The MP returned, directing her to the visitor’s parking lot with instructions to immediately report inside. It ended up taking the full fifteen minutes she had available plus some before she was arriving at Colonel Booker’s office.
“I apologize for being late, Colonel,” she said as she stood at attention, her CIA outfitted Captain’s uniform still crisp.
Booker was the stereotype for straight-laced full bird’s. Short cropped silver hair, slim but powerful build, thick leathery skin from years of deployment in the deserts of Asia. He pointed to a chair, barely looking up from the file she had provided his secretary, something quickly whipped up by her sweetheart Chris Leroux. She hoped it would prove sufficient, it modeled after another case mocked up a few years ago.
Booker looked up. “You’re investigating Captain Lewis for a possible Medal of Honor citation?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Who nominated him?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m not at liberty to say. If you knew, it might taint your answers.”
Booker’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I can assure you, Captain, that my answers will always be honest and forthright.”
Sherrie tried not to gulp, realizing she had already misread Booker.
By the book! Don’t volunteer anything you don’t need to.
“I have no doubt, sir.”
Booker eyed her again for a moment. “What is it you want from me?”
“You were his commanding officer when he died.” She was about to end the sentence as if it were a question, but decided to be more succinct as Booker didn’t seem to tolerate much. They both already knew the answer, so why ask the question? “From your recollection of the events leading to his death, does it agree with the written description provided to us?” She nodded toward the folder.
“Yes.”
Okay, very succinct. Too succinct.
Her job was to try and elicit some response. Some surprise that this particular person was being spoken of. And at no costs reveal that the CIA knew the man was actually alive. She was looking for discomfort, and she was sensing none.
Perhaps he has no idea?
“Do you see any reason why Captain Lewis should not be awarded this honor?”
Booker leaned back in his chair, saying nothing, simply staring at Sherrie. Sweat dripped down her back as she felt herself become suddenly uncomfortable. Her intuition was telling her to get out of here, and she made the conscious decision that the last question had already been asked.
“No,” said Booker finally. He suddenly rose. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. Walk with me, Captain, and I’ll give you my opinion on this entire situation.”
Sherrie had leapt to her feet the moment Booker had risen. “I think I have all I need, Colonel. I wouldn’t want to bother you any further.”
“Walk with me.”
It was an order, and she had to obey, otherwise her cover would be blown. Captains don’t ignore Colonel’s orders, even if they’re not in their chain of command. Especially orders as innocuous as “Walk with me.”
She fell in one step behind the Colonel and to his left, his pace brisk.
“Let me clarify my last answer,” he said as they exited the building, the sun now very low on the horizon. He pointed to the passenger seat of a Humvee as he climbed into the driver seat. Sherrie immediately felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise as she eyed her rental sitting nearby. “What I meant was, if the standards of the military have dropped so low that charging into an alleyway blindly, ignoring all procedure, is grounds enough for a Medal of Honor today, then I see no reason to object.”
The truck surged deeper into the base as he spoke, Sherrie merely listening, her heart racing. Something was definitely wrong. She slowly reached for her watch, a simple twist of the face then click of a button on its side enough to activate a tracking beacon and distress call.
Booker’s hand lunged out, grabbing her wrist, enveloping the watch in his massive hand.
“Let’s keep them out of this, shall we?”
He turned a corner and raced through an open set of garage doors, doors that immediately began to close behind them. As the vehicle screeched to a halt, large overhead lights suddenly bathed them in a harsh white glow. She gasped as she saw a woman standing nearby wearing the exact same outfit as her, hair color and style to match.
“Take her watch first,” Booker said to two soldiers who approached the passenger side. She was quickly stripped of the watch, satchel, shoes, and limited jewelry, including a simple necklace that Chris had given her for their first anniversary.
She nearly cried.
But she didn’t. She kept her face as devoid of emotion as she could, beginning to compartmentalize herself as she prepped for what was coming.
As they took her shoes, her double stepped into them, placing the necklace around her neck, the watch on her wrist, and the satchel under her arm. Her cap was placed atop her hair and pulled low to hide her face.
Booker nodded in approval then the double climbed in the passenger side, one of the other men driving it back out the doors and into the night. Sherrie looked at Booker, her face blank. She had her answer. Booker knew damned well that Captain Lewis was alive, and knew at a minimum that she wasn’t who she claimed to be.
And whatever it was he was protecting, was big enough for him to risk pissing off the CIA.
And if she knew her trade craft handbook as well as she knew she did, her double would take her car off the base, leaving footage showing she had left unmolested, then disappeared after the fact.
She just prayed Chris would see past the subterfuge.
Mandara Spa, Beijing, China
Lee Fang knocked on the door, her outfit hastily thrown on after she had received General Yee’s orders to report to his suite at once. She assumed nothing was wrong as she waited for permission to enter, the guards on either side of the door saying nothing, their demeanor suggesting nothing wrong.
“Enter!”
She opened the door and stepped into the suite. She didn’t see the General at first, but it was a large room, more like a one-bedroom apartment, much bigger than anything 99% of the population lived in on a daily basis.
Decadence.
She realized it was the new way, and she even partook at times, enjoying a nice Starbucks coffee when she was in the city, but it was one of her few indulgences. And with her meagre PLA salary, she had little spare money for such luxuries, the bulk of what was left over at the end of the month sent back home to help her parents trapped on their subsistence farm.
Life in China was hard for too many.
But things were improving, she just hoped her homeland didn’t turn into the United States. At least that’s what she was trained to think, or rather indoctrinated to think.
And indoctrination was hard to break.
From a baby she was taught that China was the light, the West was the great darkness. She knew that wasn’t entirely true, she had been on enough ops outside of the country to have been exposed to Westerners and Western culture to realize they weren’t impoverished evil devils like her parents and grandparents were taught, left to wallow in their own filth and depravity by an uncaring state.
With the Internet and the opening up of political and economic ties to the outside world, the teachings had changed since it was difficult to reconcile a failed outside world with one that could create things as amazing as Coca-Cola and McDonalds. Clearly the outside world was successful, just different. And the Chinese government would have its people believe that the outside world was not one to emulate, but to exploit, in the end creating a better China that could dominate its enemies militarily, economically, and culturally if it could avoid the trappings of the Western way of life.
Indulgence in moderation.
Unless you were part of the elite.
“In the bedroom, Major.”
Her chest tightened. She knew what was about to happen and she had already decided long ago that no matter w
ho the man was, no matter how high in the food chain they were, she would do nothing she didn’t want to do.
And having sex with an obese sexagenarian party insider was not on her “to do list”.
But she had to follow lawful orders, and calling her into the bedroom wasn’t unlawful. He could merely be changing into his uniform.
A thought that she didn’t believe for a second.
She walked through the bedroom door to her left and nearly frowned at the sight. General Yee lay spread-eagle on the bed, naked, his impressively small penis between his thumb and forefinger, a martini glass in the other.
“Fang, so good of you to come.”
Fang said nothing.
“I’ve been watching you.” He took a sip of his drink, the other hand slowly taking care of business, her arrival apparently breathing life into the small appendage. “I think you could go far should you play your cards right.”
Again she remained silent, standing at attention, her eyes examining the cove molding that trimmed the ceiling.
“Come, join me,” he said, patting the bed, his hand quickly returning to his wagging member.
“I’m afraid I cannot, Comrade General.”
“Why not?” His voice clearly indicated he was annoyed.
“I’m on duty, Comrade General. Let me go get one of the ladies from earlier.” She turned to leave before he could say anything, but was surprised by how quickly he leapt from the bed.
“Stand fast, Major.”
She stopped, slowly turning back toward her commanding officer.
“Look at me.”
She lowered her gaze, the leer on his face turning her stomach. He came within inches of her, his large belly pushing against her toned six-pack. A hand grasped her ass, pulling her tight against him and she felt his now fully engorged member press into her stomach.
She fought the urge to break his neck, instead remaining silent, all emotion wiped from her face as she continued to follow her orders, looking at him.
“You’re a clever one,” he said, draining his martini glass and tossing it against the wall, the tall stem sheering off, the rest of the crystal shattering and falling atop a dresser. His freed hand cupped her small but adequate right breast, pumping it like a stress ball, his index finger flicking over her nipple repeatedly, it involuntarily hardening.
For a split second she felt shame.
“You thought I didn’t know you were around the corner, listening to our conversation, didn’t you?”
She clenched her teeth lest her jaw drop open.
He squeezed her tighter against him, his hips now pumping against her shirt steadily as he lowered his mouth to her neck.
“I had forgotten you were there, but when you entered to do your fake rounds, I remembered that you had been there all along.”
She said nothing, realizing that what she had overheard merited death in today’s China.
His lips pressed against hers, his tongue seeking, demanding entrance into her mouth, yet her lips remained pressed tightly together. His hand moved from her breast to her throat. He squeezed.
“You will submit, Comrade Major.” His hand let go of her throat and dropped down, suddenly tearing open her blouse revealing her bra and dark, toned skin. His fingers shoved under the top of her bra, gripping her breast, pinching her nipple between two of his dry fingers.
She reached her belt, her hand resting on her pistol, then dismissing shooting the pig as it would cause too much noise. He yanked her by the bra toward the bed, spinning her around so she was facing the door. She felt the edge of the bed press against the back of her legs.
She pulled the knife and raised it. He must have noticed as he stopped sucking on her exposed nipple and gasped. She plunged the blade in the top of his head, burying it to the hilt, scrambling his brains.
He died, instantly, silently, slowly sliding to the floor, a look of shock on his face as he hit the carpet, she controlling his descent with her free hand. She yanked the knife from his skull, wiped it clean on the bed, then pulled him back to his feet and rolled him onto the mattress in one fluid motion. She grabbed the blanket, tossing it over the bloodstain on the floor, then took the sheet and covered the general’s body, leaving his lower half exposed so anyone looking in might hesitate. Retrieving several pillows from the living area of the suite, she formed the outline of a person snuggled up against him in the bed.
Should anyone glance in, they’d think the general and his concubine were asleep after an evening of exhausting sex.
She went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, fixing the blouse, unable to do anything about the fact two buttons had popped off when he had assaulted her. She straightened her hair, there no makeup to fix, then returned to the hallway.
“Yes, Comrade General. I will see that you aren’t disturbed until morning. Enjoy your evening.”
She said it slightly louder than necessary, hoping that those on either side of the door outside were able to hear what was said. Opening the door swiftly, her trained eye immediately discerned the hall was empty save the two guards. She marched past them, letting the pneumatic door closer do its job.
“The general and his female guest are not to be disturbed for any reason until eight tomorrow morning,” she said, tossing the order over her shoulder. “Make sure your relief is made aware.”
The two soldiers snapped their heels together, and she thought she had made it when one of them cleared his throat. “Comrade Major, I thought he was alone when you went in.”
She slowed almost imperceptibly before catching herself, continuing her march toward the elevator. She jabbed the button, turning back to the guards. “The General has one guest with him. A, shall we say, special guest. She is not to be looked at or mentioned to anyone. Understood?”
Again heel clicks as the implication of an underage prostitute was received.
The doors opened and she stepped aboard, pressing the button for her floor. As the elevator descended, her mind raced. She needed to escape the situation and go into hiding, probably permanently. Which meant she would have to leave China.
The thought at once crushed her and angered her, the fact she might need to flee her country because of some horny pig of a general.
But where to go?
The only place she could think of where she might be safe would be America. And she did have some intel that she felt they needed to know about. If she were correct, their President was about to be assassinated, and if it were to succeed, and link back to China, it could mean war and millions if not billions of deaths should it go nuclear.
Her duty was to her country, and right now, that duty meant betraying it.
She thought of the Americans she had met recently in Africa.
The doors opened on her floor and she swiftly made her way to her room. As she packed she finalized her decision, it clear there was little choice.
But she had no clue how to reach the soldiers she had met, at least not through channels.
Which left only one possibility.
And it meant taking a leap of faith she wasn’t sure she was ready to make.
James Acton & Laura Palmer Residence
St. Paul’s, Maryland
Archeology Professor James Acton lay in bed, naked, a smile on his face ten miles wide as his wife and lover lay draped across him, her naked flesh hot and sweaty, their love making session one for the record books.
At least his own record book.
It was love making at its best as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t count the number of times he had counseled kids in his class that porn was sex, but sex was not porn. Boys today expected acrobatics from their women because that’s all they thought sex was, their only exposure from an early age porn clips on the Internet. And young women were equally confused, kids not understanding that what was on the screen wasn’t real, wasn’t love, and if you were to believe the porn stars, especially the female ones, not fun.
What he and Laura had just taken p
art in was the real thing. It wasn’t vanilla, definitely chocolate chip, and it was fantastic. And now that they knew what each other liked after several years of dating and now marriage, it heightened the excitement, the intimacy, the intensity.
Life is good!
Laura moaned. “God, that was great.”
“You married a stallion.”
“I certainly did. They should put you out to stud, but I want you all to myself.”
A quick grin escaped his control for a second at the thought of being put out to stud.
“I saw that.”
“Of course you did.” He looked down at her as she looked up his chest at him. “A man’s allowed to think about stuff, as long as he doesn’t touch.”
Laura’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Oh yeah, maybe I’ll just have to remind you just how lucky you have it here at the ranch.”
She began to kiss her way down his chest, then his stomach, and what was once flagging was quickly at full mast as he closed his eyes, his head pressing back into the pillow.
“Where’s your mind now?” she asked as she reached the prize.
“I can’t even remember what we were talking about.”
The phone rang.
He groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Ignore it,” she said, the ringing getting more distracting.
He looked at the call display. “It’s long distance, I better get it.”
She jumped off him, grinning. “Your choice.”
He grabbed the phone, giving her the eye. “You’re evil.”
She winked. “Too late. We’re married now.”
He answered the phone. “Hello?”
“Professor Acton?” It was a woman’s voice. It sounded like either they had a bad connection or she was speaking low. He pressed the phone against his ear a little tighter.
“Yes, who’s this?”
Death to America (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #4) Page 7
