by J. C. Fields
“How were you contacted?”
“Normal method, email to a blind mailbox. This place is off the grid. I only access the internet off-site.”
“Good. I can have my colleague monitor the box.”
There was silence as Wolfe sipped his coffee. “What do you think?”
“I don’t have enough information at the moment.”
Nadia took her coffee cup and walked to the window. She stared into the distance for several minutes before she turned. “I don’t think it was anyone from my employer. My concern is that Mossad’s been compromised.”
“Why do you say that?”
“We’ve had several of my fellow members disappear over the past year. We didn’t think anything about it, because…” She hesitated. “You know, things happen.”
Joseph nodded.
“What if they were set up, just like I was? Could you check on your side to see if anyone’s gone missing this past year?”
Wolfe and Nadia watched the man they knew as Charlie Rose. A blank expression met their gaze as he mulled something over in his mind.
Wolfe spoke first. “You know something, don’t you?”
“Yes. Before I answer I need to know one more thing, Nadia.”
“Okay.”
“Who is missing?”
She stole a quick glance at Wolfe, who nodded. “Do you know Asa Gerlis?”
With a grim smile, Joseph nodded.
“He was my controller until he…”
“I’m aware of what happened.”
“The missing agents all worked for him.”
“Hmmm…”
She sipped her coffee again, gave it a frown and headed toward the kitchen. As she poured more coffee into her mug, she looked at the now-silent Joseph. “You are puzzled?”
Wolfe picked up on the change in Joseph’s attitude. “I’ve seen that look before, Charlie.”
“I need a fresh cup of coffee. Is there any left, Nadia?”
She smiled and nodded. “Help yourself.”
Standing, he proceeded to the coffeemaker, his silence growing louder by the second. After pouring a fresh cup, he took a sip and looked back at Wolfe and Picard. “There have been—uh—a few incidents over the past year.”
“Just what the hell does, ‘a few incidents’, mean?” Wolfe put his hands on his hips and glared.
“It means just that, a few incidents.”
“Ours was not an incident.”
“What would you call it?”
“A blatant attack.”
Taking a seat on a bar stool next to the kitchen island, Joseph looked at Nadia and then at Michael. “The agency has lost three in the past eighteen months. Mossad lost two. The circumstances you described were similar in all five incidents.
Wolfe blinked a few times and walked closer to Nadia. “Where?”
“Istanbul, Prague and Budapest.”
“Mossad?”
“Ankara, Turkey and Cyprus.”
“Any suspects?”
Joseph shook his head. “Made to look like accidents.”
Chapter 3
Somewhere in Southern Missouri
W olfe lay in bed, his hands behind his head, staring at the dimly-lit ceiling. This section of the house lacked windows. The available light came from a digital clock on the nightstand. He heard the shower shut off and smiled. Nadia refused to go to bed without taking a shower first. It was a personality trait older than their friendship. At one time they had been lovers, but that was many years ago. Now they were partners in the task of determining who wanted to kill them. He heard the bathroom door open and then felt her slip under the sheets next to him. She smelled of rose petals and vanilla.
“Are you awake?” Her voice soft, barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
She snuggled up to him. He automatically put his arm around her bare shoulder, the heat from her body comforting as she placed an arm over his chest. He felt bare skin against his.
“Why did you leave Israel, Michael?”
He did not answer for a few moments. “I felt my presence was endangering your life.”
“How?”
“Someone told me, in no uncertain terms, our relationship was not good for your health.”
“Who told you that?”
“Asa Gerlis.”
She was quiet as her fingers combed through the hairs on his chest. “He never said anything to me about it. When did he tell you?”
“The night you flew back from France and I met you at Ben Gurion Airport.”
“I wondered why you were quiet that night.”
“He explained how my services to Israel were no longer needed and I should return to the States. He didn’t give me any options.”
She slipped a hand toward his flat stomach, not stopping until it was beneath his boxer shorts. He turned his head and kissed her brow. “What are you doing? I thought we agreed to take it slow until we figured out what to do about Barcelona.”
“We did take it slow. Now I want to speed it up. Make love to me, Michael. I need you tonight.”
He moved his other hand from behind his head and embraced her tightly.
She sang a song in her native French while she looked for eggs in the refrigerator. As she bent to retrieve them, her robe rose to the middle of her tanned thighs.
“Nice view from back here.”
She smiled as she flipped up the back of the robe, exposing her bare bottom.
“Be careful,” he said. “I might repeat last night.”
She turned. “I would like that. But first, I am starved. You have not had a proper French omelet for a long time, I am sure.”
“Not like you make them.”
“Good. Are these eggs fresh?”
He nodded. “I have chickens.”
Before cracking the egg, she raised one eyebrow. “Who takes care of these chickens when you are away?”
“A friend.”
“Who?”
“The guy who helped me build this house and who takes care of it while I’m gone.”
Folding her arms, she glared at him. “Michael, I do not see you trusting anyone enough to know about this place.”
“He’s an old military friend, diagnosed with PTSD. I help him and he helps me.”
“And where does this person live? I did not see a house for miles when we first got here.”
“At the far end of my property is an old cabin left over from the original homestead back in the 1800s. I gave him a couple of acres surrounding it and we added a few modern touches, like plumbing and electricity. He’s doing better now.”
“Do you trust him?”
“With my life.”
She relaxed and went back to cracking eggs for their omelets.
Wolfe busied himself making coffee as she prepared their breakfast. As the water started passing through the grinds, he looked at her and grinned. The semi-closed robe exposed most of her breasts. “I am enjoying the view.”
She looked down, grinned and partially closed the robe.
He leaned against the kitchen island. “Do you like it here?”
Her green eyes sparkled as she flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Yes. I have not been able to relax like this in years. I like the solitude.”
“I finally figured out why Asa told me to leave Israel.”
“Oh…”
“He was jealous.”
“He was married.”
“Doesn’t stop some men from being jealous.”
She frowned and returned her attention to the omelet. Her silence told him all he needed to know.
“When did he try to get you into bed?”
“The night he told me you had left.”
“Comforting a broken heart. How gallant of him.”
She shot him a fierce glare. “He was disgusting.”
“What did he tell you about my departure?”
“Not much—just that you returned to the States.”
She plated the perf
ectly folded omelet in her normal fashion. With her momentary anger gone, she offered him the plate. “Tell me how good it is.”
Accepting the plate, he watched as she started another one.
As she cracked more eggs, her voice grew soft. “Has there been anyone else in your life since me, Michael?”
He studied the dark liquid in his coffee mug and shook his head. “No.”
She did not respond immediately, her face brightened. “I have been alone as well.”
A comfortable silence occurred as he watched her prepare the next omelet.
“What did Asa tell you?”
Taking a deep breath, she plated her own omelet. “He said you had an emergency and would not be returning to Israel.”
“No explanation.”
“No, no explanation.”
He watched as moisture pooled in the corner of her eyes. “I’m sorry. He lied to both of us.”
“Yes, I am sorry too.” She blinked several times. “But now we know the truth and the incident is history. Eat your omelet before it gets cold.”
“I was waiting for you.”
They sat next to each other at the breakfast bar and ate quietly. He stole several glances at her to find her looking at him as well. Finally, Wolfe broke the silence. “Better than I remembered. I’ve missed your cooking.”
Placing a hand on his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder, she smiled. “I have missed you too.”
He took her hand and led her back to the bedroom.
As they lay in each other’s arms, savoring the moment, Nadia broke the silence. “How much do you trust this Charlie Rose person?”
“It’s not his real name. He was my controller while I worked for the CIA. He’s always been a little on the mysterious side, but he’s never lied to me. So, I guess I do. To a point.”
She grew quiet, her thoughts miles away. “What is his real name?”
“Joseph Kincaid.”
She raised herself up on one elbow. “I wondered how he knew my name. I now remember where we met—he attended several meetings with Asa in Tel Aviv before you and I were together.”
“I don’t doubt it. I’ve always been amazed at how many individuals Joseph knows or has worked with.”
They lay in each other’s arms again, her head on his chest, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally, she said. “Joseph will be back tomorrow with this JR person. Who is he?”
“From what Charlie—uh—I mean Joseph told me, he’s one of the best computer hackers in the world. Some years back, he apparently got into trouble after hacking into the computer of a Wall Street executive and diverting a lot of money. He got caught. The executive decided it was simpler to kill him than turn him over to the police. He escaped, changed his identity and is now a very successful businessman.”
“What about the executive? Did he pursue the matter?”
“No. Turns out he was running a Ponzi scheme with his investors. It didn’t end well for him.”
She snuggled against him. “How is he going to assist us?”
“Several ways. He is going to create two new identities we can use to travel. And then he will create the illusion we are dead.”
“Yes, I know that. But how?”
“Not sure. Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Chapter 4
Somewhere in Southern Missouri
W here the hell are you taking me, Joseph?”
JR Diminski held the Range Rover’s grab-bar above the front passenger door as the vehicle swayed back and forth on the so-called road leading to Michael Wolfe’s home. He stared ahead as he tried to keep his slender five-foot-ten frame from bouncing off the seat.
“Michael’s property is, uh… Let’s just say, secluded.”
“I would say secluded is an understatement.” He paused “Is this the property you wanted hidden from prying satellites?”
“Yes.”
Diminski frowned. “Not sure anybody would look for a home this far into the boonies.”
Joseph glanced at his friend. “You might be surprised.”
“You want me to help them disappear?”
“You’ve done it before.”
Diminski bounced in his seat after a particularly deep pot-hole and thought back to the circumstances surrounding his meeting the man currently driving the Range Rover. JR Diminski was not his birth name. After his past transgressions caught up to him, Joseph helped him create a new life.
Now the owner of a successful computer security company, he understood how to protect companies from hackers like himself. He also knew how to subvert the vast majority of computer security measures currently in use across the country. Over the past five years, this knowledge had allowed him to assist Joseph on numerous projects.
“Do they have multiple IDs?”
Joseph smiled.
“I’ll take that as yes.”
“Take it how you want.”
“Do they know you as Charlie Rose or Joseph?”
“Rose.”
“Okay. I’ll try to remember that.”
“No big deal—they know it isn’t my real name. I was Michael’s CIA control until he started working for Israel some years back. He reminds me of you in ways and I have a lot of respect for him. We’ve kept in contact.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “I like him.”
JR chuckled. “He still works for you, doesn’t he?”
There was no reply, only a slight grin.
“Thought so. He works for your network.”
“He hasn’t for a while, but I’d like to see him come back.”
“Got it. What’s his story?”
“His resume is pretty impressive. Decorated Marine sniper during Desert Shield and Desert Storm. Left the military and earned a degree in International Business Management at Georgetown University. He spent several years working for me at the CIA. During this period, he met a woman from Israel, got married and moved there. After she was killed in a Palestinian terrorist attack, he did a little work for the Mossad.”
“What kind of work?”
Joseph did not respond.
“Okay, got it. What else?”
“Now he calls himself an international business consultant. He’s handy with languages, fluent in French, German, Hebrew and passable in Spanish and Arabic.”
“Impressive.”
“He’s an impressive individual. Kind of like you.”
JR shot Joseph a quick glance. “How so?”
“He’s as good a marksman as you are a computer hacker.”
“Really?”
Joseph nodded.
“How good?”
“He took out a target at over 1600 meters on a windy beach in Madagascar in 2014. Headshot.”
JR whistled.
“Yeah, he’s good.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting him.”
“Curb your enthusiasm. He has an issue with trusting people.”
“As do I.”
Michael Wolfe shook the hand of JR Diminski as Joseph introduced them. They each stared at the other without comment. He presented Nadia next. She smiled but kept her distance afterward.
Wolfe spoke first. “You did nice work on the satellite image. Thank you.”
JR nodded but did not reply. He adjusted his wire-rim glasses and glanced around the living room. “Now that I see the terrain at ground level, I can adjust the image better. The entrance can be made to look more natural.”
Smiling, Wolfe turned to Joseph. “Now what?”
Gesturing in JR’s direction, Joseph walked toward the coffeemaker on the kitchen island and poured a cup. “JR can assist with the issue we discussed yesterday.”
Turning his attention to JR, Wolfe tilted his head. “Charlie indicated you’ve done it before.”
JR nodded. “I have.”
“What do you need from us?”
“A set of IDs. Ones you will never be able to use again.”
Nadia spoke for the first t
ime. “We can use our Spanish ones. After all, we were in Barcelona when everything went sideways.”
Wolfe nodded. “Makes sense. Then what?”
“A contact in Mexico City will handle the rest. Cost is ten thousand per, so twenty thousand.”
“Okay.”
“I do the rest.”
“How much?”
“My part is free, Joseph…” He hesitated and shot a glance at his friend. “I mean Charlie and I go back a few years. I owe him.”
Smiling, Wolfe raised his hand and waved off the comment. “I’ve known his name was Joseph Kincaid for years. I’ve just always called him Charlie.”
Joseph shook his head and pursed his lips. “So much for trying to keep a secret.”
Wolfe folded his arms and returned his attention to JR. “How’s this going to work?”
“We have to establish a sighting of you two in Mexico City, without you actually being there.”
“How?”
“Simple, really. If you were to go to Mexico City from, let’s say, Spain. Where would you go?”
Wolfe remained quiet.
Nadia gave JR a decisive nod. “There’s a small apartment in the La Juarez area, we have—uh—frequented.”
JR nodded as he opened his laptop.
“I don’t have internet.” The comment came from Wolfe.
Looking up from the computer, JR frowned. “Forgot. I’ll have to do it a little different.” He took out his cell phone and checked to see if he had a signal. It was weak, but would work. After a few minutes, he started typing on his laptop. When he finished, he looked up. “What’s the address?”
Nadia walked over to Wolfe’s side. “30 Calle Milan. Northwest corner of the intersection of Calle Milan and Calle Lucerno, second floor apartment.”
JR beamed. The directions were perfect. He pointed to his computer screen. “Is that it?”
Moving to get behind JR, Nadia glanced at the computer and nodded. “Yes. How did you do that?”
Chuckling, JR said, “Google Earth. It’s amazing how many street level views you can find.”
Keeping his attention on her, JR asked, “How frequently are you two there?”
Nadia frowned. “Never together. It is what you would call a safe house for the company I worked for.”
