by Wolf Wootan
Hatch looked from Syd to Sara and raised his eyebrows slightly. Sara nodded imperceptibly, indicating that she thought Syd could, and should, be trusted. Hatch finally admitted to himself that he needed Syd to carry out his ultimate plan. He had to relate secrets to her that no one outside of Lincoln Research and Development knew. Things that not even employees of his other vast holdings knew. Was his strange attraction to her clouding his judgment? How much should he let her know about his secret world? She had lived in the clandestine depths of spydom where there was only one outcome possible for betrayal. He had to trust her.
“Syd, I apologize. I thought I could handle this situation without getting you more deeply involved than you already are, but I’ve just realized how self-serving that is. This is really about you, not me and my personal agenda,” said Hatch seriously.
“And what is your personal agenda, Hatch?” asked Syd, looking him straight in the eye.
“Like I told you, Syd, Hatch is a devout antiterrorist,” said Sara before Hatch could answer.
“Sara is right. Getting these terrorists off the street is very important to me, and not just because they are a threat to you and Karen. What they stand for is an even larger threat. I want to hit them hard—send a message to their buddies in the Middle East. Does that sound familiar to you?” Hatch explained.
“Yes. I’ve heard that speech before, many times from my own mouth,” admitted Syd.
“Probably from Uri Stein, too,” said Hatch, watching for Syd’s reaction.
That last statement stunned Syd. How did Hatch know that name, her previous boss in Israel?
“You know who Uri is?” she gasped.
“I not only know who he is, I know him personally,” answered Hatch. “You don’t even know this, Sara, but I talked to him earlier today while you two were visiting Mrs. C. I’ve transmitted the digital pictures of the two guys we killed, Syd, and he will try and help us identify them and their buddies. He will call us later today when he gets to his office. It’s the middle of the night over there right now.”
“Then Uri knows that the Wrath of Allah assholes have found me?” asked Syd.
“Yes, and he feels responsible for the fix you are in. He sends his apologies. By the way, Triple Eye is a major force in the world in the intelligence community, so it is not unusual that I know the heads of most intelligence organizations. This, however, has nothing to do with Triple Eye. They are not directly involved. Tell her what your job really is, Sara,” concluded Hatch.
“I’m very interested in what you have to say, Sara, but I have one question for Hatch first. You knew about me before my little confession today, didn’t you?” interrupted Syd.
“Yes. I wasn’t going to say anything if you chose not to mention that part of your past,” answered Hatch. “My call to Uri wasn’t about you—just the terrorists.”
“Thanks for that. Sorry, Sara. Go ahead.”
“It is important that you never reveal what I am going to tell you, Z.,” started Sara.
“I’ve heard that a few times,” smiled Syd. “My lips are sealed. I already have many secrets buried deep within me.”
“I told you that Hatch made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. That job was to create the ultimate Hostage Rescue Team. I developed a plan and Hatch provided the tools and equipment I needed. Since that first team, the technology provided by Lincoln R and D has enabled me to upgrade the team—teams, actually—to the best trained and equipped in the world. We have training facilities here on the property—a place I didn’t show you today—but our main training facility is in Arizona where we have hundreds of acres. We call these teams Lincoln’s Liberators, although Hatch doesn’t really approve of the name,” Sara laughed.
Sara stopped and took a sip of her drink. Syd was trying to absorb what she was hearing.
“The Toy Master—Dr. Robert ‘Doc’ Mills, head of LRD—has given us equipment that no other HRT has ever had. We have the best communications system, best surveillance equipment, best weapons, unbelievable transportation options, and hopefully, the best training. Hatch has spared no expense in these areas. Some inventions are patented and sold for profit after they are replaced with something better. For example, some of the computer stuff sold by Lincoln Computers. Others are kept secret so that other people don’t get a peek at where we are technologically,” Sara continued with her story.
Syd could restrain herself no more. She had to ask, “What do you do with secret Hostage Rescue Teams?”
Hatch spoke up.
“I originally started this as an experiment, to see how good of a team I could assemble. Sara had piqued my interest years ago. As the idea developed, the teams were trained to do more than just the rescue function. They are now potent strike teams as well. All of this, of course, is because of Sara’s vision and dedication to excellence. The way the international political climate has developed since the mid-nineties has confirmed my belief in the usefulness of secret, apolitical strike teams such as these.”
“Apolitical? Explain that one to me, please,” said Syd.
“There have been many examples recently, but just for illustrative purposes, let’s take a problem which happened about six months ago. Remember when an extremist Muslim group shot down an SST airliner leaving New York? They used a hand-held SAM, and then escaped to a stronghold in Syria. The Syrian government wouldn’t give them up, even though they admitted they did it, and said they would do it again. Their location was known, but politics tied the hands of all of the great, extremely well-armed nations who wanted them: France, Israel—there was an Israeli delegation on board—the U. S., the United Nations. Everyone was afraid of going into Syria because of the fear of screwing up ongoing so-called peace talks in the Middle East. So the terrorists were thumbing their noses at the world.”
“I heard about that in Israel. Metsada people were really pissed that their hands were tied. But then, a rocket attack from some mysterious ground troops destroyed the terrorist base and killed most of them. No one ever knew who did it,” replied Syd.
“Exactly,” smiled Hatch. “No international repercussions. No more terrorists.”
“That was one of your teams, wasn’t it?” gasped Syd. “You must be really good, Sara! How did you ever get a team in and out? I had enough trouble getting myself in and out of Syria.”
“Like I said, we have unusual equipment at our disposal. I’ll show some of it to you later,” answered Sara, “if Hatch approves.”
“I see your point about politics now. When countries can’t do the right thing because of international political considerations, Lincoln’s Liberators—who don’t exist, of course—can step in and make things right without starting a war,” Syd said. “We in MOSSAD sure cheered the demise of those assholes, even though we were never able to find out who did it, or how.”
“We would like to keep it that way. What was done did not have any nation’s sanction, but if it were known that Americans were involved, the U.S. would be blamed even though the U.S. Government doesn’t know anything either,” said Hatch. “That’s why mission success and secrecy is paramount. Officially, we know nothing about the incident in Syria—or any others you might think of if you tried.”
Several unexplained, unsolved incidents flashed through Syd’s mind. She began to understand Hatch’s reasoning about secret, apolitical action. If the incidents she was thinking of were carried out by Lincoln’s Liberators, they were very, very professional. She looked at Hatch and Sara in awe. Such power they wielded! Now she understood why they didn’t want the FBI involved in The Blue Grotto incident. They were really equipped to handle it themselves! Those poor Iranian fools were over-matched against these people.
“I haven’t heard a word—officially,” promised Syd.
“Now that you know some of our capabilities, maybe you should call your sister and set things in motion. Sara, would you please call Bruno and tell him our plan? I want 24-hour surveillance on Karen, her house, and the San Francisco A
irport,” said Hatch.
Sara plucked her Blue Phone from her beach bag and walked a few feet away to talk to Bruno. Hatch handed his Blue Phone to Syd.
“Just push the Dial button and you will get a dial tone. Then you can dial Karen.”
Sara returned to the table while Syd was having an animated chat with her sister. She and Hatch munched on finger food and drank in silence as Syd talked. Hatch noticed again how radiant her smile was, and how gorgeous she looked.
Syd handed the phone back to Hatch.
“Well, she sounds great. She obviously doesn’t suspect anything,” said Syd.
“Good,” said Hatch. “Now we wait. If you don’t mind, Sara, you could get one of the vans and take Syd to her place so she can pick up some of her things. You will accept our hospitality for a while, won’t you, Syd?”
“If you don’t mind. I think I should stay low until this is over,” responded Syd. “Also, I would like to see some of your high-tech ‘equipment,’ if I’m allowed.”
“Sara and I can show you the ‘North Forty’ tomorrow. Sara, look the area over while you are at Syd’s place. I want you familiar with the layout in case they show up here. It will be your call on the take-down. Set it up with Bruno’s team.”
“Gotcha. Let’s go change and head over to your condo, Syd,” said Sara, rising. “Maybe you will get a chance to actually use the pool tomorrow.”
“See you both at dinner,” said Hatch. “I think I’ll take a swim.”
Chapter 13
Klaus Haus, Florida
Wednesday, August 1, 2001
6:00 P.M.
When Sara and Syd returned with a load of personal things, clothes, and shoes from Syd’s condo, Maria the maid helped them carry everything up to Syd’s suite and stow them in the proper places. It was 6:00 P.M. by then.
“Dinner is at 7:00 P.M. You have time to shower or soak in the tub if you want,” Sara informed Syd.
“What should I wear? It’s not formal, I hope,” said Syd.
“No. Not unless we have a dignitary of some sort. Mrs. C. frowns on shorts, however. You will gain points with her if you wear one of the dresses she bought you,” answered Sara. “Let’s see what she got for you.”
“Do I want to gain points?”
“It’s a good idea. She runs the house, decides on the menus for meals, so if she likes you, you can get special treatment if you need it. Better a friend than an enemy.”
They went to the closet and found two dresses that Mrs. Chamberlain had purchased. One was a peach color, the other was black. They were not exactly cocktail dresses, but close. Syd also had brought some of her good dresses from her condo.
“I suppose I can try them on and see how they look on me. Otherwise, I have some that should do quite well. Thank God we went and got my shoes. Although, those black heels she got me look great! OK, I think I’ll go get cleaned up. Swing by and pick me up on your way down. I’m not sure I could find the dining room in this mansion,” Syd said.
“Right. See you in about fifty minutes.”
• • •
When Sara and Syd reached the open double doors which led to a large dining room, Syd hesitated and looked around the room. Sara went on in and joined Hatch and Bruno, who were talking to a man Syd had not met. He had salt and pepper hair with gray at the temples, and was about six feet tall. He took Sara’s hand and greeted her like a long lost friend. Mrs. Chamberlain was talking to a man in a chef’s hat and to Eddie, who, like the chef, was dressed all in white. Syd imagined a symphony conductor coordinating the string section with the brass. Mrs. Chamberlain was dressed and coifed to the nines, the hem of her long, dark-gray dress reaching the ankles of her polished black boots.
Wow! That woman is something else! I think the queen would be intimidated in her presence. I wonder if I’m dressed all right. I must be; she picked the dress and shoes I’m wearing!
Syd had chosen the black dress with spaghetti straps. It came just below mid-thigh and the top showed a hint of cleavage. She also wore the black heels that Mrs. Chamberlain had chosen to go with the dress. The men in the room wore linen suits, but none wore ties. She concluded that she was dressed adequately.
A long table was set for six people and looked as if Martha Stewart had dropped by. Syd took a big breath and entered the room. All conversation stopped as they all looked in her direction. She didn’t know whether to feel like a movie star working a room, or a leper. The silence was over in a fleeting second, and Hatch smiled at her and motioned her over to where his group was.
“You look stunning, Syd! I want you to meet Fred ‘Smitty’ Smith—no relation to Sara—who is our Chief Pilot at LRD. That’s Lincoln Research and Development, in case you forgot. Smitty, this lovely lady is Sydney Steppe. She’s a house guest for awhile,” said a beaming Hatch, hoping he could keep her around for a few days. Not only was he entranced by her, but his regular “female companion” was an airline stewardess who lived in Miami, and she was out of town for the next ten days. Hatch was in sore need of a replacement.
Smitty took Syd’s hand and put it to his lips as he did a small bow.
“I am absolutely charmed, Syd—if I may call you that,” drawled Smitty in his Texan accent. “Where have you been hiding this sweet thing, Hatch?”
“Calm down, Smitty! Remember, after dinner you have to go home to your wife,” laughed Hatch.
“I’m very pleased to meet you, Smitty,” replied Syd with an exaggerated curtsy while he still held her hand.
Bruno chimed in, “Hi, Syd. You sure look a lot better this evening.”
Syd was glowing inside. She was not used to this kind of flattery from strangers. They were all making her feel right at home. All she had to do now was pass muster with Mrs. Chamberlain. At that point, Mrs. Chamberlain rang a small dinner bell.
“All right everyone, Philippe has a delicious meal prepared for us tonight. Shall we eat it before it gets cold? We are honored to have guests this evening. Smitty, you must eat with us more often. Next time, bring Annabelle. She must be tired of cooking for you every night. And Syd, it is a delight to have you share our meal with us. Please, come sit next to me so we may get better acquainted.”
Mrs. Chamberlain was at one end of the table, Hatch at the other. She indicated the chair on her left for Syd and the one on her right for Smitty. Sara sat next to Smitty, Bruno next to Syd.
“What’s on the menu tonight?” asked Hatch.
“Philippe has prepared a prime rib in honor of Smitty. We know how he loves his beef,” chortled Mrs. Chamberlain. “You also have a choice of lemon chicken or sole meuniere; baked potato or rice; and a selection of fresh vegetables. And, of course, French fries for Smitty.”
They all laughed at that. Philippe had a large serving cart on wheels, and he went from person to person carving meat, serving chicken or fish, and other victuals as selected by each diner. Syd had the fish, a baked potato, and fresh steamed broccoli. A large, made-from-scratch Caesar salad was also available. Eddie went around pouring wine, of which there were several excellent selections. Syd opted for a very good Chardonnay. The food and wine were definitely five star. There was subdued conversation around the table as everyone began eating.
Hatch finally said, “Listen up people. Syd has been briefed on LRD and the HRTs, and although there are a lot of things I haven’t told her, you may discuss things in front of her. I don’t want to hear any more discussion of the weather!”
With that announcement, the conversation became livelier, although they all thought it was strange that a non-employee had such clearance. It had never happened before.
Mrs. Chamberlain turned to Syd and said, “I’m glad you wore that dress, dear. I was trying to picture it on you. You look simply divine! I hear you will be staying with us for awhile. Please tell me if there is anything I can do to make your stay as pleasant as possible.”
Sara was right! Wearing this dress gained me some brownie points with her.
“Why thank
you, Mrs. C. You look absolutely elegant yourself. Maybe you can give me a few pointers on fashion sometime. I’ve been in the Middle East for so long, I admit that I’m a little behind the times in what’s in and what’s not,” said Syd, smiling sweetly.
“I would be delighted to, dear!” answered Mrs. Chamberlain, beaming.
Smitty looked up from his slab of prime rib and mound of French fries and said, “Hatch was telling me about the little hoe-down you and he had this afternoon, Syd. Sounds like I want you on my side in a bar fight.”
“It was an exciting 15 seconds. I’m certainly glad Hatch showed up when he did. He’s the one you want around in a bar fight,” laughed Syd. “I thought you were a pilot. What are you doing fighting in bars?”
“I guess for the same reasons a college professor does,” drawled Smitty with a twinkle in his eye. “I hear you’re going to tour the North Forty tomorrow. I’ll be tickled pink to show you some of the stuff I fly.”
He put some more horseradish on his meat and carved off a piece. Syd was on her second glass of wine and was feeling mellow. Good food, good wine, and people she felt comfortable with. She had not felt this relaxed since she left Israel. She had forgotten for the moment that she had killed someone earlier today, and still was in great danger.
She chatted with Bruno for a while about surveillance equipment. He explained some of the cutting edge devices he had at his disposal. She was amazed, since it far surpassed anything she had been trained to use. She had never even heard of some of the devices.
While the dessert tray was being wheeled around the table, Hatch felt his pager vibrate. He excused himself and left the dining room. After about five minutes, he returned and took his seat.
“I just heard from our San Francisco team,” he said, causing all conversations around the table to cease. “They have spotted two people who could be our prey at the San Francisco Airport. They are scheduled to leave there on American Airlines at 6:00 P.M. San Francisco time—in about 45 minutes—and arrive in Miami at 2:15 A.M. local time. We can’t be sure these are the right guys unless they go to Syd’s place, so, Bruno, alert your team at the Miami Airport. San Francisco got their pictures and has posted them on the database. Get copies for your people.”
