Sympathy For the Devil

by Terrence McCauley

  And that’s why Hicks knew this conversation wouldn’t end well.

  As soon as Jason sat down, the stranger began, “You know who I am, don’t you?”

  “I thought I did when I walked in,” Hicks said, “but now that I’ve heard your voice, I’m sure.”

  The Dean neither smiled nor nodded nor unfolded his hands in order to make himself accessible in any way. “Let me guess. I sounded taller on the phone, right?”

  Hicks knew what he was implying, but didn’t take the bait. “I never cared what you looked like, sir. And I still don’t.”

  “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He looked at Roger. “What about you?”

  “Makes no difference to me,” Roger said, “though I always think men in your position should look like Donald Sutherland for some reason. Perhaps it’s the stoic vulnerability, especially around the eyes.”

  The Dean looked at Jason. “You were right about him.”

  Roger laughed. “No one’s ever been right about me, sir. Not now. Not ever.”

  Hicks knew the banter was meant to break the ice. But all it did was make him feel more anxious.

  The Dean looked back at Hicks. “I know how much you hate these face-to-face meetings. You think they’re a big waste of time and energy. Besides, a voice on the phone or an email in an inbox is easier to deal with than flesh and blood. Anonymity in an anonymous world.”

  Hicks hated that he knew what he was thinking. He hated being easy to read most of all. “It is, sir.”

  The Dean’s gray eyes narrowed just a bit. “How long have you been working for us?”

  “Going on fifteen years, sir. I believe you hired me.”

  “Thirteen years and four months to the day, to be precise,” the Dean said. “One of the smartest hires I’ve ever made. But in all that time we’ve never met, not even once. You never asked for a meeting, and I never offered one. Why do you think we’re meeting now?”

  “Because something has changed.”

  “Correct. Now what do you think that something is?”

  “The intelligence we got from Omar and Djebar and Samuelson and the Moroccan is probably starting to generate some results.”

  Since interrogation had begun on the tall man Hicks had grabbed with Samuelson, the man had refused to give his name. The University hadn’t been able to get a fix on his identity because his finger prints had been burned off. Facial recognition programs came up empty, too, so the interrogation teams had taken to calling him The Moroccan. He’d let that much slip during interrogation.

  “Everyone you’ve brought in has started to talk in their own way,” the Dean said, “but you’ve nabbed important targets many times since you started working with us. Albeit, never like this, but I never asked for a meeting then. Why do you think I wanted to meet now?”

  “Because, like I said, something has changed.”

  “You already said that, son. I want you to tell me what else has changed.”

  Hicks looked at the Dean’s skin. The size of his collar. His eyes. The sense he got from him. “You’re dying.”

  Jason slapped the table. “Goddamn you, Hicks. You’ll have some respect for…”

  But the Dean held up his left hand. It didn’t tremble much, but enough for Hicks to notice it better this time. For the first time, he smiled. “You’re very perceptive, James. Always have been.” He folded his hands on the table again. “You’re right. I am dying.”

  Jason sat back in his chair. “You’re what?”

  “Cancer in my brain and damned near everywhere else it can go. I’ve fought it for a long time and now, but now I’ve nothing left to fight it with. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “It’s always a matter of time, sir,” Hicks said. “Some just have a more finite deadline than others.”

  He could feel Jason glaring at him, but the Dean was all Hicks cared about. “That’s very true and it happens to be the reason why we’re having this meeting today. The University will go on well after I’m dead. It’s been around since before I was born, and it’ll carry on after me. This institution is much more than just one man and arguably, it’s never been more needed than it is right now.”

  “This has to do with what we’ve pulled from Omar and the Moroccan,” Hicks said.

  The Dean motioned to Jason who took it from there. “The Moroccan’s name is Mehdi Bajjah. He’s a thirty-five year old Moroccan whose family moved to England when he was an infant. He was educated at Eton and later Trinity College before coming to the United States as a software engineer. Like Samuelson, he’d never been particularly religious and he didn’t have any pronounced political beliefs. Married a nice Irish girl living in London at the time and had three children with her. He had the life any man in his right mind would envy until, one day six years ago, he simply disappeared.”

  “What do you mean disappeared?” Roger asked.

  “Dropped completely off the grid,” Jason said. “Walked away from his wife, his family, friends. Just went to work one morning and never came back. No note, no contact of any kind with his family. The poor woman wound up on public assistance when the money ran out. She had to move back with her family in Ireland. They had him declared legally dead a year ago.”

  “No trace of Bajjah at all?” Hicks asked. “Not even once in all those years?”

  “No credit cards, no bank accounts, nothing. He simply vanished until you saw him walk into that hotel room last week with Samuelson. We have no idea where he’s been or who he’s been with for the past six years.”

  “How much have you been getting out of Samuelson?” Hicks asked.

  “Oh, he gave up everything before we even touched him,” Jason said, “but I’m afraid he’s a dead end.”

  “How the hell is Samuelson a dead end?” Hicks asked. “He’s the link to Djebar, to Omar, to this Bajjah asshole.”

  “No he’s not,” the Dean said. “Because Samuelson didn’t steal the viruses to sell them on the black market. He stole them because that was his job. And he was working for…”

  “Djebar.” Hicks dropped his head in his hands. He rubbed his fingers along his scalp and squeezed his head until his knuckles popped. It was all so simple, so clear, he should’ve seen it the whole time. “Djebar wasn’t working for Omar. Omar was working for Djebar.”

  “Not exactly,” the Dean said. “They’re all working for someone else. Djebar was their front man, but Bajjah and Omar are merely cogs in a greater machinery we’re only beginning to understand. We’ll find out more in time, but it’ll be slow going. Samuelson doesn’t know many details and Omar is close to cracking completely. Djebar and Bajjah were the better trained of the bunch and are much harder to break, though we’re making progress.”

  “Bajjah’s the toughest of the bunch,” Jason added.

  Roger smiled. “Give him to me for the weekend, honey, and we’ll see how tough he is.”

  “We want him functional,” Jason said. “The British say you damned near turned Djebar into a catatonic. He’s only just beginning to regain his senses.”

  Roger shrugged. “I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

  Hicks’ head was spinning. He’d been wrong about everything from the beginning and only saw it now. He’d had everything upside down. About Omar and Djebar and everything. He wanted to be anywhere but there. He would’ve gotten up and left if he didn’t think he’d pass out before he reached the door. He wouldn’t give Jason the satisfaction of seeing him faint. He’d already embarrassed himself enough.

  The Dean said, “Stop kicking yourself in the ass, Hicks. We wouldn’t have known any of this was going on if it hadn’t been for you and Colin. Christ knows how far those diseases could’ve spread if we hadn’t gotten a lid on it as fast as we did. You saved a lot of lives.”

  Hicks knew it was supposed to make him feel better, but it didn’t. He hadn’t saved Colin’s. “We got lucky.”

  “We got lucky because we’re good,” the Dean said. “You were good and you stopped the
immediate threat. And your instincts led us to a wider operation no one knew existed and I mean no one. CIA, NSA, FBI, or anyone overseas. They’re all banging at our door now and we’re sitting on it because it’s ours.” The Dean slowly sat back from the table. “Unfortunately, no good deed goes unpunished.”

  Hicks knew all of this was too good to be true. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve stopped the immediate threat here in New York and whatever Bajjah was planning to do. We think he was looking to start an outbreak in D.C. when Omar’s New York operation fell apart, but that’s just speculation at this point. What’s clear is that all of these bastards are part of a much larger network we didn’t know existed. And I’m going to need you to go after them.”

  “In New York?” Hicks asked.

  “Anywhere they are in the world,” the Dean said. “And we can’t waste much time. Now that they know someone’s on to them, we’ll have a harder time finding them. They’ve enjoyed obscurity for a long time.”

  “The stunt they pulled here was flawed,” Jason added, “but not by much. Samuelson and his team had been able to hone the viruses to breed quickly, but they didn’t count for them incapacitating the host before they could spread the disease. We know they’re bound to try again and soon. That’s why we need to act quickly.”

  Hicks didn’t doubt they’d be anxious to try again. The only thing he doubted was the role he could play in stopping it. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

  “I’m dying, James,” the Dean said. “But determining what we’re up against here is a bigger job than anything the University has undertaken before. You’ve been on it literally from the beginning and I need you to make sure we get off on the right foot. I need someone who will resist whatever winds of change that might come after I’m gone and make sure we don’t lose sight of finding out everything we can about whoever is responsible for this. Your contempt for bureaucracy is well documented and I have a feeling it’ll come in handy before all is said and done.”

  Hicks read between the lines. “You’re not just talking about internal bureaucracy, are you, sir?”

  “External forces will be even more severe than those coming from whoever replaces me,” the Dean said. “Our sister agencies are annoyed we’re not being as forthcoming with the information they’re requesting. They’ve sensed there’s something to this threat and our involvement in stopping it, but we’ve been able to keep them in the dark so far. They’ve never really valued our efforts to this point and I never saw any reason to prove them wrong. But now that we’ve got something they want, I’m afraid we may have to endure more scrutiny from them.”

  “And the fact that I’m blackmail proof makes me less susceptible to influence from outside forces.”

  “No one’s blackmail-proof,” Jason said. “Everyone’s got a weakness.”

  “Everyone but Hicks,” the Dean said. “He’s one of the few who don’t. He doesn’t have a wife, or kids, or any relatives close to him worth mentioning. Certainly no one whose safety our colleagues could use to threaten him. All he has is the job and that’s why I want him for this role.”

  “Understood, sir. I’ve kept other agencies at bay before and I can do it again. But what about my work here in the New York Office? I’ve got dozens of operations going on and I can’t just drop them. I’ve got people in the field, assets to work…”

  “You can work wherever you’d like,” the Dean said, “but Jason here will be managing the New York Office while you’re on this assignment. Now, I know you two won’t be exchanging Christmas cards any time soon, but even you must admit he’s the only member of the University system who knows what’s happening with this office other than you.”

  Hicks hated to admit it, but the Dean was right. “I’ll work to make sure it’s a seamless transition, sir. What resources will I have in my new assignment?”

  “Anything you require,” the Dean said, “at least for as long as I am in office. I’ll do my best to hang on for as long as I can until you have everything up and running, but as you know, that’s not entirely in my control. But you’re an industrious man. I’m sure you’ll be up and running in no time.”

  “What are my parameters?”

  “You’re to find these people, learn everything you can from them and kill them. All of them, before they kill us. And I’m asking Roger here to serve as your Inquisitor in this effort, a role I know he’ll appreciate.”

  Hicks saw Roger looked less than pleased. “I don’t want to leave New York.” He motioned to Jason. “And I sure as hell don’t want to work with him.”

  “You may not have to, but you will if that’s what’s required,” Jason said. “You’ve been allowed to operate your club with a fair amount of autonomy for a long time now. That will change if you don’t cooperate. Oh, and the current level of funding you provide the New York Office will continue, of course.”

  “Oh, of course,” Roger parroted, then blew him a kiss.

  To Hicks, Jason said, “We won’t need you to move out of your Thirty-fourth Street facility at the moment, but we’ll broach that subject at a later date.”

  “I’m not going anywhere and it’s not on Thirty-fourth Street,” Hicks said. He saw his chance to tweak Jason’s nose a bit. “Do I start right away or do I need to undergo any kind of evaluation process? Psych reviews, things like that?”

  Jason fumbled with his notes as the Dean answered for him. “You were fit enough to uncover this plot single-handedly and pull down everyone involved. I think you’re fit enough for this.”

  Hicks knew he should’ve been happy or at least proud, but he wasn’t. He’d just been given his own command but it felt hollow somehow. “I just wish Colin was here to help me see it through, sir.”

  “We all do, James,” the Dean said. “And for his sake, and for the sake of the people we protect, I know you’re the best person for this assignment. I’ll alert all the University Office Heads throughout the system that you have authority to call on them whenever you need it.” The Dean tried a smile. “I’d wish you luck, but you make your own, so I’ll save my breath. Just know you have my complete support and I look forward to seeing results.”

  “And soon,” Jason added. “Very soon.”

  Neither of them offered to shake hands, so neither did Hicks. He and Roger simply stood up and walked out of the kitchen.

  Jason always had been a last word freak.

  ROGER TOOK a cab back to his club and offered to open a bottle of champagne to celebrate. He even offered to put the men in leather hoods in another room. But Hicks declined. He wanted to walk for a bit, anyway.

  He’d heard everything the Dean had told him. He knew the support he’d thrown behind him. In all his years in the University, he’d never seen him do that for anyone.

  He should’ve been happy or at least excited about all of this, but he wasn’t. He didn’t feel a thing and knew he never would. He rarely felt anything, which was what had made him ideal for the kind of work he did. The work was all he had. He’d never wanted anything else.

  He pulled out his handheld and called someone he figured would understand. She picked up just before the phone went to voicemail.

  “Why are you calling?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Who said anything’s wrong? I know we didn’t set the world on fire the other night, but I still wanted to call and thank you. This was the first chance I had to do it.”

  “A gentleman,” she said. He heard the smile in her voice. “How chivalrous of you. How are you doing?”

  “Busy week,” he said. “Lot happened, but it turned out okay in the end, I guess. I was wondering if you were still in New York. Maybe we could meet for a drink, seeing as how well our last drink turned out.”

  “Now you’re just being silly,” she said. “You know I’m still in town. You know everything, remember?”

  “No, I didn’t know, but I’m glad you are. And you’re wrong about me knowing everything. I don’t know if you�
�re going to say yes.”

  “I think you did. How does the Bull and Bear sound? Five o’clock?”

  “Let’s say the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis,” Hicks said. “You know I don’t like going to the same bar twice in a row.”

  “Of course. Proprieties must be observed. See you there at five.”

  She hung up the phone and Hicks put the handheld back in his pocket. Enough work for one day.

  A light snow began to fall and some of it had already begun to stick on the cars and sidewalk. Another storm was rolling in.

  He used to like the snow, but didn’t anymore.

  Thanks to Maura Lynch, Tessa Ruiz, Andrew Solomon, Debora Oliveira, Melissa Gardella and Tiffany Leigh for providing invaluable insight on this book in its earliest stages.

  Thanks to my resident gun experts Blackie Noir and Derek Viljoen for their advice on the various weapons that appear in this book, especially Blackie who first told me about the Ruger .454 Alaskan. They had me at ‘it can core a charging bear’.

  Thanks to Lorin and Micheal Mask, Alyson Giller, Melissa Lomax, Eric Frank, Kathy English, Col. A.J. Copp USMC (ret), Col. Christine Voss Copp USAF, C.J. Carpenter, Brian Madden, William Donohue, Wesley Gibson, Liz Thaler, Steve Agovino, Dana Kabel, Charles Salzberg, Will D., Phyllis Sambuco, Mike Consani, Dana King, Mike Reyes, Mae Patel, Richie Narvaez, Anamaria Alfieri, Mark Mannix, Donna Evans, Tanis Mallow and Rob Brunet for their constant encouragement and belief in my work.

  Thanks to Mike, Pat, Juan, the two Sams, Cliff, Jeff, the two Adams, Mark and all the gang at the Nat Sherman Townhouse in New York City for all the great times and all the great cigars.

  Thanks to Todd Robinson, Matt Hilton, Ron Fortier, Rob Davis, Paul Bishop, Jack Getze and Les Edgerton who believed in me when a lot of people told me to give up writing. Each of you found me at a low-ebb in my writing career and pushed me to keep going.

  Thank you to James Grady, whose work ‘Six Days of the Condor’ and the movie based on his work ‘Three Days of the Condor’ caused me to fall in love with this genre at an early age and inspired me to try my hand at this genre.