It is ferociously bright sunlight, and sizzling hot by the time we made it to Bel Abbes. We don’t see too much of the city, more just the highway system and the roads leading to the airport. Frankly it’s just fine with us as we are worn out. Well, Frosty and I are done like dinner from our clandestine activities, and from alternating shifts wrestling the MAN beast truck back out of the desert. The MAN has been a very solid ride and I have a lot of respect for the truck and its capabilities. I certainly would not hesitate to use one again. In addition I can see significant advantages over the semis built in North America, particularly in the suspension system. All eight wheels on the MAN are independently articulated for a very controlled, smooth ride, with ridiculous off road traction capability.
“It stinks here!” announced Frosty.
He is slumped in the passenger seat smoking his umpteenth cigarette of the day.
“Not as bad as the port at Rabat, but it still stinks.” says Frosty.
“Poor sanitation, I suppose,” I mutter, as I wrestle the truck around a corner as we close in on the airport.
“It’s amazing more people don’t die than what do given the sanitation issues.” replies Frosty.
“But how do we know, or anyone know, how many actually do die here from sanitation issues?” I ask.
“Well that’s true as there are very poor public records, along with the poor infrastructure and associated services.” agrees Frosty.
“Did you know close to five million people die per year worldwide from poor sanitation and polluted water? I ask Frosty.
“Oh be serious,” mutters Frosty.
“I shit you not boss, some five million people.” I confirm. “Five million fucking people!”
“And you know this because...?” asks Frosty.
“Saw a television documentary on Dean Kamen and his Clean Water Machine.” I reply.
“Who the hell is Dean Kamen?” asks Frosty idly.
“Know what a Segway is?” I ask.
“Yup, the two wheeled balancing thingy,” replies Frosty.
“Then you know who Dean Kamen is.” I say. “Know what else?”
“No, but you are gonna tell me aren’t ya?” yawns Frosty.
“Yup, Kamen could not find a distribution system for his clean water machines worldwide. Isn’t that a bastard? I ask.
“So he invented a clean water machine but couldn’t get it to those who need it?” asks Frosty.
“Exactly, Coca Cola Corporation finally stepped up and agreed to help him with distribution worldwide.” I reply.
“Why Coke?” asks Frosty
“They needed a source of guaranteed clean fresh water to mix into the syrup to make coke. Apparently some remote poverty stricken countries revolted and burned the Coke facilities as the water they had been using in the Coke was polluted.” I say.
“For fuck sakes,” mutters Frosty.
“I hate to interrupt your fascinating conversation boys”, says D. “But drive up beside that transport truck over on your right and let’s get these arrangements finalized to get airborne and out of here. We have places to be and things to do!”
Despite the stink of the place, and despite what we might think of the capabilities of the infrastructure and perhaps of the seemingly semi-hysterical people of Sidi Bel Abbes, they prove to be particularly efficient and straight forward in confirming the air cargo reservations. There is a Russian cargo plane which has room for us, and D with her sea-can. In short order D is winched aboard the drop down loading ramp, secured to the floor locks, and Frosty and I drag in our bags and flop into a couple of the troop carrying net seats. It seems like we were asleep as soon as the tail ramp is closed and we begin to taxi. D is busy learning everything there is to know about the workings of the Tupolev Russian cargo plane. No doubt within the hour she could take control and fly the damn thing complete with landing in France. Frosty and I could care less, we sleep!
Chapter 18: France
After careful consideration we select to fly into the Paris Beauvais Tille airport. It’s an old airport built in the 30’s and used by both German and Americans during the Second World War. The proximity to Paris and ease of use as a smaller airport made it look very attractive for our purposes. That we needed to rent a semi to transport D and her sea-can some 80 kilometers to Paris is of little consequence to us. In fact it’s an advantage as depending on what area of Paris we need to get close to we can park the semi in a truck stop on the outer area of Paris and use the quad copter at night to slip in and out of the required location.
“We have a slight complication boys”, says D.
“Do I want to know how bad a complication?” asks Frosty.
“The French have found out an out of country Operative is going to be hitting some high ranking terrorist targets. And we are the “Operative” in question.” replies D. “Of course they have no idea who we are.”
“Jesus, how in the fuck did this come to light?” I curse.
“Likely the same way we find out the intelligence we use, by monitoring so called secure channels and knowing what to look for and an awful lot of luck on their part.” says D.
“We shouldn’t feel too bad as the French DRM and COS are arguably some of the very best intelligence gathering agencies in the world.” says Frosty.
“Are we compromised and do we to have to disappear?” I ask.
“Not at this time, they have no idea of the Operative, but they have a sense of the targets.” says D.
“So there is going to be extra eyes watching everything about the targets?” I ask.
“Yup, that’s a logical assessment.” says D. “They will likely employ sat recon along with conventional means. But they have no idea on our cloaking ability or the quad copter. So they don’t know what to look for. And even if they did they could not see us. You can’t catch what you can’t see.”
“Can we renegotiate our price in view of the suspicions of the French authorities?” I ask.
“Not a chance.” says D.
Chapter 19: Scania
We look around as best we can in the time frame available but we fail to find a MAN semi-tractor to pull the flatbed trailer D is resting on. The local truckers recommend a Scania semi-tractor unit with a sleeper unit as a very good choice, and although we have little experience with the Swedish made truck we decide to accept the expertise of the locals.
The unit is tall, shiny, and has enough lights on the front to illuminate a football field. It’s a cab over design which is not seen much in North America, whereby the driver, passenger and sleeper sit above the engine and over the front wheels, thereby making the cab a long way off the ground. Sure seemed like climbing up a step ladder to get to the door. This style of truck is popular in Europe as it keeps the overall length of the semi-tractor as short as possible and highly maneuverable.
Once inside the cab is very well appointed with generous leather, attention to detail, good lighting, and fine instrumentation. Visibility is magnificent sitting so high and of course there is no hood line out front at all. The sleeper is roomy with small lavatory, microwave, fridge, TV with DVD player, and computer with USB memory stick input. And naturally a very generous sized bed. The best part is you can stand up in the sleeper to dress and undress. Frosty runs a thick bundle of cables from D’s sea can on the flatbed trailer to the cab and hooks up the various cameras and monitors and we are good to go.
Oh, and did I mention this thing is almost a sports car out on the highway. With over five hundred horsepower from a V8 diesel engine, coupled to a twelve speed auto-shift transmission, driving this thing is next to a Corvette experience. Merging into traffic is an opportunity to see and feel what this wonderful truck can do when turned loose, and let me tell you it is very impressive.
D is busy jabbering away in French to lord knows who and providing us with turn by turn GPS instructions. We are under way on the French autobahn, or the autoroute as they say “en francais,” enjoying the truck and the drive.
Monsieur Francois Cyril Benedict Devereux, of the House of Capet, is a distant descendant of the Capet Aristocracy who ruled France some thousand years ago. Monsieur Devereux has money, truckloads of money, money not counted, money hidden away from prying legal eyes, money used for bribery, money used for “appreciation” of services or favors rendered, money in every direction, tons of the damn stuff.
It also seems there is no limit to the money he had for his Islamic girlfriend, Asmara (the beautiful butterfly) Ahmed Bashara, a top quality woman of modeling excellence, an aristocrat of impeccable breeding and education in her own right. Her role was nothing other than keeping Monsieur Devereux’s money flowing into the Islamic terrorist system. Do whatever you need to do woman, but we need the multiple millions per year your “courtesan efforts” allow you to extract from the billionaire French aristocrat. And of course he must never know where the money goes as we cannot risk offending him and having the flow of capital shut off. So the money flows through a complicated network of shell companies.
You could never track these two down and/or even get past first base at trying to get any form of law suit to stick to them. They were the ridiculously filthy rich and they lived completely outside the laws of France, or of any country for that matter. There simply weren’t any laws which had any impact on what they did or how they did it. To attempt to cut-off the flow of terrorist funding was a very simple and fundamental issue. Kill the Frenchman, and his significant other. The estate would pass to a son who did not have any Islamic interest or ties. The money flow valve was closed. The new accountants would very quickly see to that. End of case.
Monsieur Devereux and the lovely Asmara, along with their huge support entourage, lived in the very rich suburb of Neuilly Sur Seine, some seven kilometers from the center of Paris. They occupied a multiple story stone building of utterly immense size and architecture.
“I have found Monsieur Devereux’s building has a Euronet Security system installed. No surprise as it’s one of the best engineered in the business.” says D.
“But I am sure you can hack your way into the system and also into the Euronet data base to find the layout of the Devereux mansion, can’t you D?” smiles Frosty.
“Mais bien sur, mon ami, mais bien sur.” replies D with a chuckle.
“Very funny, is that a yes or a no?” I mutter.
“Wouldn’t be worth shit if I couldn’t would I?” replies D. “So it would be affirmative.”
“Suggestions on how we get in?” ask Frosty.
“At night from the roof is the only way and there are guards up there who will need to be neutralized.” replies D.
“How close can we get to them, is there a place I can snipe them with the tranq gun? I ask.
“Looks like a shot of over a hundred yards will be the closest you can get.” answers D.
“That’s a long way, and will require modification of the tranquilizer pistol. I’ll need to install a scope, longer barrel and a butt stock, to say nothing of increasing the propellant charge.” mutters Frosty.
“Is the shot from a neighboring rooftop? One hundred yards is an awful long way for a tranquilizer gun.” I ponder.
“It’s actually two rooftops away to get the angle and cover you need to make the shot and not be seen.” says D. “And I think you will need help to get all three without an alarm.”
“So you are saying we need another tranq gun on the quad copter, is that where this is going?” asks Frosty.
“It’s likely the best way as I can only carry one of you in there at a time and we only have one invisibility suit.” replies D.
“Shouldn’t be a problem at all, I can attach the spare pistol to the copter easy enough.” says Frosty.
“Well D, it will be a bit of a ticklish situation as you drop me invisible on the first roof and I get set to shoot a guard, then you go straight up out of sight and come down to where you can hit one of the guards and we both fire at the same time.” I say.
“You fire .45 seconds ahead of me actually as I will be much closer than you are and we want them to both fall at the same time.” replies D.
“So our biggest area of exposure is the quad copter flying without cloaking.” ponders Frosty. “You know we really have to get some time off to make those modifications.”
“I have the necessary gear engineered, so it’s really just some fabrication, mounting and testing required.” says D. “It won’t take long at all really.”
“Define the phrase “it won’t take long at all really” would you D?” I ask.
“Like twenty-two hours of work continuous.” replied D.
“Crap!” says Frosty. “That’s two and a half days.”
“Only in human scheduling terms.” replies D.
“If we can do it successfully it is probably well worth our effort as it substantially increases our options for being completely covert.” I state.
“Couldn’t agree more.” replies Frosty.
“Let’s git er dun!” chuckles D.
“Jesus D, git er dun, what manner of speak is this?” I laugh.
“I’ve been watching Larry the Cable Guy on YouTube attempting to understand human’s humor.” smiles D.
“Good lord, how’s it coming along?” I ask.
“Very confusing, humans are eminently confusing, and their obscure humor is just another dimension of confusion.” sighs D.
Sure enough twenty-two hours later just as D had predicted we have installed cloaking on the quad copter. And as a bonus the tranquilizer guns are ready and the pistol is also installed on the copter. D is ecstatic, Frosty and I are completely whipped and need rest.
Chapter 21: Neuilly Sur Seine
As is often the case in these type of endeavors getting to the target is the most laborious and difficult part. I am cloaked so I know the guards can’t see me but even so I feel exposed as I sight the tranq rifle over the ledge of the roof.
D brings up a second small very quiet drone no bigger than a good sized diner plate with her tranq pistol mounted.
“Ready Matt?” she asks.
“Affirmative,” I reply
“Fire when ready Matt,” whispers D in my ear.
With a “Klunk” I send the dart on its way to the first guard. As it hits and he falls I see the guard D tranq’d drop to the roof. One to go and I’m ready as he comes around the corner of the roof. “Klunk” and he’s down on the roof before he can raise the alarm.
“Nicely done,” whispers D. “I’m right above you ready for pickup.”
“How many drones can you fly at one time D?” I ask.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the number.” chuckles D. “Just latch in and lets go.”
D brings us in cloaked with the quad copter and I slip onto the roof of this modern day castle. I note the guards lying in tranquilized disarray. D “adjusts” the security system such that I can open the door to the roof HVAC and elevator service area. Then I move quietly down the stairs to the top floor to the master suite for Devereux and Asmara. Jesus, some incredible suite, it is as large as most folks houses. From there it is a short trip to the opulence of the sleeping/lounging area where the French aristocrat and his woman are.
I slip quietly into the very large, very upscale, very stylish bedroom. Dark rich woodwork, subtle indirect lighting, rich smell, soft music, thick expensive carpeting, nice, oh so very nice and luxurious, best money can buy.
Viewing in regular, and infrared, to ensure I do not trip any burglar alarm beams, D watching and murmuring in my head. The closer I got to the actual sleeping area the safer it gets as nobody sets alarms between themselves and the bathroom. Get up at night to pee and set off a burglar alarm and have a couple of security guards come galloping in while you are standing there buck naked, nope I don’t think so.
It turns out I could have ridden a straight piped Harley motorcycle right into the bedroom and stopped beside their bed and they would not
have paid me any attention. They were completely immersed, sweating, and naked as jaybirds, in ‘flagrante delicto’. I shot them both in the head, one shot each. “Puff- thok, Puff- thok”, they had no idea what hit them. The suppressed Glock and the subsonic ammo made less noise than their sexual activity had been making.
“Not a bad way to go at all,” I muttered.
“How so,” asks D.
“Because they were completely occupied with sexual sensory overload and enjoying themselves and never felt the bullets that killed them. So, it’s not a bad way to go at all, mid-orgasm.” I reply.
“You humans are a peculiar lot.” whispers D.
“If you had sex D, you would understand.” I reply.
“Now is not the time for sexual discussion, human!” retorts D.
Chapter 22: A Strawman and the Enforcer
Back at the truck stop we gather for an operation debrief.
“There was very sophisticated security on the Devereux’s building,” says D.
“How did you bypass it?” asks Frosty.
“I didn’t, just let it trigger and blocked all the out-going signals. It was quicker and easier that way and everyone will know entrance was via the roof as we tranquilized the guards. They will be hollering their heads off now under interrogation. So it was just easier and quicker to contain the whole building in a signal blocking envelope!”
“Should I ask what the “extra” security was or is it better I don’t know? I ask.
“On the roof top of one of the adjacent buildings was a FLIR and RADAR site which was watching the Devereux’s building.” responds D.
“And so you did what?” asks Frosty.
“I just added static to disguise us and absorbed their alarm signals, crude, but effective for the brief time we were in the area.” smiles D. “But here’s the irony, it was the US government doing the surveillance!”
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