘What’ll we do for money?’ she asked, suddenly serious.

  ‘Oh don't you worry about money,’ I said, placing my own hand over hers momentarily in a protective gesture. ‘Besides, I have a job offer that I'm not going to be allowed to refuse.’