Agent of Influence: A Thriller

by Russell Hamilton

  He studied the four young men with stunned stares on their faces standing next to a hole where a window used to be. Snow was pelting their faces as they listened to another police officer ask them questions. After fifteen minutes of chatting with some of the other bystanders he determined there were definitely three dead men inside the motel. The ambulance in the parking lot sat waiting to take the bodies away. He heard a few of the other people in the motel say they heard shots, and one saw a Range Rover speed quickly out of the parking lot shortly after the episode. They could not be sure, but they thought the driver was a woman. Solomon flashed back to the vehicle heading the opposite way on Highway 50. He was sure it was a Range Rover. He remembered wondering what the fool was doing on the road, and the short glimpse he caught with his headlights confirmed a young teenager wearing a ball cap. Now he realized what he missed. It was not a young kid, but a female face inside the cap. Solomon glanced at his watch. By now she would be very close to the relative safety of the Reno airport.

  He silently congratulated her and accepted his own fate. Her escape was no longer a concern for him. He now had a scapegoat in Gregor who could no longer defend himself, and he wanted nothing to do with this woman right now. She was cornered and dangerous, and he was not ready to continue risking his life for Aman unless the payoff was going to be increased dramatically. He headed back up the road to where he left the truck. He would head back to Reno at his own pace, which would include a stop at the local bordello. Once he arrived back in Vegas he would give Aman an ultimatum. If he was not willing to accept it, then it would be time to make a visit to the Bank of Grand Cayman and disappear for a few months.

  ***

  Aman closed his cell phone and stared at the President-Elect with a look of annoyance. “You are your own worst enemy sometimes. The problem will not go away. She has escaped again. Solomon will be back here in a few hours to provide more details.” They were sitting at an opulent desk in Zach’s suite, going over Cabinet selections and policy strategies when Solomon called. It was past midnight, and both were exhausted and ready to finish up.

  “Sorry,” was the only reply Zach could muster.

  “You’re causing us serious problems. Solomon claims she must be a government agent. That is certainly not good, but it does provide us with an option. It’s time to have our friend in D.C. call our favorite reporter and pass along a very interesting piece of information. Let’s see how long this little investigation can last when the media get their hands on it.”

  “I don’t like it, Aman. This is one area where we don’t need the press. If some over-eager jackass starts digging he may find something.” Zach was becoming nervous for the first time as he realized she was not a stripper after all. “We need to call that strip club where she works. Find out how she got the job and where she came from,” Zach said. Now that she was an adversary and not a conquest Zach began to focus on what needed to be done to stop her.

  “I’ll have someone look into it as well but I think Solomon already has. Don’t worry about the press. It will be a targeted leak. If they are continuing to launch an investigation we can use their little political vendetta against them. Our man in D.C. has a reporter who is very sympathetic to us. We just need the story in the press. It will put some heat on whoever is looking into your affairs. Maybe it will make them think twice before putting their ass on the line.

  “You’re sure this is a good idea? I still don’t like it,” the President-Elect said.

  “It will work. I’ll ask our senator to call some hearings if things look like they may get out of hand. Enough for tonight though. Let’s get some sleep.” Aman tossed the stack of papers he was holding onto Zach’s lap before walking out of the room.

  “When are we heading back to D.C.?” Zach called out to him.

  “Tomorrow afternoon. We’ll have to finish our work there. The rest of the team headed back yesterday to work on your inauguration speech and start contacting some of the local players we’ll need on board. The campaign volunteers can clean up this place tomorrow. We can’t stay here any longer. Plus, it will look better if you are in D.C. when this story breaks, and not in this morally bankrupt city. Perception is reality in politics.” Aman stepped into the elevator and disappeared. Zach would put up a fight on some things, but one area where he trusted Aman implicitly was dealing with how things played out in the public sphere. His ability to read the mood of the nation and capitalize on it was uncanny.

  ***

  The snowstorm finally subsided as Marilyn and Alex left the outskirts of Carson City on their way towards the Reno airport. Each passing minute Marilyn became a little more confident that she was going to live through this ordeal. For the first time she began to contemplate long term strategies instead of simply focusing on her next move. Highway 395 North was completely deserted as they pulled off at the exit for the Reno airport and she stared intently in her rearview mirror, looking for any sign that she was being followed. She made an intentional wrong turn on Plumb Lane, heading towards the downtown area of Reno before doubling back to S.Virginia Street and into the airport.

  A large open field surrounded the Reno airport. She could see a few airplanes; their lights flashing on the tarmac as she approached the parking lot. At the moment she was more concerned about the Range Rover being recognized by the police than seeing Solomon or his minions. She was sure a stolen vehicle report had been called in by now, but the blizzard would have kept most patrol cars off the road. Luckily, the storm stayed strong until they reached the outskirts of Reno. She was eager to get rid of the stolen vehicle, so she floored the gas, propelling the vehicle into the covered, long-term parking area.

  Alex’s bruised face was going to attract some attention in the airport, but it could not be helped. He was sleeping soundly in the backseat. She had woken him as they drove through Carson City, and told him the quick story she had formulated about their vehicle sliding off the road. She would tell anyone that asked that Alex smacked his head on the dashboard. She finally parked the SUV, left the keys in the ignition, and shook Alex awake. She grabbed one of the bags the college kids had left inside the vehicle to help them blend in as they walked into the terminal. Two passengers with no luggage could raise some questions she preferred not to answer. The automatic doors slid open, and they crossed the threshold from the chilly night air into the cozy confines of the terminal. They simultaneously looked at each other, the pleasant surprise of still being alive evident on both their faces.

  PART II

  THE HUNT

  Chapter 25

  Marilyn felt like a sadistic mother as she closed the door, leaving Alex sound asleep in the CIA Director’s private bedroom. He protested, saying he felt fine and wanted to be a part of the discussion, but she slipped a tiny dose of the necessary concoction into his glass of water and now he was in a deep slumber. They entered the Reno airport an hour earlier and were about to make an attempt to buy two tickets when she glanced at a bank of slot machines in the terminal and saw Malcolm Ray casually dropping quarters into an Indiana Jones themed game that was blaring the famous theme song through hidden speakers.

  He smiled at her, showing his perfect set of teeth, while his bodyguard stood at attention, nervously surveying the empty airport for any signs of trouble. The fact that he only had one bodyguard with him told Marilyn that he had probably snuck out here without telling anyone. The man was breaking every rule of safety ever written, and inviting disaster for a public figure with plenty of enemies.

  It was almost two in the morning, and the airport was a veritable ghost town. Malcolm nodded to his bodyguard when they saw Marilyn, and they intercepted her before she bought a ticket for a commercial flight. She knew Malcolm would be shocked to see a stranger with her. Alex looked like he had been through the ringer. His face was badly bruised, and his eyes had the look of a hunted animal that was about to give in to his stalker if he did not quickly find sanctuary. Marilyn was not sure what to expect when she entered the
terminal, and seeing Malcolm waiting for her at a slot machine was as good as she could have hoped for.

  Now that they were safely in the air aboard his private Gulfstream G500 jet she allowed her heightened senses to relax a notch. She felt a little remorse for lying to Alex and giving him a sedative to knock him out, but it was truly a necessity. She needed to have a private discussion with Malcolm. They were passing over Missouri now, and were still a few hours away from their final destination, a CIA safe house buried in the woods of Virginia. Once at the safe house they would decide what to do with Alex. She knew they would have to let him in on some of the situation. Another person on the trail might even be helpful. The extreme sensitivity of the mission had forced them to keep the group to a bare minimum, and because of his bad luck, Alex already knew way too much for his own good.

  The cynic in her told her they would be better off if Alex had been killed, but despite the problems it would clear up she knew the thought was not something to be proud of. The previous few months spent undercover had been extremely taxing, and she felt almost like she was becoming what she despised. Alex was already about to join the CIA, and now he was going to be given a chance for the quickest promotion in the history of the agency. She reminded herself that his background and his knowledge gleaned from the trial he worked could potentially prove useful.

  “He’s asleep. Where’s your bodyguard?” Marilyn said as she walked into the main cabin of the jet, and sat down in a plush, leather chair embroidered with the CIA logo. Everything else in the cabin was stenciled with the same initials. She found it ostentatious, but that was the way the bigwigs of government traveled. One could not do anything without being reminded for whom you were doing it for. The chair swiveled, and she swung it around like a child trying to entertain herself. The playfulness only lasted a brief moment. The short time to relish her escape was over.

  “In the cockpit. He’s a trained pilot and he’s serving as the co-pilot for our little unscheduled jaunt. I needed to keep my staff on this flight to a bare minimum. Anna, you will have to forgive me, but we will have to pour our own drinks tonight. Care for some vodka?” Malcolm offered her a crystal container filled with the clear liquid. “It’s top of the line,” he added as he sipped his Perrier.

  It was the first time she had heard her real name in months, and it took her a few seconds to respond. “You never were much of a connoisseur, were you, Malcolm?” She laughed and let him pour her a glass. The biting alcohol would be the perfect elixir after the last few days. She took a long pull and let the fiery liquid roll down her throat. She felt perfectly relaxed for the first time in months.

  “Don’t get too comfortable. We’ve still got some work to do,” Malcolm said. He could see her tension melting away. The rigid lines of stress relaxed into the features of a gorgeous woman who just happened to be a spy.

  “I know, but I’ve been in the field for a few months now. Cut me some slack. How is everything in Washington?”

  “Not good. I think Bret is getting cold feet. He was convinced you were dead, and I think he has been slowly laying the groundwork so he can bail on us at the right moment. I did not tell him I was heading out here after you.” Malcolm looked out the tiny window into the black mid-western sky.

  “That doesn’t surprise me. I never trusted him.” She made eye contact with Malcolm. His face gave nothing away, but she knew he desperately wanted to ask the question.

  “Did you get it?” He finally asked. She reached into her pants and seemed to go through several layers of clothing before pulling out a cell phone and placing it on the table between them.

  “The photo is in there. The camera on that phone sucks. We will need to do some tinkering, but the tattoo was there. I was right,” she stated flatly as she downed the last of her drink and held out the tumbler for another one.

  “I knew you could do it. Let’s put this in a safe place.” He snatched it up and walked over to the onboard safe to put it away for the duration of the journey. “I just hope Sean has been able to pick up your trail in Egypt,” he said as turned the dials, waiting for the clicking sound of the safe opening.

  “Bret sent him out to Egypt?” She did not think he would risk an international incident if he thought the operation was already shot.

  “Yes. I was surprised, as well. I think he’s just covering his ass. He wants the mission to fail, but does not want to be blamed when everything collapses. I set Sean up with Colin in Cairo. Hopefully we’ll have a message from one of them when we get back.” Malcolm locked the safe and sat back down.

  “Let’s hope so. We still could be in over our heads. If Aman gets desperate he may try to sick the press on us if he thinks he can get away with it,” she responded.

  “I know. So the guy in there sleeping? Who is he?” Malcolm was running down the mental checklist of questions he had been accumulating since they took off.

  “He was part of the next class coming in to the Farm. Remember how you insisted on me training the next batch of recruits coming in? Just before this assignment was dropped on me? Well, he was going to be one of them. I was going through the list of my trainees just before we put together the final phase of this operation. I came across his name. I already thought he would be a good recruit due to his background working on the Indianapolis sleeper cell case.” Anna stopped to sip her drink.

  Malcolm crossed his legs in a relaxed manner and waited patiently for her to continue. “He noted on his application that he would be in Vegas just before the training was scheduled to begin so before I gave the list to the trainer who was going to take my place, I gave Alex a call. First, I confirmed he would be in Vegas. Then I told him we might give him a little test while he was there, and that he should be ready. A warm up so he could hit the ground running when he got to his actual training with the CIA,” Anna said. She diminutively sipped her second glass of vodka as she waited for the angry response that was sure to follow.

  “You planned on using a completely green agent for this mission?” Malcolm looked at her incredulously.

  “Come on, Malcolm. I never actually believed I would have to use him. I just wanted something to fall back on if the shit hit the fan. I was trying to be creative. Hell, I was basically trying to avoid Aman’s network and the Secret Service at the same time. I was looking for something that no one else knew about other than me. It was crazy and stupid yes, but in the end it may have saved my life. If no one else knew about him other than me, then I knew it could not be leaked. It was something I could use as a safety valve if everything fell apart. And trust me, It nearly did.” Her almond eyes pierced him.

  He tilted his water bottle towards the ceiling of the jet and took a long drink from it so as to avoid her angry stare. “I’m sorry. It’s just a crazy story. Not exactly something we would suggest to the trainees, huh?” He chuckled, and re-crossed his legs. Every time he thought she could not surprise him she came up with something new. “Anyway, try to get some sleep, Anna. I want you fresh when we get to the safe house. Have you slept at all over the last few days?”

  “A few hours.” She stretched out on the couch against the side of the plane and was soundly sleeping within a minute. Malcolm covered her with a blanket.

  Chapter 26

  Solomon stalked into the chaos of Aman’s penthouse suite and scanned the room for his boss. The room was abuzz with the constant chatter of campaign volunteers mingled with full time employees all talking on cell phones, shuffling paper, and moving about as they boxed things up. The month of planning in Las Vegas for the incoming administration was abruptly coming to an end. The campaign manager wanted everyone back in Washington D.C. within the next few days. Why they were leaving a week early, no one knew, but the typical rumors were circulating. The employee gossip continued as they put together reams of policy papers, suggestions for the few remaining cabinet posts, and everything from the first executive orders he would be signing to potential judges to fill vacancies that were upcoming in the courts.<
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  Solomon ignored the young college students who seemed to constantly be cutting across his path. He meticulously searched the suite, peering into every room as he looked for Aman. The constant noise was irritating. These kids are all a bunch of idiots, he thought to himself. They were all foolish idealists, and young enough to believe that the administration they had fought to get elected was going to change the world. If he were not so annoyed with his boss at the current moment he would have laughed at their naivety. In six months most of them would either be fired or quietly told their services were no longer needed.

  He was about to dial his cell phone and curse Aman when the old Egyptian appeared from the cavernous closet just off the master bedroom. He acknowledged Solomon with a brief glance while he handed a stack of ruffled papers to a girl who could not have been older than nineteen, whispering instructions to her and sending her on her way. He motioned for Solomon to follow him into the closet, closing and locking the door behind them. It was a closet in name only. Over a thousand square feet, it was larger than many of the homes that were sprouting up around the city of Las Vegas every few days like the weed that you can never quite kill. Empty boxes were strewn around the floor, and a few expensive suits were still on hangers scattered throughout several different areas of the closet. Sensing Solomon’s unease, Aman spoke first.

  “The room is soundproof. Nothing to worry about. All of them are too focused on the next great President heading to the White House anyways,” he said as he dismissively motioned to the door and the volunteers behind it.