by Alan L. Lee
The fourth occupant at the table was a new face, and though Alex couldn’t hear the conversation, he concluded it was a business meeting of some sort. Judging from the seemingly relaxed nature of everyone, and from Baum’s moments of short laughter, it must be familiar business.
Nora sat with most of her back angled to Baum’s table. She also donned fashionable dark sunglasses that covered a large portion of her face. Her hair was tied back and mostly tucked beneath a hat bearing the logo “FFF”: France’s national soccer team. There wasn’t much conversation taking place at the table. Duncan felt compelled to speak through his Bluetooth device.
“Hey you two, you’re supposed to be a romantic couple enjoying each other’s company on a beautiful day in which love is in the air,” Duncan offered, finding it impossible to contain a smirk. “Come on, chat it up. Hold hands.”
Nora took the ribbing to heart, forming a guilty smile. Alex, assured that Duncan was watching, ran his hand along the side of his face as if wiping something away, retracting four fingers, leaving only the middle digit to scratch away.
“Nice,” Duncan replied. “Such class.”
Alex returned his attention to the menu. He had no idea whether Baum planned on staying for any length of time. So far, his table had only ordered drinks, but they all did look at menus.
The plan was simple enough. If Baum left, Duncan would exit his location and maintain surveillance at a safe distance, giving Alex and Nora time to pay for their food, finished or not, in a seemingly relaxed manner. They would then catch up with Duncan and broaden the tail. Discovering if Baum kept any semblance of a regular schedule would be vital to whatever action they might have to take later. Was there a good place to neutralize or separate the bodyguards, should it be necessary? Other than sleeping, did Baum ever require personal time? Was there a lover? If so, perhaps her place would be an ideal location to make a move on him. Alex did at least know any lover would be a woman, even though less than thirty-six hours ago, he’d never heard of Tobias Baum. It was the kind of detail anyone could acquire, given a little diligence, but Alex had not needed that diligence: Neville had been courteous enough to send Alex an e-mail that contained a condensed, somewhat sanitized bio of Baum. Neville had sensed Alex’s hourglass had a rather wide opening, so he had decided to provide a little headache relief. And whether the bio was sanitized or not, Alex knew how to read between the lines and connect the dots.
It was apparent Baum was a major supplier. A vast majority of merchandise was steady and legitimate through his shipping business, while other transactions were off the books. The former kept him in good standing with authorities, the latter kept him on the lips of governments around the world who either sought to improve their territorial position or maintain influence afar covertly. Alex would bet good money the US had, from one time or another, used Baum’s services, and judging from Neville’s immediate knowledge, Britain probably had as well. The death of Baum’s associate, as Neville hinted, was probably a strong message sent by Israel. The question was, would a guy like Baum back down, or would he use the threat to up his payday from potential buyers? The selling point would be, “I’m taking a huge risk for you. I can deliver, despite your enemies’ pressure and watchful eyes. How badly do you one day want to be able to stand up for yourself?” That kind of comfort and risk-taking was expensive.
Baum’s lunch engagement lasted long enough for everyone to finish their modest orders. Sticking to the plan, when one of Baum’s bodyguards departed, Duncan did too, retrieving the nondescript rental car. He stayed hidden around the corner until Baum’s Mercedes had arrived to pick him up. It was only a matter of minutes before Baum, the remaining bodyguard, and Baum’s lunch guest walked to the waiting vehicle. Shortly after the three were whisked away, Duncan came into view, keeping a safe distance behind.
Alex and Nora remained seated for at least another five minutes before settling the bill. There could be an extra set of eyes checking to see if anyone was interested in Baum’s departure, though Alex doubted it and didn’t pick up on anything. In no apparent rush, Alex and Nora walked to their car and drove off, guided by Duncan’s notifications.
Though he didn’t want to give in to it, deep down inside, Alex could feel an old sensation slowly returning. It was a shot of adrenaline not present for quite some time.
Much to his disappointment, it was beginning to feel good.
CHAPTER 17
This part of his past Alex remembered all too well. Despite some technological advancement, not much had changed either. Sitting on a target, conducting surveillance, got boring pretty quickly.
For three days now, they had monitored Tobias Baum’s every move, with nothing to show for it. Nora gazed through the viewfinder of the digital SLR camera for the hundredth time. It was equipped with a powerful telephoto lens that was fixed on the Baum estate. She could clearly see arrivals at the security gate. Making identifications wasn’t terribly difficult, because all guests, once inside, had to pass through a large, extended glass hallway. Ordinarily, one would think a man like Baum would have just a tad of paranoia, but Alex guessed that the glass was probably bulletproof, and if privacy was needed, shades were available for concealment. A vast majority of the estate was strategically shielded from onlookers by tall trees. The back of the property was virtually impenetrable as it backed up to thick trees that were part of the 180-acre Woluwe Park.
The villa Alex, Nora, and Duncan occupied, courtesy of Neville Schofield, was nearly fifteen minutes outside the city center, nestled among numerous impressive flats and detached terraced houses in the Woluwe-Saint-Lambert municipality. It was apparent the British had had their own reasons for monitoring Baum on occasion, and rather than totally close up shop each time he left town, the villa remained operational should it become necessary to spy on him again. Much to Duncan’s delight, a sizeable amount of surveillance equipment was on hand as well. The living room window provided the best vantage on Baum’s estate. At night, the room stayed dark in case there were binoculars scanning the area for people like them. For three days, it was mundane, normal activity. When Baum’s car went rolling down the long driveway, Alex and Duncan were quick to follow. His destinations had been to his office in the city center, an antique store, an art gallery, and a couple of upscale bars one night. End of story. With that in mind, Alex hardly got excited when Nora announced, “Car approaching the gate.” Duncan, on the other hand, put down the novel he was reading and donned a pair of headphones, keeping his left ear exposed. On a predawn jog during the first day, Duncan had inconspicuously attached a tiny listening device next to the intercom at the entrance gate. It allowed him to hear the words being uttered from the occupant inside the car as it came to a stop outside the metal gate.
Looking at the meters move on his instrument panel, Duncan relayed what he heard. “A man named Davis to see Mr. Baum,” he stated. “They’re buzzing him in.”
Nora adjusted the binoculars’ magnification, following the car as it rolled toward the house. A single occupant exited, but he was cast in shadow as he made his way to the front entrance, which was opening upon his approach. A few steps inside and Nora would hopefully have at least a glimpse of “Davis.” He was patted down by a bodyguard as Baum approached from within the house. Nora could see a smile forming on Baum’s face as he extended a welcoming hand. After exchanging pleasantries, Baum motioned for his visitor to proceed down the hallway.
“Come on. Come on,” Nora whispered. “Give me a look.”
The visitor answered Nora’s plea when he turned his head toward the windows, admiring the overall craftsmanship and nerve of it all. Nora quickly adjusted the focus to get a clear, tight picture.
A firm press of her index finger snapped a series of pictures in rapid succession. She then released her finger and sat up firmly in her chair, the move made with such urgency it caught the attention of both Alex and Duncan. It was as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Motherfucker,” Nora said b
ehind clenched teeth. Alex and Duncan looked at each other with puzzlement. Alex had to pretty much pry the camera from her hands in order to get a look. He only saw the backs of the two men as they disappeared from view. He looked to Nora for an explanation.
“What the hell was that about?”
She stayed silent in the darkness, the anger obvious from her demeanor. Alex set the camera to playback mode to see what she had captured. When Nora spoke, she shook her head toward the estate. “Lipton. Davis fucking Lipton. The asshole responsible for screwing Erica.”
Alex knew the story. Erica Janway had been chief of station in Moscow. Davis Lipton was reportedly a totally talentless prick placed on a fast track thanks entirely to family influence. He was someone Janway definitely had her doubts about. He wasn’t qualified enough to be under her supervision in such a vital and dangerous section of the world. But she was told he was there to stay. She understood why, but protested anyway. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, she did what she thought was the next best and most responsible thing. She made sure he didn’t get in harm’s way. That would ensure he wouldn’t get his stupid ass killed or, worse, get others who knew what they were doing killed.
Janway was eventually blindsided by allegations of harassment brought forth by him. Her drinking, although she was on the road to recovery, suddenly became a major area of concern. Men had been allowed to do it for decades, but for her, the game was not being played on the same field, and Lipton had benefactors. So, pending an investigation, she was called home from Moscow for desk duty at Langley. She felt her career was being flushed down the toilet by some little pissant who didn’t like being schooled, especially by a woman. Janway concluded the only recourse was to beat them to the plunger, so she filed a discrimination lawsuit. She had known she could kiss her career good-bye for sure at that point, but she wanted vindication before she walked out the front door.
Not wanting to risk the camera being tossed across the room, Alex placed it on the windowsill instead of handing it back to Nora. He placed a hand at the back of his neck. “And the hits just keep on coming,” he said, a slight strain in his voice. “Bryce Lipton’s son.”
Duncan removed the headphones. “Senator Lipton? The chairman of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence? That Lipton?”
Nora stared into the distance. “Yes. Fucking yes.”
The room fell silent as the latest revelation was digested.
Alex finally spoke. “Nora, can you get your hands on ten grand by tomorrow afternoon?”
She stared at him, wondering what the hell he was thinking. She also noted there was a calmness about him which slightly put her at ease.
“Time to get some answers,” he said. “Can you get the money?”
“Yes, I can.”
CHAPTER 18
Day was politely giving way to night. The sunset was worth a thousand snapshots, and yet, as breathtaking as it was, it couldn’t come close to the beauty of the little girl in a floral dress. Her eyes were bright ovals of hazel, full of innocence and playfulness. Her golden hair was neatly combed, and her spotless yellow shoes were prized possessions, along with the freckled doll she snuggled. She had hardly touched her meal, but much to the large party’s delight, she was proving to be a perfect angel. Besides, she had other interests. She playfully peeked around her mother’s shoulder with those big eyes, only to disappear quickly, reemerging slowly once again. She had the stranger hooked. At first, he pretended not to notice, but that would be like avoiding an exploding star streaking across the night sky.
There was much to take in at the Palazzo Ouzeri restaurant along the Old Venetian port in Chania, Crete. The noise level was pleasant, the distant tone of people enjoying a respite from the rigors of everyday life. The food, relatively inexpensive, was nonetheless tasty, especially when accompanied by several glasses of Cretan wine. The smartly dressed man fit right in with the throng of people who were trying to relax. For most of the day he had hidden behind sunglasses: partly because the sun was bright, but mostly so he could observe without being exposed—and, most assuredly, so that he could be left alone.
The little girl totally disregarded any expectation of privacy he might have had. He guessed she was around four or five years old. After putting his sunglasses on the table, and feeling yet another wide-eyed inspection, he unexpectedly made a funny face that caught her by surprise. It produced an irresistible giggle as she was eclipsed behind mom again. Her mother recognized something had captivated her daughter’s attention and turned around to see what all the fuss was about. She smiled in response to the man’s seemingly innocent expression, and was quick to say “Thank you” when he noted she was “precious.” The girl sat at a table of eleven, mostly adults, so the mother felt secure in not being overly protective. There wasn’t anyone quite the girl’s age to play with among the group, so she busied herself with her new friend, making outrageous faces in return. The mother admonished the girl by telling her to stop, but Nathan Yadin assured her it was okay.
“I’m just as guilty,” he playfully admitted. The little girl’s innocence was just what he needed at the moment. It was reassuring that he could still be touched in such a way.
This unscheduled getaway for him was meant to be therapeutic. If he worked in a more structured environment, the likely recommendation would have been to see a psychiatrist, and post-traumatic stress would have been the probable diagnosis. Yadin had never grown fond of killing, but he took pride in ridding the world of its ill citizens. Still, on this day, instead of totally enjoying the warmth and atmosphere of this gorgeous place in Crete, he was slightly troubled.
It was the woman.
He had nothing against killing women. They had, over the years, proven just as capable of devious acts as men. No, killing women was not a concern. Killing that woman, however, stuck with him. Other than her name, he only knew what Ezra had told him: that she had to die if the overall operation was to succeed. There was something about her, though, and hearing her speak, however briefly, stayed with him. Presented with the inevitable, she was not afraid. Others, when confronted with her situation, often begged for their lives or promised anything. He didn’t want to question Ezra about it—at least, not at the moment. There was too much at stake, and jeopardizing it on something he couldn’t get out of his mind seemed altogether silly. Yadin tried to put the matter to bed by promising when all this was done, he would learn more about Erica Janway. This was a first for him, caring about the dead.
For now, he fully intended to give in to what his body and mind were aching for. They needed rest. The first part of achieving that had him getting out of Paris shortly after his meeting with Ezra had concluded. He didn’t want to take the chance of Mossad or anyone else figuring out that Paris was where he officially resided. He didn’t bother to tell Ezra he was heading to Crete and couldn’t be contacted for the next several days. Yadin knew Ezra’s timetable. If there truly was a problem, an e-mail would alert Yadin, and that was the only thing he checked anyway. He was not the kind of person one easily got in touch with to begin with, so being totally out of contact was not unusual. Anyone looking for him had better have a damn good reason for doing so.
Yadin took a deep, cleansing breath as he soaked in the surroundings. This was what life was supposed to be about. People from different backgrounds experiencing the same things while enjoying and respecting each other’s existence. He winked at his little friend. Families spending time together. He liked to think he was doing his part in making people feel safe. Tonight, at least, he would go to sleep with that belief. That would be after he answered another of his mental and physical needs. He would find a woman tonight to lie down with. He wanted his strong hands to gently caress the body of someone soft. A woman whose scent made the air around her more breathable. He wanted it to happen naturally, which would require him to be engaging, at the very least. He could be charming. Just ask his little friend in the floral dress. He smiled at her a last time as he rose from
his chair. The night was young, and he felt like being part of the action. He liked the sound of it. Before he left the restaurant, he stopped to pay his bill and in doing so, requested that an assortment of flowers be given to the little girl. He also instructed that her table’s tab be charged to his credit card. With that, he exited into the awaiting night in search of pleasure. So far, it was a good vacation.
CHAPTER 19
Technically, he was considered a senior citizen. However, at sixty-five, Senator Bryce Lipton hardly felt old. Perhaps that was because life kept throwing challenges at him, forcing him to stay active. Part of his unyielding drive was due to the fact he hadn’t yet achieved all the things he deemed possible in the political arena. He had clout and prestige, but for him, as for the wealthy person who craves yet more money, there was never such a thing as too much.
Growing up, he had known wealth, but as the limousine pulled into the grounds of the stately manor, he noted that this was altogether something else. The house itself had to be at least fifteen thousand square feet, well secured behind landscaping that easily was over a million dollars. The drive from his Capitol Hill office was uneventful, no serious traffic tie-ups. It really was a manageable drive, should he ever have to get here in a hurry. He prayed that such a day would never come. These meetings were usually held at an address in the District. This was his first visit to the “castle.”
