by JB Sanders
“It wasn’t?” The younger man blinked. “What is it about?”
Tyler brought his hands together, and looked around at the three men. “This has always been about finding out who leaked the names of agents operating in the field undercover, and specifically who leaked the name of Tom Stewart.”
“Who was killed.” Crichton said coldly.
Tyler hopped up, and started pacing around the table, gesturing as he talked. “Two things came immediately to mind when I was asked to rescue the remaining field agent. First, who knew Crichton and Stewart were in the field? That’s got to be a pretty short list, obviously, and when you have a short list, figuring out who was behind the leak should have been fairly easy. But there wasn’t anything official going on. It wasn’t being handled by senior agents, or even investigators from some other agency — it was farmed out to me. That’s the second, and much bigger question: why me?”
“Neutral party?” Said the remaining suit, a bland middle-aged man in his 40s. He wore glasses that gave him an intelligent air, even if they were a little hip for Glen’s taste.
“Sure, that sounds good. It’s even plausible. But it doesn’t go far enough. I’ll get back to that point. First, let’s take a look at the suspects.”
James tossed Tyler a remote, and Tyler pressed a button. A screen descended from the ceiling opposite the doors, and a projector came to life. On it was an organizational chart with a lot of pictures. The faces of the three men could be seen on the chart.
“Here we have the CIA’s org chart, only showing those people with enough clearance to have either electronic or physical access to the relevant files.”
Demming choked. “Where did you get that?!”
Tyler waved a hand negligently. “You know, from people. If we’re going to get through this in time for the limbo competition, you’re going to have to hold your questions until the end, Mr. Demming. Ok, let’s eliminate the people who were on vacation, leave, or in the field when the assignment was drawn up, and are still away.” Tyler pressed another button. Faces vanished from the screen. “That still leaves us with twenty people. Not a huge number to investigate, but still too many for our purposes. So on a hunch, I had Excalibur—“
“—Your own personal spy organization?” Demming said acidly.
“Sure. I had Excalibur look for a connection between one of those twenty people and the Paris blowhards.” Tyler frowned and made a swirly gesture at his own head. “Those guys are seriously cracked, by the way.”
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid you’ve lost me.” The man in the hip glasses looked confused.
Everyone at the table looked at him in disbelief.
Tony got his feet under him first. “Have you been living under a rock?” He pointed at Tyler. “This guy broke an international conspiracy that’s been brewing since the fall of the Third Reich. A bunch of fascists made a play to take over the world, on the quiet.”
Hip Glasses looked surprised. “Really?”
Demming sighed.
Hip glasses pursed his lips in annoyance. “Look, I’ve been in a closed-door analysis session about Russia for four weeks. Other than news about Russia, and some about the Middle East, I haven’t seen anything.”
Tyler nodded. “Yup, I know. Not that I’m privy to your conclusions, but from what we’ve been able to gather about the confab, you folks weren’t physically restricted, and had full access to CIA mainframes during that time. So, unfortunately, that didn’t automatically eliminate you.” Tyler pressed a button, and all the photos vanished except those of the three men in the room. “What we did find was that each of you has a connection, however tenuous, to one of the five King’s Club shit heads.”
Each of the three men appeared to be surprised by this. Glen was watching, but didn’t spot a false note. He wouldn’t have expected any different from CIA agents, especially ones as senior as these guys.
Demming stood up. “That’s ridiculous!”
Tyler rolled his eyes. “You spend two weeks every year at a chalet in the French alps, that just so happens to be right next door to monsieur Alain Rast’s estate. The same Alain Rast who is the French financier of the King’s Club.”
“That’s a family home. It was my grandmother’s house.”
“Exactly. So you and Rast have a very long-standing family tie, at least in geography. But we’re getting pretty far afield, here. Take my word for it, we found a link to each of you. So for the three of you, we did the full background dossier.”
“Should we be impressed?” The guy with Hip Glasses waved a hand. “Each of us has a very high security clearance. They do extremely extensive background checks on us — months, years in the making. Your people have had what, a week?”
Tyler smiled in a way that sharks eyeing a particularly juicy whale get. “Oh, that was more than enough time. First, we had access to the full background checks the FBI and the CIA already conducted on you, so we didn’t have to redo all that groundwork. Second, we didn’t just check you, your friends, and your family, we checked out your neighbors, too. And third — third, we have access to some sources of information that the CIA just doesn’t.”
All three men, and Tony, looked doubtful at this pronouncement.
Tony shook his head. “What ‘source’ could you possibly have that the CIA doesn’t already talk to, bug, or intercept?”
“Well, when we faxed—“
“Faxed??” Demming gaped.
“They’re a little old-fashioned about some things. When we faxed some friends — uh, enemies, really — of ours pictures of each of you, we got a really interesting response.” Tyler clicked his remote again.
The picture of Hip Glasses Guy was alone on the screen.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“That’s preposterous. You’re accusing me of treason on the word of Russian criminals?” The man sneered.
The rest of the room stilled.
“He didn’t say anything about Russian criminals, Joseph.” Demming spoke quietly but with enough menace to fell a steer.
Joseph with the Hip Glasses quite casually took an automatic pistol from his pocket and pointed it at Glen.
“I think everyone should stay right where they are, hands away from their guns.” Joseph rose slowly from his chair, the gun never wavering from Glen’s chest. “I’ll be leaving now and I’m taking this guy with me.”
The security guys froze, their hands away from their bodies. Tony, Demming, and the young agent were very carefully not moving.
Tyler’s expression had become remote. “No.”
Joseph eyed him. “No? You’re happy to throw away your husband’s life? I’m leaving, taking him with me and using your helicopter. Make it ready. By this time tomorrow, I’ll have vanished and your little operation will have failed.”
Tyler shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve rescued the agent, found the mole, and delivered my report. My part in this is done.”
Joseph blinked.
Without moving his hands, Tyler clicked on the remote, and the screen changed to a live video feed. On it was the President of the United States in front of a presidential seal, location unknown.
“Put down the gun, Agent O’Connor. This is over.” The President said.
O’Connor turned the gun to Tyler, anger distorting his face, and pulled the trigger.
The bang was loud in the enclosed room, even with all the sound baffling.
Tyler sighed. “Also, you’re an idiot.”
The security guys jumped O’Connor and after an intense struggle, subdued him.
“What the devil was that?” Demming looked between where O’Connor had been standing and Tyler, who was completely unharmed.
“There was no way I was going to let him get anywhere near a gun with bullets in it. The only place O’Connor was going to have a chance to help himself to a gun was on the marine helicopter coming here. I made sure the marines loaded all their handguns with blanks.” Tyler shrugged. “Anything larger
he wouldn’t have been able to conceal.”
“Fine work, Mr. Conrad. You have the thanks of a weary nation.” The President nodded at Tyler.
Tyler nodded back. “Happy to oblige, Mr. President.”
Lei on the Luau
“You certainly have an eclectic mix of party guests.” Bertie sipped his properly made Dark & Stormy, in a tumbler instead of a martini glass.
“We do.” Glen looked around at the crowd on the beach. “It’s made up of our folks in Excalibur, the marine contingent, that CIA guy who wasn’t a … wasn’t otherwise occupied, our security team, and you.”
“Hmm, yes, well, and I expect that gentlemen over there,” Bertie indicated a stocky man in a loud Hawaiian shirt, and subdued Bermuda shorts who was lingering near a palm tree. “Is one of mine.”
“Yours?”
“One of the joys of the Royal lineage, there’s always someone hanging about keeping an eye on you. Sometimes it’s comforting, sometimes I would gladly give it all up for a normal shop assistant kind of life.”
Glen snorted. “Believe me, the shop assistant life doesn’t have a lot to recommend it.” Glen looked over at Tyler, enthusiastically shaking his booty under the limbo stick. “Though I have to admit I sometimes think about the cottage with the picket fence and an everyday sort of life for two.”
Bertie smiled a little sadly and shook his head. “We’re both deluding ourselves, you know. For one, there’s no way Tyler could ever be considered everyday, even without his fortune. Nor you, for that matter.” Bertie sighed. “For another, we’re the kind of men who would be bored silly in a life like that. We’re … hmmm, in another time, I’d say that we’re men of action, but that seems so old fashioned nowadays.”
Glen sipped his own drink thoughtfully. “I like to think that we’re men who can’t stand aside when there’s important work to be done.”
Bertie’s face lit up. “Exactly! Thank you. I will use that on my relatives when they ask why I galavant about.”
Tyler came up, flushed with excitement. “I won!”
“Well, I guess those repeated games of Twister have been good for something.” Glen handed his drink to Tyler, his tone dry and not a little salacious.
Tyler took a large draught, trying to hide his obvious embarrassment.
Bertie just snorted.
“When do you have to go back?” Glen said quietly.
Bertie sighed. “Soon. My official Navy tour ends in a month. I have scheduled obligations after that. No way around those.”
“Well, we’ll have you for a week, at least, verifying the results of the test of the Equipment.” Tyler beamed.
“Yes, thank you for that. I do enjoy your company, although the luau will not endear me to my shipmates.”
Tyler shrugged. “The party can’t be helped, but you will have to write up a detailed report about the Equipment. And you’ll have to brief some admirals when you get back to land.”
“Oh, that’s jolly. Those men tend to be more stuffy than my relatives. And dogged about their own little topics. Ugh. Admirals.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Bertie. You could charm the pants off a bishop.”
Bertie winced. “Not something I have any interest in, thank you very much. Have you met a bishop?” He shuddered.
“You could charm the pants off a rugby team?” Tyler smirked.
“Now we’re talking.”
***
Glen ran into Rosa and Genevieve conferring next to the rum punch.
“Curried couscous in Kabul.” Rosa sipped her drink.
“Mmm, how about goat kebab in Baghdad?” Genevieve replied.
Glen blinked. “What’s the topic and can anyone play?”
Rosa smiled at him. “We’re comparing the best dishes we’ve had in the most dangerous places. We started with street food in the Bronx, apparently we both know people there, and worked our way up. I’m not sure who has the higher score at this point. Was it the Green Zone part of Baghdad?”
Genevieve shook her head. “No. Al-Saydiya.”
Rosa frowned. “You’re kidding. What the hell were you doing there? That might as well be called the Red Zone.”
Genevieve shrugged. “Treating wounded. Once we were done, the local cafe offered us food.”
Rosa frowned. “Damn. Well, I guess I’ll have to pull out my ace. My grandmother’s tamales, Detroit.”
Genevieve raised her eyebrows. “Detroit?”
“My grandmother’s house is on a block with two others, where there used to be fifty. She has six handguns, a shotgun, a dog, and the best electronic security system I could get installed. I had to pay the contractor a combat bonus because they were shot at, twice.”
Genevieve chuckled a little grimly. “Let me guess what she said when you suggested she move.”
Rosa shook her head back in forth. “Not in polite company,” Rosa jerked her head at Glen. “He has sensitive ears.”
“Hey!” Glen said.
“You do, I’ve heard you swear. It’s like what I imagine a knitting circle sounds like when one of them forgets there’s a pin cushion in their chair.” Rosa sipped her drink again, licking her lips. “So, out with it, Glen, what’s your best dangerous meal?”
Glen shrugged. “I can’t compete with you two. The most dangerous meal I think we’ve had was Russian tea at a cafe in Moscow.”
“That … doesn’t sound very dangerous.” Genevieve said, expecting a trap.
Glen smiled much like Tyler would have. “Well, it’s a cafe owned by the most notorious and feared gangsters in Europe. But the tea was exceptional.”
***
Tucker had backed Jeremy and Charlie into a corner, talking their ears off, when Glen and Tyler ran into them at the house. They were in the kitchen eating off a food tray which obviously had not made it out to the party.
“So I said to him ‘who do you think programs these things?’, and he laughed. I slipped it into his pocket while his eyes were closed.” Tucker mimed the drop.
Charlie laughed. Jeremy shot Tyler a ‘help me!’ look.
“Hey, Tucker. Could we borrow Jeremy and Charlie for a moment. Brother stuff.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you guys outside.” Tucker waved, smiled, and went out to the beach.
Once he was out of earshot, Jeremy sighed. “Oh dear god, thank you, Tyler. That man might be a great analyst, but he’s a boor at a party.”
Charlie snorted. “No, he’s pretty much that way all the time. Damned good at his job, but always going for the one-upmanship.”
There was an awkward pause. Everyone eyed each other.
Glen sighed and rolled his eyes. “You two.” He put an arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “What do you guys have planned after this?”
Charlie looked uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his own head. “I uh, well, I’ll have to check in and see if I still have a job.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that, though if the idiots do fire you, Excalibur is always hiring.” Tyler shrugged. “If you don’t mind working for your, er, me.”
Glen did his best to keep the smile off his face. He was pretty sure Tyler had almost said “brother-in-law”.
“Thanks. Sorry for all the…” Charlie waved a hand around.
“Don’t worry about it. I can see why you thought that. And I do try to play up the shady aspects of my reputation in certain circles.”
Jeremy snorted. “Bite you on the ass yet?”
Tyler just smirked and waved at Charlie. “Yup.”
Jeremy sipped his drink. Glen wasn’t entirely sure how Jeremy always seemed to have a cocktail in his hand, but never seemed to be drunk. Maybe, Glen thought, it was always the same cocktail.
Jeremy grinned. “What are you two doing next? Going to take down an evil government for your next trick? That’s the next thing up the power scale, right?”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Glen said, wincing. “I can’t imagine how much trouble that would be.”
“With the right team—“ Charlie said at the same time.
They stopped and grinned at each other.
Glen and Jeremy both pointed at their guy and said “No!”
Charlie and Tyler chuckled.
Tyler moved into the kitchen, and snagged a bite of food himself. “No, but really, we’re going to quietly retire after this. Grow flowers or something.”
Jeremy made a “pfft!” noise. “Bullshit. You might move somewhere quiet but it’s not going to stay that way for long. Even if there’s isn’t local trouble, I’m sure you’ll find something broken to fix.”
“Ha, true.” Tyler popped some coconut shrimp in his mouth and chewed. “But really, we plan on trying to be more low key for a while. You know, take some time off.”
“But initially, we’re going to the island and spend some time with Nanna.”
Jeremy grimaced slightly. “Yeah, I should do that, too. I probably gave her a fit running off like that.”
“You could say that.” Tyler pointed at Jeremy. “I’ll do my best to keep in her firing line when you first get back but she’s going to do something. Remember the last time you worried her?”
Jeremy blanched. “I apologized. All summer long! I personally manured all her rose bushes!”
“Manured?” Charlie looked confused.
“Fertilized with manure. It was ninety degrees in the shade and I was shoveling shit all day. While she watched from inside the house. I swear, if she thought she could have gotten away with a shock collar…” Jeremy shuddered.
“I definitely have to meet this woman. She sounds worse than my gram-gram.” Charlie said cheerfully.
Tyler’s face lit up and he mouthed “gram-gram” at Glen.
Jeremy pursed his lips at Charlie. “Seriously? Unless your ‘gram-gram’ was in Mossad or something, call me when your grandmother is scarier than any well-armed marine.”
Charlie went still for a moment and then smiled in a way that made Glen think he was trying not to laugh out loud. Charlie took Jeremy’s hand like he was going to break terrible news to him and wanted to soften the blow. “My gram-gram was in Mossad.”
