by Wolf Wootan
Downstairs, she found the kitchen without difficulty. A pot of coffee had been brewed already by somebody, so she poured some into a mug she found in a cabinet. It was good coffee. She looked around to see if Juan Valdez was lurking somewhere with his donkey. She sat down at the kitchen table and reviewed the events of the day before. Then it hit her.
They should have moved against those Iranians by now! And I was sleeping like a baby! I wonder how it went. I’ll die if anyone got hurt! I need to know what’s happening! Where is everybody? Probably still sleeping! Shit!
She got up and poured herself another mug of coffee and began pacing, looking at her watch every few seconds. Then Mrs. Chamberlain stepped out of Vogue Magazine again and entered the kitchen with a smile on her face.
“There you are, Sydney. Hatch left me a message for you. He said to tell you that everything went well last night, and that he and Sara are going to sleep late. So Sara will not meet you here at nine. Why don’t you come over to the dining room? Philippe is serving breakfast,” she told Syd.
A flood of relief surged over Syd’s body. Everything had gone well!
Where are the culprits? Why doesn’t someone come and tell me what happened?
Syd followed Mrs. Chamberlain to the dining room and killed forty-five minutes eating breakfast and chatting with Mrs. Chamberlain. She had wonderful cheese blintzes with fresh fruit. Then, Mrs. Chamberlain went off to her office, leaving Syd alone with her taut nerves. She finally arose and wandered into the library, where she started reading the titles on the book spines, searching for something to read to help pass the time until someone showed up.
• • •
At 10:05 A.M., Hatch and Sara whisked into the library, chatting and laughing.
“Ah, there you are, Syd!” smiled Hatch.
“Sorry I didn’t make it by nine, but I was up most of the night,” explained Sara.
“God! You guys are OK? I was climbing the walls! What happened last night?” asked Syd in one breath.
“Everything went smoothly,” answered Hatch. “How would you like to meet our unwilling guests? I can’t wait to see their reaction when they see you!”
While the three of them climbed into a golf cart and headed toward the “North Forty,” Hatch gave Syd a quick synopsis of what went down the night before. Syd was impressed at their professionalism—and the new gas they had used. She made a mental note to try and get more details about it later. She was especially impressed by what Sara had done—used herself as bait.
At the moment, she was thinking about the two people Hatch had locked up somewhere on his vast grounds.
It will be interesting to see those assholes squirm when they see that their target has trapped them, instead of the other way around. I am really pissed that those bastards couldn’t leave me alone. I was just beginning to unwind. I didn’t want anymore of that life! I’m ready for the boring, slow pace of teaching again. Can I ever put that other life behind me?
Hatch was driving the cart along a two-lane paved road that had large trees and deep green foliage on both sides. At some places, the trees covered the road and blotted out the sun. About every thirty yards or so, the road took a sharp turn, first one way, then the other.
“Why so many switchbacks on this road?” asked Syd. “Is it swampy in there?”
“Not really. These switchbacks are better than speed bumps. No way anyone can speed along here,” answered Hatch. “It obviates any high-speed chases.”
“Why do you expect high-speed chases?” Syd asked, confused.
“I don’t. Not the way we designed this. Just looking ahead. An ounce of prevention.”
Christ! I thought I was beginning to understand these people, but there is always something new to confound me. This is like a rain forest in South America. Who would want to speed along in here?
“How much further?” she asked. “How big is this place?”
“Not far. I actually have a tract of about 190 acres, but only parts of it are developed. I wanted to have a lot of greenery for privacy purposes. It’s laid out much like Disneyland. A lot of switchbacks; things are closer together than it seems. The trees and foliage are thick enough to hide one area from another,” Hatch explained as he took a hard right.
“So, is Fantasyland around the next bend?” laughed Syd.
“No, actually, the next stop is more like Adventureland. Fantasyland is further down the road,” Hatch replied with a smile. He was thinking of the hangar that housed the Shadow-5 helicopter.
They arrived finally at a large clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a helipad with a helicopter parked on it. The chopper was painted white and sported the blue Triple Eye logo, which was a globe of the world with 3 eyes orbiting around it. On the edge of the clearing to the right was a long, two-story concrete block building. It was painted forest green and blended into the background of the forest of trees and vines. At one end of the building was a parking lot with 20 to 25 cars parked on it.
A dark green Jeep Cherokee was parked at one of two gas pumps at the far end of the clearing. A man dressed in camos was pumping gas into its tank. Syd spotted two other men attired in camos, one near the chopper, and the other near a door in the long building. They all wore sidearms. The ones near the door and the chopper had weapons slung from their shoulders. Syd thought they were similar to Heckler and Koch MP-5s. These two also wore headsets with boom mikes. Their eyes were covered by dark aviator sunglasses.
Syd recognized the helicopter as a Bell 430. She was partly correct. It was heavily modified to include Triple Eye satellite communication and GPS systems, and advanced infrared and electronic surveillance equipment. Its seating accommodated two pilots and six passengers. Syd wondered if this was one of Smitty’s toys.
To their left, Syd saw a small dock with a speed boat tied to it, so there was obviously access via water to this compound.
Another ounce of prevention? thought Syd.
“Amazing! This is like a drug lord’s compound in the forests of Columbia!” exclaimed Syd. “Why the armed men?”
“This building houses, in part, a Triple Eye Data Collection Center. The computer and communications equipment here, and the data are all classified at the highest levels. As a condition of our contracts with the CIA, DIA, DOD, et cetera, we are required to have the site secured to the maximum. There are more armed men around here than you can see. Much more secure than a drug lord’s compound,” Hatch explained, chortling.
“How many people work here?” asked Syd, pointing at the parking lot.
“About forty or so. Many are locals, but some are from our headquarters in Langley, Virginia. They all have housing off-base, although there are a small number of sleeping quarters available for emergency use.”
The cart stopped in front of the door where the armed guard was stationed. He did not snap to attention, but he straightened his stance and touched his right hand to the visor of his baseball cap, as if he were used to saluting in a former life.
“Good morning, sir,” he said to Hatch. “Ma’am,” was added as Sara dismounted.
“Good morning, Charlie,” Hatch replied. “How goes it with our visitors?”
“We fed them, then moved them to the Discussion Room,” Charlie answered. His eyes were on Syd as she climbed out of the golf cart.
“Charlie, this is Sydney Steppe. She’s cleared for entry here. Syd, this is Charlie Cobb, today’s Captain of the Guard, so-to-speak,” said Hatch.
“Ma’am,” said Charlie, touching his visor again. Syd did not know if the once over he was giving her was because he was checking out her body, or because the story of Dr. Z. had been passed around the compound. It was a little of both, since Smitty had told several people about the knife-wielding Dr. Zorrina. The story had been too good to keep to himself.
“Pleased to meet you, Charlie,” replied Syd.
Charlie stepped away from the door and Hatch, Sara, and Syd entered the building. The cool air inside was refreshing, sin
ce it was already hot and humid outside. They entered a large foyer which had a desk occupied by a gray-haired woman dressed in a bright pink pant suit. Hatch and Sara greeted her by name as they signed a log on the desk. Syd was asked to sign-in also.
Then the three of them walked down a hall to the right of the front door. At the end of the hall was a windowless metal door. Hatch placed his left hand on a flat pad on the wall and pushed a button next to it. The door clicked and he pushed it open and they entered a large room. There was a couch along the outside wall with a low table in front of it. An upholstered chair sat at an angle at each end of the couch. The walls were painted an off-white, and there were no pictures hung on the outside wall. There was a windowless, steel door on the opposite wall. Next to the door was a large oil painting of pink flamingos and garish tropical flowers. Syd thought it was quite ghastly.
“Let’s take a look, Syd,” said Hatch as he pushed a button next to the painting.
The painting slid to the side, revealing a window that looked into the room behind the steel door. The two prisoners sat on chairs on either side of a table on a pedestal. The pedestal was bolted to the floor and the prisoners were handcuffed to metal rings welded to the metal table. Syd jumped back when she saw them.
“They can’t see you, yet. This is a one-way window,” explained Sara.
The two men were dressed in dark pants and white dress shirts, no ties. Syd thought one of them looked familiar, as if she had seen his picture before, but she wasn’t really sure. Rage started to build up in her. Those two and their buddies were screwing up her life! She had wanted to leave that phase of her life behind her and move on.
“That one on the left looks familiar to me. I wonder why?” asked Syd with a wrinkled brow.
“It could be you saw his picture back in Israel. I talked to Uri this morning. He got the pictures I sent him and they identified all four of our hit men. The one you think looks familiar is Mohammed bin Ali bin Saleh al-Thani. He’s the brother of the leader of the Wrath of Allah,” said Hatch. “I guess that shows how important your death is to them.”
“Why do Arabs have such long names? What’s wrong with plain old John Smith?” asked Sara.
“It’s really quite simple, Sara,” said Syd. “It actually makes more sense than most naming systems. An Arab’s name is like his family tree. In Arabic, bin means son of, and bint means daughter of. So you just string first names together. That asshole in there is the son of Ali al-Thani, who in turn is the son of Saleh al-Thani. His brother—the haughty leader of the Wrath—is named Hamad bin Ali bin Saleh al-Thani. I looked for him for three years, but he was too slippery, and too well guarded.”
Hatch turned a knob on the wall and voices could be heard from a small speaker in the wall above the knob.
“Let’s see what they’re saying. Can you understand them, Syd?” asked Hatch.
“Turn it up a little. There, that’s better. They’re speaking a dialect of Farsi from Western Iran. They are trying to figure out who has captured them. They’re worried about the failure of their mission, and what will happen to them if they ever get back to Iran. They are wondering where the Jew Whore is. That’s me.”
“I didn’t know you were Jewish, Syd,” said Sara.
“I’m not. They assumed I was because of my association with MOSSAD. I’m not a whore either,” laughed Syd.
“Well, I guess it’s time to let them see the Jew Whore. Let’s scare the crap out of them Dr. Z.,” Sara said.
Hatch opened the door and went in, followed by Sara. The two Iranians started yelling in broken English, trying to appear indignant. Then Syd stepped into the room. When they saw her, they went silent. The one on the right wet his pants.
“Well,” said Syd in colorful Farsi, “look what pieces of camel dung Hamad bin dog-fornicator sent to kill me. You did not think you could really be successful, did you? The other two you sent are dead, in case you are wondering. I am a shadow, I am the darkness. I float in the sky unseen, then materialize before your eyes, and cut you up, and mark you with my Z. Allah will not want your stinking carcass when I am through with you. Do you think mere pieces of dung can kill me? This is the first time any of you have ever laid your eyes upon me—and only because I allow it.”
She continued for a while in flowery Arabic metaphors while they trembled in fear. She discussed various actions that she was considering, including cutting off their right hands and left feet, the punishment of lowly thieves and sodomites. This would shame them in the eyes of Allah, and all Arabs. They could not believe that a mere, lowly woman had this power over them. They were beginning to believe that she was an evil wraith, as she suggested.
Finally, she said, “I must go and get my knife. It is time to cut my mark on you.”
She turned and left the room, followed by Sara and Hatch. They closed the door, and Syd giggled.
“What was that all about?” asked Hatch.
“I had a little fun with them. They’re scared shitless. I told them I was going to get my knife and cut a ‘Z’ on them. What do we do next?”
“Let them sweat, for now. We have things to do and arrangements to make. I think turning them over to Uri is the best plan, and he agrees. There is nothing we can do to them legally in this country. The GS-V is being fueled and prepared in Miami,” said Hatch. “But first, we have to deal with Lt. Jackson, Syd. We can’t leave the country with that hanging over our heads”
“We? Leave the country? Why do I need to go anywhere? I’d like to get back to a normal life! These guys are neutralized now, aren’t they?” exclaimed Syd.
“Yes, they are. What do you think Hamad bin whatsis will do when he finds out about his brother?” stated Hatch. “He won’t stop now until he finds you.”
Syd was silent. She went to the one-way mirror and looked at the two men who symbolized the fix she found herself in. Would she have to spend the rest of her life in hiding, looking over her shoulder? She turned and faced Hatch and Sara.
“I’m sorry, guys! I had hoped to put this part of my life behind me. I can see now that I can’t—at least, not yet. Do you have something in mind to get me out of this nightmare, Hatch?” she asked, very discouraged.
“Yes, I do. What I intend to do, I can do without you. However, your knowledge of the Middle East and your language skills could be of enormous value to me,” replied Hatch.
“I don’t see how you can stop this without neutralizing Hamad and most of his followers,” observed Syd.
“Exactly. That’s what I intend to do,” he stated grimly.
“The Israelis haven’t been able to do that. How can you possibly do it?” she wondered. “Ah, I remember you hinting that you hit those terrorists in Syria. You never told me how you did that.”
“I guess it is time to do that. If, after I explain my plan to you, you want to stay out of it, I’ll understand. You can stay here until it’s over,” said Hatch. “After all, what we are going to do is not sanctioned by any government, and is most certainly illegal somewhere—if not everywhere.”
“Thanks a lot, Hatch. That really makes me feel like a heel. The only reason you’re doing this is because of me. Of course, I’m with you, whatever you have planned,” Syd said, feeling ashamed of her reluctance. “And as far as legality is concerned, it has never been clear to me that government-approved assassins are really legal. They’ll sure leave you blowing in the wind if you get caught!”
“My position exactly.”
“No more discussion of this,” Syd said.
“Then it’s time to show you Fantasyland. Let’s go,” he said.
• • •
Hatch drove them down another road with multiple switchbacks. After about ten minutes, they reached another clearing larger than the one they had left. This clearing also had a green, concrete-block building, but its prime feature was a large, metal aircraft hangar, covered in camouflage paint.
“Welcome to Fantasyland, Syd,” said Hatch. “This area is manned strictl
y by LRD personnel. You can’t see it from here, but there is quite a shooting range down that road over there.”
Syd was awed one more time. The surprises never seemed to come to an end. True, they had hinted about what was in the North Forty, but actually seeing it was something else! Hatch stopped near a door in the green building and the three of them dismounted and entered the building. As in the previous building, there was a receptionist at the desk. She was a twenty-year-old, slightly plump girl with dark skin. Her hair was done in corn rows.
“Hi Sara, Mr. Lincoln,” she said with a big smile that showed a lot of white teeth.
“Good morning, Hettie Jo. This is Ms. Steppe,” answered Hatch.
“Good morning, Ms. Steppe,” said Hettie Jo.
“Pleased to meet you, Hettie Jo. Please call me Syd.”
“Is Smitty around today?” asked Hatch.
Hettie Jo looked at her sign-in sheet and said, “Yes, sir. He signed in at 7:58 this morning. I think he said he would be over in the hangar.”
“Thanks.”
The three of them signed the log sheet and Hatch led them down a hall and through a door which entered the large hangar. Smitty was talking to a man in blue coveralls. The two were standing next to a large, strange-looking helicopter which was in the center of the hangar. A door on the helicopter was open and folded down to form steps leading into the interior of the aircraft. Syd noticed that this was much larger than the Bell 430 she had seen earlier. She had never seen anything like it before. It had a very strange skin for an aircraft, as if it were covered with millions of tiny beads. It had a large, four-bladed rotor on top, and a small one mounted vertically on a short tail boom. She couldn’t see any windows. It rested on two main wheels and a nose wheel, all of them retractable.
