The Ajax Protocol (The Project)

by Lukeman, Alex

"What island?" Nick asked. "You never said anything about an island."

  "Uncle William owned a private island in the Caribbean. It's not far from St. Lucia. He left it to me when he died. It's got everything we need, a large house, an airstrip, privacy. No one is going to look for us there."

  Selena's uncle had been a rich man. It was his death that had brought Selena to the Project. When he died, some of his fortune had gone to charity. Some had been seized by foreign governments where he had held investments. Some of it had been embezzled. What was left went to Selena. She had arranged for half of it to act as ongoing investment funding for several charities. The other half was more than enough to keep her in luxury for the rest of her life.

  "An island in the Caribbean." Elizabeth looked at her. "You never cease to surprise me, Selena. I don't think they'll expect us to do something like that."

  "That's a great idea," Stephanie said. "At the least, it will give us some breathing room to figure out what to do next."

  Lamont stroked Burps and was rewarded with a rumbling bass.

  "How are we going to get there?" Ronnie asked. "We can't use our plane. They'll be watching that. We can't book a commercial flight."

  Selena said, "They can't watch everything, not so soon. I know a pilot who operates a Gulfstream charter out of a private airport near Roanoke. My uncle used him all the time. He knows me, there won't be any credit checks or questions. He can fly us to the island. The airstrip there can handle a Gulfstream."

  "I like it," Elizabeth said. "Call him."

  They left Burps at a boarding house for cats. A few hours later, they were on their way to the Caribbean. Five hours after that, they were coming in for an approach on Selena's island. Below the wings of the Gulfstream, sunlight sparkled off the waters of the Caribbean. The ocean looked blue and inviting. A band of luminous, turquoise water stretched away from a narrow beach of white sand. Palm trees lined the shore, at the fringe of a dense thicket of jungle.

  The southern end of the island featured a steep volcanic peak, covered with trees and thick green foliage. From the air, the island looked like a misshapen boot with the mountain forming the toe. Halfway up the east side of the boot, a small bay with a long wooden pier extended out into the water. A medium-sized fishing boat was docked next to the pier. At the top of the boot a large, square house with white walls and a red tile roof sat on a high promontory that looked out over the water. Beyond the house, the land fell away in a sheer cliff hundreds of feet high. Waves crashed against black rocks below. A second house, smaller than the first, sat away from the main building at the edge of the uncleared jungle.

  A single runway of concrete formed the airstrip. A hangar was situated at one end of the runway. They circled the island once and landed. The Gulfstream taxied toward the hangar.

  They stepped from the plane into the warm, humid air of the Windward Islands. The air smelled of salt and an explosion of green things growing.

  "Welcome to St. Jeanne Island," Selena said.

  Nick saw a white SUV coming toward them. "That will be Emile," Selena said. "He's been the caretaker here since before I was born. Let me take care of the plane and then we'll all go up to the house."

  They walked over to the shade of the hanger. Selena had a brief conversation with the pilot and came over to join them. The pilot got back into the Gulfstream. In a moment the engines came alive and the plane turned to face the far end of the runway. They watched the Gulfstream accelerate down the strip and lift into the air.

  Nick turned to Selena. "Just what I'd always dreamed of," he said. "Stranded on a tropical island with you. Only I didn't imagine we'd be here with anyone else."

  She laughed. It broke the tension.

  The SUV pulled up next to them. The man who got out of the vehicle was weathered with a lifetime under the Caribbean sun. It was impossible to tell how old he was. He looked like a man who had worked every day of his life. He wore a khaki colored, short sleeved shirt and trousers cut off below the knees. Well-worn brown boots protected his feet. His skin was walnut brown. He was about five feet nine inches tall, wiry and taut. The muscles on his arms and legs stood out like knotted cords under the skin.

  His face broke into a grin. "Miss Selena," he said, "it has been too long since you have visited."

  "Hello, Emile. It's good to see you."

  "But now you are here. Things in the big house are ready for your stay. You will be here long?"

  "I'm not sure. Emile, these are my friends. We all work together."

  Selena made the introductions.

  "Let's go up to the house," she said.

  They piled into Emile's truck and followed a gravel drive from the airstrip to the top of the promontory and the house. The house was built of whitewashed stone, two stories high. A wide, shaded veranda with a sloping, tiled roof ran around the bottom of the structure. Wicker furniture with flowered cushions offered places to sit. Tall windows with wooden storm shutters painted green lined the front of the building. The view from the veranda took in the entire island and the Caribbean beyond.

  Inside, the house was cool and quiet. Wooden ceiling fans turned slowly overhead. A gentle breeze coming through the open windows brought the sweet perfume of tropical flowers and honeysuckle. The floors were made of dark, polished wood, cut in wide boards. A wide, wooden staircase led up to a balcony and the second floor.

  "There are six rooms on the second floor," Selena said. "Mine is the one in the front on the left. Take any of the others you like."

  "Get settled in and we'll meet down here in 30 minutes," Elizabeth said. "We need to do some serious planning."

  "Director," Selena said, "I need to talk with you about something."

  Elizabeth was about to ask if it could wait until later. Then she saw the stress in Selena's face.

  "What is it, Selena?"

  "Let's sit outside."

  They moved onto the porch and sat down.

  "Adam gave Nick a file," Selena said. "You need to know what was in it. I was going to tell you when we got back from London but there hasn't been a good opportunity until now. "

  Elizabeth gave her a curious look. "What file?"

  Selena told Elizabeth about the CIA file and the accusations against her father. When she was done, Elizabeth sat without saying anything for what seemed like a long time.

  "Why didn't you tell me before?" she said.

  Selena took a deep breath. "I was afraid you'd throw me off the team. If my father was a traitor, you might think I was a security risk."

  "Selena, you're not your father."

  "That's what Nick said."

  "You don't think the file is true." It was a statement, not a question.

  "No, I don't. My father was an honorable man. He would never have betrayed his country. I think it was a CIA op that went wrong and somebody covered it up."

  "You should've come to me sooner," Elizabeth said.

  "I know. I'm sorry." Selena's eyes glistened. Elizabeth reached out and took her hand.

  "There's nothing to be sorry about. It can't have been easy for you to find that out. How can I help?"

  "Knowing that the people who killed my family may still be out there keeps me awake at night. I want to get into the KGB files and track down who it was. Stephanie can do that, but I need your permission."

  "A lot of those files are available for anyone to study," Elizabeth said. "The really sensitive stuff has all been transferred to computers. If we hack into those, we're risking a major incident."

  "I know that." Selena waited.

  "What will you do if you find out the assassin is still alive?"

  "I don't know. I just know that it's important to find out what happened."

  Elizabeth looked out over the Caribbean. In the distance, the white sail of a private yacht cut across the deep blue of the sea.

  "Let me think about it," Elizabeth said.

  CHAPTER 36

  The next day General Westlake and Senator Martinez were havin
g drinks in the Senator's club in Washington. The club was designed for private conversations, with discrete groupings of high-back chairs and low tables. The politicians, lobbyists and money men all needed a place that was private and convenient to the Capitol building. If you had the money, the power and the connections, you might be invited to join.

  "What the hell happened?" Martinez said. "How did they get away?"

  "Someone tipped them off," Westlake said. "The place was locked down and no one was there. They chartered a plane to a private island in the Caribbean," Westlake picked up a glass of single malt and took a long drink. "I had the pilot taken into custody."

  "Those people are a real pain in the ass. They know too much."

  "I've arranged for a team to eliminate them. They'll go in tomorrow night."

  "Good."

  Westlake said, "Edmonds is an idiot."

  "It wasn't Edmonds' fault," Martinez said. "He's been a good boy. He's doing exactly what we want him to do."

  "And he'd better continue to do it, if he knows what's good for him."

  "He wants to be President."

  "He can be President," Westlake said. "We need a figurehead."

  "There's still Rice," Martinez said. "Still alive."

  "That is one tough son of a bitch," Westlake said. "He'll have an unfortunate relapse when it's time to make Edmonds official. Which will be soon."

  Martinez said, "What is your assessment of cooperation from local commanders once we begin?"

  Westlake toyed with his drink. "I've thought about that a lot. In the beginning it won't be a problem. They'll be responding to tactical situations on the ground, not thinking about national implications. That's not their job. They're trained to follow orders, and they will. Morgan is with us."

  General Jeffrey Morgan commanded NORTHCOM, the Northern Army Command. All Army troops in North America were under his jurisdiction. They would be deployed as he saw fit.

  "What about after, when the initial rioting has died down?"

  "The key to winning the junior officers over is to convince them that they're dealing with an ongoing violent revolution, an attempt to overthrow the government."

  "There could be some that see through what is happening."

  "If any of them make trouble they'll be relieved of command," Westlake said. "They've all sworn an oath to protect the Constitution and the President, and they'll be acting under Presidential orders. Refusal to follow orders is a court-martial offense."

  Westlake emptied his glass and signaled for another round. "I don't think it's going to be much of a problem," he said. "In fact, the civilians will probably solve it for us."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The diehards aren't going to turn in their guns no matter what we say," Westlake said. "Enough of them will think they can take on the Army with their hunting rifles to give us plenty of incidents we can use to prove someone is inciting revolution."

  The drinks came. Westlake picked up his glass.

  "The joint exercise with Homeland Security is set. We'll begin the operation in a week."

  CHAPTER 37

  The team gathered on the shaded veranda of the island house. Selena had put together plates of fruit, cheese and crackers. There was a large pitcher of iced tea. A tropical breeze made it feel as if they had escaped to a vacation paradise, but no one was under the illusion this was a vacation.

  "Whoever is behind this has some serious clout," Elizabeth said. "Someone convinced Edmonds we were a threat."

  "Edmonds must be in on it," Nick said. "Part of the plot."

  "It looks that way. He may be a dupe. It doesn't really matter at this point. The question is, what do we do now?"

  "Our tactical situation isn't good," Nick said. "Homeland Security has probably put our names and pictures on every computer that matters. We're isolated."

  "Sooner or later, whoever is calling the shots is going to find out where we are," Harker said.

  "How are we fixed for weapons?" Lamont asked. "I've got my Sig and two magazines."

  Stephanie looked embarrassed. "I know we're supposed to carry them all the time," she said, "but mine is back on my desk in Virginia."

  "Don't feel bad, Steph," Harker said. "So is mine."

  "Selena, Ronnie and I have our pistols," Nick said.

  "I know Emile has a 12 gauge shotgun and a .22 rifle," Selena said. "It's not a lot of firepower, but it's something."

  "Oh that's great," Lamont said. "We can do a lot of damage with those."

  "Just trying to help," Selena said. She looked annoyed.

  "Let's focus," Harker said.

  "I grew up on a farm in Kansas," Stephanie said. "I'm good with a .22, we had to keep the gophers down."

  "Okay," Nick said. "You take the .22. Director, you get the shotgun."

  "Emile will know what kind of supplies are on the island," Selena said. "There may be something we can use. I'll talk with him after we're done here."

  "Stephanie, can you link into our computers in Virginia?" Elizabeth asked.

  "We have the satellite uplink and I have my laptop. Unless they shut everything down, I can access them. The sat link is encrypted, they won't be able to trace it."

  "I want you to look for whoever is behind this. I don't know what the timetable is, but it feels like it's set to happen soon."

  "I might be able to trace the signal that went to Alaska back to its original source," Stephanie said, "the one that was supposed to trigger the attack on Riyadh. If I can do that, we'll know where their home base is located."

  Nick said, "Director, even if we do find out where they are, we still have to get off this island and back into the country without getting arrested."

  "The pilot will come pick us up," Selena said.

  "That's fine if he can do it," Nick said. "What if he can't? We need an alternate plan."

  "We could get to one of the bigger islands like Barbados and rent a plane," Selena said.

  "That might not be a good idea. We need to assume Interpol is looking for us along with everyone else."

  "I saw a boat docked in the bay when we were flying in," Lamont said. "It looked big enough to get us to the mainland. There are plenty of places along the coast where we could put in without being noticed."

  "If we can get past the Coast Guard," Ronnie said.

  "We'll worry about that if we need to," Elizabeth said. "We're not going anywhere until we find out more about what's happening."

  "We should clue Emile in," Lamont said. "If things get dicey, he could get caught in the crossfire."

  "I can do that," Selena said. "Don't underestimate Emile. He's one of the most resourceful men I've ever met."

  "All right," Harker said. "Selena, you brief Emile. Find out if there's anything we can use for weapons."

  "You mean things that go boom?" Lamont asked.

  Elizabeth smiled. "That, and anything else that might help. Nick and Ronnie, once we have an inventory see what you can put together. Lamont, you go take a look at that boat and see if it will serve."

  Lamont coughed. "Roger that," he said.

  "Any questions?" Elizabeth asked.

  "Yeah," Ronnie said. "What's for dinner?"

  CHAPTER 38

  Nick and Selena lay in a tangle of sheets looking out through the tall windows of Selena's bedroom, open to the warm, tropical night. The room was in the front of the house. Nick could see the dark shape of the extinct volcano rising at the other end of the island. Sheer white curtains around the windows fluttered in a light breeze. The moon was up, shedding a pale silver glow over the dark jungle interior of the island. Two tall palm trees formed silhouettes against the starlit sky outside the window. The room was warm after the heat of the day. It smelled of sex and sweat and Selena's perfume.

  Selena nestled against him. She ran her fingers over the ridges of scar tissue on his body, where shrapnel from the grenade had torn into his side.

  "It looks like a romantic postcard," Nick said.

 
; "What does?"

  He gestured at the open window. "That. The moon, the palm trees. All that's missing is violins playing somewhere in the background."

  She laughed. "Postcards don't play music."

  "Some do. You know, Happy Birthday, John Philip Sousa, things like that."

  "I don't think Sousa is quite the right mood," she said.

  She moved her hand across his chest, feeling the solid muscle underneath, the puckered scar on his shoulder. "I wish this could last forever," she said.

  He almost said nothing ever does but caught himself in time.

  He buried his face in her hair. "Mmm," he said. "You smell good."

  "Passion flower shampoo," she said. "It's supposed to drive men wild."

  "I am man, I am wild," he said. "You have driven me there. Now I must ravish you."

  She laughed. "You sound like a bad line in a pirate movie."

  "Isn't that what wild men do?"

  "What?"

  "Ravish. You know." He leered at her and pretended to stroke a mustache.

  "I think you must read romance novels when nobody's looking," she said. "Nobody says ravish anymore."

  "When I was a kid, I heard an actor say ravish in a movie. I thought he said radish. I couldn't figure out what he meant."

  She began laughing. He grinned at her, pleased.

  After she'd stopped laughing she was quiet, suddenly serious.

  "Don't you get tired of this?" she said. "Doing what we do?"

  "I don't know if tired is the right word. Look at what we deal with. People who don't care about anything except power and control, who'll do anything to get what they want. I don't get tired of trying to stop people like that."

  "It seems like there are always people like that," she said.

  She got up out of bed and walked naked to the window. Nick looked at the way the moonlight fell over her body, the way it made shadows under her breasts, the curve of her buttocks. He could make out the thin scar near her spine where the doctors had operated after she'd been shot in Mexico. There was something otherworldly about the way she looked in the moonlight, like a visitor from some magical realm. He felt his heart skip a beat.