by David Archer
“No sign of her,” Gary said. “Just Dawson, all alone. I even looked over the rest of the people at the concourse who were waiting for the same flight, but there was no one there that could have been her.”
“Then she’s probably dead,” Noah said. “He wouldn’t want to take the chance she might be captured, she knows too much.” He closed his eyes for a moment as if he were deep in thought, then shook his head and looked up again. “Renée? Was there anything particular about her that he might want to keep us from learning?”
Renée looked into his eyes for a few seconds, then shrugged her shoulders. “Noah, I really didn’t have that much to do with her after she made the mask. I mean, I vaguely remember her being there talking to me sometimes, but it’s in that gray area of my memory, because of the drugs. I couldn’t really say if there was anything special about her at all.”
Noah reported to Allison that Dawson had taken off for Australia, and they were ordered to follow. Fortunately, the Gulfstream was waiting at the airport and could be fueled and ready by the time they arrived. They quickly packed their bags and headed out, and all of them were able to sleep during the long flight.
Shortly before they landed, Noah received a call.
“Camelot,” he answered.
“It’s Allison,” she said unnecessarily, fully aware that Noah’s caller ID would tell him it was her. “We have a lead that may pay off for you. Somebody at the CIA picked up a little bit of information that indicates Dawson will be meeting Spear tonight in Sydney. The meeting is taking place at the U.S. Embassy there, and arrangements have already been made for you to attend. There is an embassy ball, and we have reason to believe that Dawson’s target will also be present. Unfortunately, we don’t know yet who it is.”
“All right,” Noah said. “We’ll handle it. Of course, we’ll have to be disguised once again. Dawson has seen all of us up close now, and more than once.”
“Do what you have to do,” Allison said. “This is your chance, Noah, to take Spear down once and for all. And don’t miss Dawson, while you’re at it. Donald deserves vengeance, as well.”
“I won’t,” he said, but the line had already gone dead.
FIFTEEN
As Allison had promised, all the arrangements were made before they arrived. A car was waiting for them and took them to a hotel near the embassy, so they could rest for the remainder of the day and get freshened up. Clothes were also brought to them, suitable for attending a ball, and they spent a good part of the afternoon discussing just how they intended to approach the situation.
Gary was tasked with coming up with new disguises. Jenny became a brunette with an overbite and an acne problem, and even Noah admitted he wouldn’t recognize her if he ran into her on the street. Neil, almost impossible to disguise because of his height, actually got stuffing put in his shoes to make him two inches taller. Some padding around his middle and some fake muscles added to chest and arms improved the disguise, but it was the addition of the beard and shoulder-length flowing brown hair that transformed him the rest of the way.
“I look like a biker that’s been dressed up for a funeral or something,” he joked.
“Don’t knock it,” Jenny said. “I think you actually look pretty good.”
Marco and Gary, who were about the same height, both became bald. With a pair of glasses and a little bit of stuffing inside their cheeks, they were completely unrecognizable.
Noah decided to forgo any disguise. As it happened, the only times Dawson had seen him, he had been wearing a wig and makeup or even more; he thought that perhaps the best disguise was to simply go as himself.
That left only Renée, who also refused a disguise.
“All I need is a decent gown,” she said. “This face is exactly the one I need to wear into this fancy soirée.”
Nobody was inclined to argue with her.
* * *
The time arrived, and they all got ready to go. Once Noah, Jenny and Marco had already entered, Renée walked with her two companions, Neil and Gary, into the ballroom.
Noah watched as the ballroom filled with elegant patrons, high-class patricians, and society devotees. Purses and pockets were checked for potential weapons, but no one fussed too much about the inconvenience. With such influential V.I.P.s out and about, how could they? Besides, it was an honor just being invited to such an event.
Two of the three potential targets had already arrived. The Saudi Prince was speaking directly to the United States Ambassador, a man named Hunter Jamison, as he glanced out of the corner of his eye at the sumptuous buffet being catered by the embassy’s efficient kitchen staff. A man named Patrick McNealy, a high-ranking official in the Australian banking industry, was talking to a young woman at the other end of the buffet, and the third possible target, an American congressman named Levine, was flirting with one of the caterers while his muscular bodyguards stood by, giving suspicious and furtive glances at anyone who approached their charge. So far, no one associated with Dawson was visible.
An elegant middle-aged lady with a reddish tint to her up-swept hair approached Noah, dressed in a pale blue beaded gown. She lifted a gloved hand to shake his own. “Mr. Rogers from the United States?” she asked. At his nod, she continued, “I am Dolores. Jorge Montoya, who assists Daniel Wentworth, is my husband.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Montoya.” Daniel Wentworth was the technology attaché of the embassy, but he was also the E & E liaison in Sydney.
“Jorge tells me that Daniel will be here soon. A pouch needed to be delivered and apparently he was held up somewhere nearby. It shouldn’t take him very long.”
An impressive orchestra started gentle, graceful music just as Renée, Gary and Neil arrived. Noah watched her as she politely parted from her escorts and started to work the room. She introduced herself as Abigail Willis and immediately shook hands, graciously curtsied or allowed the men to kiss her fingers as she spoke kindly but fleetingly with them. Noah knew the woman well enough to see that she was getting a feel for the guests, obtaining information, checking to see if they seemed to recognize her as an associate of Dawson.
She was professional and infinitely approachable, he thought. Not just her manner, but she was quite stunning, possibly the loveliest woman in the room. Renée was the type of woman the men did not just lust after; most of them also wanted their photographs taken with her. He could just imagine the stories they told their friends back home, lies about the passionate nights spent with this gorgeous lady.
Ambassador Prakov arrived with his bride, Ivania, on his arm. He appeared as composed as ever, but he smiled ever so slightly when she whispered something into his ear. She led him onto the dance floor and they moved in close, swaying together, as did others.
Gary came up beside Noah. “Any sign of Dawson?”
“Not yet.”
Suddenly, his attention was back on Renée. The man who had pulled her onto the dance floor was tall, dark and imposing. His hands were moving in directions less than proper. His style, the way he held her, was too demanding and Noah could tell from her expression that she was not overly happy with his manners. He looked across the room and made eye contact with Marco, who had also been watching the scene. The backup man quickly made his presence known, cutting in on the aggressive Lothario. Marco’s size was too intimidating to say no to, and soon he danced gracefully with a grateful Renée. At a loss, the man turned about and walked to a set of impressive stained glass double doors.
“I’m going to question him.” Noah left Gary to track Renée’s belligerent would-be suitor. He began to wonder if Dawson had fitted himself with a new mask and might have made demands. He was certain, if that was the case, that Renée would have sent signals to one of her team members; in fact, her subcom was definitely on. Yet, she had been through so much lately, it would not surprise Noah if the woman was off her game where Dawson was concerned.
He followed the man out onto the ballroom’s long, wrap-around balcony and casually approache
d him, offering him a cigar; a moment later, Noah discovered the man was simply another jerk, like so many others. He had drunk too much before arriving at the party and, seeing a woman he liked, demanded what was not his. Noah was a little disappointed that he had no reason to treat the man with anything other than disdain, considering the liberties he had taken with one of his people. Still, it was a good sign as well. So far, there were no real threats.
When he returned to the ballroom, he saw Renée dancing with Daniel Wentworth. The man had finally arrived and, although Noah found it curious that he immediately decided to contact Renée rather than himself, he did not question the choice. Wentworth was likely just pleased she was well enough to attend the party.
Marco came up behind Noah in the jamb of the double-doors. “He cut in on me,” he said, “and seemed to have something important to say to her. His assistant Montoya made it clear I should let him have her.”
Noah watched as Renée looked up at Wentworth and nodded. Montoya was standing off to one side, also watching them. Noah listened closely to the low sounds coming through her subcom and nodded.
“I think he might be telling her that Dawson is here somewhere.”
His eyes darted about the ballroom, searching, but there was no obvious sign of the assassin. “He’s nowhere in sight,” he said, “and if he is here, it doesn’t look like he has made any move whatsoever to approach any of the potential targets.”
“Mr. Rogers.”
Noah had been so focused on looking for Dawson that he didn’t realize that Wentworth and Renée had stepped away from the dance floor and now joined him, with Montoya shadowing. He shook Wentworth’s hand and nodded at Renée, then shook hands with Montoya as well. “Glad you were able to make it,” he said to Wentworth.
“Is everything secure?” Wentworth asked.
“Yes, so far. What do you think Dawson is waiting for?”
“No idea,” the man replied. “I’m just a paper pusher, though, you’re the one who has to deal with the likes of him.”
“Noah,” Marco whispered through the subcom. “I just heard from Neil. He has some reason to believe the Saudi is the target. We need to get him out of here.”
Noah was quick. “Marco, go to the Saudi Prince, show him your credentials, and get him away from this ballroom. Use force if you have to.”
“I’m going to move Mr. McNealy out onto the balcony,” Renée said. “He’s another possibility.”
Jenny suddenly appeared at Noah’s elbow. “I’ll take the congressman,” she said. “He likes blondes, anyway.”
“Go,” Noah said and watched as his people dispersed throughout the ballroom. He turned his attention away from them to speak with Wentworth, but saw that the man had moved across the room as well, to talk with Ambassador Jamison. He then watched as Marco moved the seemingly cooperative prince across the ballroom, followed by his guards, and out the double doors into the foyer.
Noah spoke softly into his subcom. “Neil, keep your eyes on Wentworth, make sure nothing happens to him.”
“On it,” the tall, young man replied, looking around for the liaison.
Renée, her arm entwined in McNealy’s, gently pulled him along. The youthful woman who had been his date was peeved, but was being spoken with by his guards, who were left to appease her.
Everything seemed to be going well until Neil lost sight of Mr. Wentworth. He was no longer near the ambassador, and in fact, he did not appear to be in the room at all. Neil nearly made a move toward the foyer when, instinctively, his eyes focused on the open doors to the balcony. Something intuitive rumbled up from his gut and he moved to follow Renée and McNealy as Jenny appeared at the opposite side of the room with Congressman Levine. He stopped when he saw Renée, the bank official and Wentworth standing in a circle near a row of tall bushes, talking. There were others on the large outdoor balcony getting air, smoking, laughing and drinking. Nothing seemed amiss, but somehow Neil felt a tightening in the pit of his stomach, an awareness that kept him on alert. He moved closer to Renée, just in time to hear Wentworth say something that seemed a little odd.
“As you know, in Australia it’s summer in the winter and winter during the summer, and never the twain shall meet.” He then exited the balcony as Renée did exactly as she had been programmed to do.
Face impassive, the E & E agent pulled a gun from her purse, a firearm she had not had when she had entered the ballroom, and aimed it directly at Patrick McNealy’s head. The man backed up, stunned and terrified.
“NO!” Neil shouted as he ran toward them, knowing already that he’d never make it in time. The gun fired, but not before a hand and body pressed its way through one of the tall bushes and pushed her arm upward, the bullet lodging into the ceiling above the balcony. Women screamed and glasses shattered as surprised guests got the fright of their lives. Renée, woozy and faint, collapsed into the arms of a fair-haired, tall and rugged man as McNealy stared in shock. For Neil, there had never been a more welcoming sight than that sudden appearance of Noah Wolf.
“All of you, Renée just tried to kill McNealy! Converge on us now!” Noah called, pulling the gun from Renée’s hand.
Gary, who was still in the ballroom, headed toward the balcony and met Wentworth coming from that direction. He started to hurry past when he saw something out of the corner of his eye, then grabbed the liaison officer by the arm and dragged him aside. He was staring at him as Marco came hurrying in from the opposite direction and Jenny rushed toward the balcony.
“You’re good,” Gary said as he looked into the man’s eyes. “Maybe even better than me.”
“What are you talking about?” Ambassador Jamison asked, approaching them. He seemed confused by Gary’s question and Wentworth’s sudden expression of contempt.
“Grab him,” Gary said to Marco, and Marco grabbed Wentworth by the arm. While Marco held him steady, Gary reached just inside the man’s collar and pulled firmly at what looked like a flap of skin hanging loose. The mask he had spotted peeled off and underneath, arrogant and smirking, was Caleb Dawson. Gary was holding the mask out for the Ambassador to see when Mr. Montoya came in from the foyer, his eyes going wide when he saw what was happening.
Marco suddenly understood how Renée had gotten the gun. On the dance floor, it was slipped into her purse by Dawson. As Daniel Wentworth, he never would have been subjected to a search like a typical guest.
Jamison stood with his mouth open, sputtering, and that was when Dawson made his move. His left hand whipped out and struck Marco in the face, causing him to lose his grip for a second. That second was all the man needed, as he kicked Gary in the groin and turned to run.
Marco had stumbled into Ambassador Jamison and the two of them almost went down together. By the time he recovered, Dawson made his way into the panicking crowd and vanished.
SIXTEEN
Embassy guards began searching for the real Wentworth, whose body was finally found stuffed into a trash container behind the embassy building. When they went back over his timeline for the day, it appeared that Dawson had killed him and replaced him at some point before lunch.
Patrick McNealy, after being quickly debriefed about what had happened, was immediately assigned special security by the Australian Secret Intelligence Service. He was spirited away less than half an hour after the attempt on his life, and ASIS agents would be protecting him for the foreseeable future.
It was quickly determined that Dawson had not returned to his hotel, and was currently in the wind. Despite every effort to locate him by facial recognition and every video source possible, there was no sign of the man anywhere.
Renée had been handed over to the embassy physician for examination, and he was able to confirm that she had trace amounts of numerous drugs in her system. Several of them were considered hypnotics, drugs that could cause someone to subconsciously obey commands.
“A posthypnotic suggestion?” Marco asked the doctor. “They honestly programmed her to commit a murder?”
“It’s not the first time something like this has happened,” Noah said. “It’s been done before. When someone is under the influence of these drugs, the commands go directly to the subconscious mind, to surface when a particular phrase or event triggers it.”
“But why?” Marco asked. “Why would they try to use her that way? She said they were planning to let the other woman commit a murder and try to pin it on her.”
Noah shook his head. “This could have been a backup plan, maybe,” he said. “Or perhaps this was the real plan all along and Renée was fed that story just in case we were to recover her. Knowing that Dawson was due to strike here, the odds were good that she would end up in a position to carry out her programming.”
“Not that good,” Neil said. “I would think it would be more likely she would have been shipped off for some kind of evaluation or treatment, after being kidnapped and tortured. If we had done that, if we’d sent her back to Neverland, what then?”
“Dawson was obviously ready to carry out the assassination himself. Finding Renée there was probably just a stroke of good luck for him, but one he had planned for. Disguised as Wentworth, he took advantage of the situation and this is the result.”
“What I want to know,” Marco growled, “is where he got off to. The man almost seemed to vanish into thin air.”
“Others have said the same about us at times,” Noah said. “Anyone in the assassination game learns to disappear in a crowd pretty quickly, or they don’t last long. All he had to do was take off his jacket and drop it on the floor. In the press of the crowd like that, everyone was looking for the clothes he was wearing, especially since only a couple of us ever got a good look at his face at that moment.”
Marco rubbed a hand over his face. “So, what now? Without Dawson, we don’t have any leads on Spear.”
“We have one,” Noah said. “We know he was here at the reception. The ambassador is providing us with the entire guest list. Our quarry is somewhere on that list, and we are going to find him.”
