MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection

by D. W. Ulsterman

  Mardian’s voice slithered across his desk, dripping venom.

  “You already agreed to do the job Mac. Tilley told me. If you don’t want the job – fine. You won’t get this job. You won’t get any job. Ever. You’ll be doing security at a fucking Walmart, you arrogant asshole!”

  Tilley attempted to intervene as he saw Mac’s eyes turn dangerous while staring back at Mardian.

  “This is an important operation Mac. We’ve agreed to pay you what you asked for, and if this goes well, I know there’s going to be a lot more work coming your way. This would be very good for your career Mac. You ain’t getting any younger. Time to start saving your pennies, right?”

  Mac ignored Tilley, looking back down at Mardian who was beginning to wither under his gaze. Dasha rose from her chair to look at Mac directly.

  “Please Mr. Walker, I have reviewed your file. You are absolutely the right person for this operation. Mr. Mardian is correct – there will be more work available to you after satisfactory completion of the Libyan operation.”

  Mac’s eyebrows raised slightly as he looked away from Dasha and down at Tilley.

  “She has access to my file? I thought we were off the books Tilley? How does someone from the U.N. have access to MY file? Access to any record of what we’ve been doing? What the hell is going on here?”

  “I am connected Mr. Walker…to more than simply the United Nations. That is my official capacity. Like you, I have what you might like to call, an unofficial capacity as well. Access to your file is not really the issue here. What is at issue is our need to have you take this assignment. Would you consider an additional one hundred thousand dollars in payment Mr. Walker? Half up front? You and your men could certainly use that kind of money, right?”

  Mardian began to object, complaining that Mac was already being paid well for his potential services. This caused Dasha to hold up her hand to Mardian as she ripped through his objection.

  “Mr. Mardian, I would like you to simply sit there now and shut up. I don’t care for you, and neither does Mr. Walker here, and your behavior suggests our feelings are not without merit.”

  In Washington D.C., it was a very rare thing for anyone to speak to Stephen Mardian as Dasha did at that moment. His personal contact list was a collection of the most influential figures within that city’s mighty corridors of power. And yet, much to Mac’s amazement, Mardian’s eyes lowered and he said nothing, causing him to silently wonder who this Dasha really was.

  “Now, Mr. Walker, I would like to invite you to my D.C. residence as my personal guest. Let us have dinner and discuss your involvement in this pending operation further. I’m a notorious night owl, so for me a late dinner is the rule rather than the exception. Do you accept?”

  For the first time since arriving at the cellar Mac felt nervous. Part of him wanted to tell the woman to go to hell. Another part of him screamed to accept the offer and have dinner with her. It only took a few brief seconds for that other part to overcome his indecision.

  “Sure – I’ll have dinner with you. Are you cooking?”

  Dasha gave her beautiful head a brief shake.

  “No Mr. Walker, the meal will have already been prepared. That will leave us more time to talk…and get to know each other better.”

  The warning sirens in Mac’s head were sounding again…

  III.

  By the time Mac and Dasha emerged from the cellar, Nigel already had the car ready to take them to Dasha’s residence, the location of which remained unknown to Mac.

  The vehicle was a black, S550 Mercedes sedan. It was a car common to the political dignitaries that permeated Washington D.C., though Mac was able to ascertain this one had been upgraded with an impressive integrated security package. The rear door Mac opened for himself was much heavier than the standard S550, indicating the shell in shell armoring and attack resistant glass. The car felt as solid as any vehicle Mac had sat in, including a limousine that had once been used for the presidential motorcade.

  “This is quite a car Dasha. You’re either a lot more important than your work with the United Nations suggests, or very rich and very paranoid.”

  Dasha slid gracefully into the left rear seat of the Mercedes as Nigel closed her door and then positioned himself behind the wheel. Looking over at Mac, Dasha gave a slight smile at his comment regarding the car before staring ahead as Nigel drove slowly down the alley before turning right onto G Street.

  “Perhaps I am all that and more Mr. Walker.”

  Both Mac and Dasha remained silent as Nigel drove the Mercedes past the massive IMF building and east along G Street before bearing right onto Virginia Avenue. Within another minute Mac was able to determine where they were heading.

  “You stay at the Watergate Complex?”

  Dasha’s eyes remained looking directly ahead of her as she replied to Mac.

  “Yes - Watergate West, when I am here in Washington D.C., which is as little as possible. I despise this place and its people even more. I much prefer New York, London, and as much as possible, Dubai.”

  Mac nodded, trying to keep the still mysterious woman talking.

  “I can relate to that. Too many political zombies in D.C. and not enough real people. The place gives me the creeps.”

  Dasha turned her head slightly toward Mac as her slender fingered right hand reached out to rest itself on Mac’s left forearm.

  “And where is it that you come from Mr. Walker? Your file said…Louisiana, is that right?”

  Mac wasn’t sure if Dasha actually wanted to know where he was born and raised, or if she was simply reminding him that she knew a lot more about him than he did her.

  “I’m just a simple Louisiana boy, that’s right.”

  Dasha gave Mac’s arms a gentle squeeze and smiled, her white teeth flashing in the dim light of the Mercedes’ back seat.

  “Oh, I know you are far from simple Mr. Walker, and…quite dangerous if need be.”

  Nigel pulled the car into the underground garage of the Watergate West complex, home to many of the capitol’s most prominent power brokers for decades. The building offered location, security, and access – all the essential components for those demanding to rise through the ranks of the Washington D.C. hierarchy.

  Mac noted the elevator rose to the thirteenth floor of Watergate West – the top floor, home to the most expensive and exclusive apartments in one of the most expensive and exclusive buildings in the area.

  As the elevator door opened, a gun appeared in Nigel’s hand as he moved in front of Dasha, looking down both ends of the well lit hallway. Only after determining nobody else was nearby did he step completely out of the elevator and allow Dasha to walk closely behind him. Dasha appeared bored by Nigel’s protective practice, indicating she had been doing this very routine for some time already. Mac on the other hand, made note of Nigel’s every movement. The small man had been well trained. His handgun, a Browning High Power – a very old school British service weapon, leading Mac to believe Nigel had likely been affiliated with one of the Brit’s Special Forces groups. If so, that made him both well trained - and smart. Even though several years older than Mac, Nigel would likely still prove a formidable opponent.

  Dasha stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall and input a security code into what Mac knew to be a vault door system. While the door appeared to be a normal residential door on the outside, it was actually constructed of bare reinforced steel, offering a resident considerable security. As the door swung inward to the residence, Nigel was again the first to enter the room with Dasha following behind.

  The apartment was both spacious, though it contained almost no furnishings. A basic kitchen area was to the left of the entranceway, a large living area that had only a small dark clothed couch and matching chair, and then French doors to an outside balcony that overlooked the Potomac River. Opposite the kitchen was a narrow hallway that Mac assumed led to the bedrooms.

  Dasha turned to Mac as she gestured wit
h her left arm and hand toward the living area.

  “I apologize for the scarcity of furnishing Mr. Walker. As I said, I don’t spend much time here, and don’t feel the need to make it more comfortable. This apartment has been in my family since the buildings’ construction some years ago. Please, have a seat while Nigel warms up the meal.

  Nigel was already removing plates of prepared food from the kitchen’s refrigerator and placing them in the microwave as Dasha sat on the couch. Mac was already sitting in the accompanying chair.

  “Nigel prepares my meals each morning. All they require is a bit of warming up. He is an incredible cook – spoils me terribly. We’re not here to talk of food though, are we Mr. Walker? I have a job needing your particular skills, and very much hope you will accept the assignment. Can I count on you to do so Mr. Walker?”

  Mac could smell the food Nigel was warming up in the kitchen and realized he hadn’t eaten in several hours. He was hungry.

  “How about I get some food in me first and we talk after that?”

  Mac found Dasha’s frown to be as beautiful as her smile.

  “I do hope you don’t intend to dine and dash on me Mr. Walker.”

  Dasha rose from her seat while speaking to Nigel.

  “We’ll take our meal in my bedroom Nigel. Thank you.”

  Nigel simply nodded his head as he began plating the just warmed food. Mac in turn found himself following Dasha down the hallway, wondering to himself how much more the beautiful woman was willing to pay to secure his services for the mission.

  Unlike the main living area of the apartment, Dasha’s bedroom was a full on display of luxury and wealth. From the massive and ornate dark leather bound Armani king sized bedframe and matching chairs, the handcrafted dark stone fireplace, to the incredibly intricate and colorful oriental carpet, the room represented no pretense, but rather real and significant financial means.

  Another door opened onto a private balcony, similar to that offered in the main room but smaller. Dasha opened that door and stepped outside, the still warm and humid summer evening air quickly filling the air conditioned room.

  “This is my favorite part of the residence Mr. Walker. I can just make out the Georgetown Cathedral from here, and the river’s waters below look so dark and mysterious.”

  Mac remained inside the bedroom, just outside the balcony area where Dasha stood leaning against the railing as Nigel entered the room and placed two plates of food and two glasses of water atop a small dark, solid wood trestle table and matching chairs that sat directly in front of the fireplace.

  Dasha had already re-entered the room, though she left the door to the balcony open.

  “Thank you Nigel. Please close the door behind you. I won’t be needing you anymore this evening.”

  Nigel glanced at Mac briefly before looking back at Dasha and nodding his head. He closed the door behind him as she had requested.

  “How long has Nigel been providing your security?”

  Dasha sat in one the chairs and began picking at her food – slices of lightly buttered summer squash, roasted tomatoes, and steak tartare with white truffle oil. She paused to consider Mac’s question.

  “It’s been almost seven years now. He’s both very good and very loyal. Let’s not spend our time talking of Nigel though Mr. Walker. I need your assurance you intend to accept the assignment in Libya. Please, sit down and eat while we discuss it.”

  Mac sat opposite Dasha and inhaled the tartare in one bite, his stomach already growling for more.

  “You appear to be rather hungry Mr. Walker.”

  Mac nodded as he worked his way through the roasted tomatoes and squash.

  Dasha’s eyes twinkled as she looked back at Mac over her water glass while taking a slow drink.

  “Would you like some wine Mr. Walker?”

  Mac was eyeing the remaining steak tartare on Dasha’s plate.

  “Yeah – and you can go ahead and pass that steak over my way too if you ain’t gonna finish it.”

  Dasha laughed as she stood up, and Mac found the sound almost as satisfying as the minced and seasoned steak.

  “It is so nice to spend time with a man and not another preening politician Mr. Walker. Or worse yet, a babbling bureaucrat from the United Nations!”

  With a push of a button, a section of the wall to the right of the fireplace opened up to reveal a fully stocked bar, including several bottles of wine.

  “I prefer a nice, deep, red wine at night Mr. Walker. How about you?”

  Mac was now scraping the rest of Dasha’s roasted tomatoes onto his plate.

  “Sure – pour it and I’ll drink it.”

  After opening a bottle of wine, Dasha filled two glasses and moved slowly across the room toward the balcony.

  “I’ll be just outside Mr. Walker. Please join me when you’re ready.”

  Mac smiled to himself. He had already decided to do the Libya assignment, even if it meant working for some group affiliated with the United Nations. Their money would spend the same as anyone else’s. He was now increasingly certain he’d be working a little late night fun into the deal as well, and judging from the way Dasha had been looking him over, she seemed more than interested in offering as much. When the lights went out, we all wanted company – rich or poor, it didn’t matter.

  The fact she was also incredibly attractive made it all the better…

  IV.

  Mac woke to find Dasha already in the bathroom and Nigel putting breakfast on the same small table in front of the bedroom fireplace he had served dinner at the night before. Glancing at his Resco Patriot watch, Mac saw it was just past 0700.

  “Good morning Mr. Walker. I assume you have accepted the assignment then?”

  Nigel’s demeanor suggested minor annoyance at finding Mac waking up in Dasha’s bed.

  Mac put his hands behind his head and smiled back at Nigel.

  “Probably. Gonna wait and see what kind of breakfast you serve up. Could be the deal maker or deal breaker right there.”

  Nigel tipped his head down slightly to the left and then exited the room, closing the door behind him.

  Mac rose from the bed and walked unclothed to the table of food. Each plate had a small serving of fresh fruit, two pieces of lightly buttered wheat toast, and a dollop of yogurt. Two cups of dark, freshly brewed coffee and two glasses of orange juice had also been placed alongside the plates.

  Mac picked up a cup of coffee and took a slow sip, relishing the rich quality of the brew. Behind him he heard Dasha approaching from the bathroom and turned around to greet her with a smile. She seemed unfazed by his lack of clothing, though she had wrapped herself in a very comfortably looking cream colored cotton robe.

  “I see you’ve already discovered Nigel’s coffee. There’s all the essentials you will need in the bathroom Mac, including a toothbrush, soap, hair products, and the like. Please take your time. When you are in the shower I can have staff clean and press your clothes and they will be done by the time you’re ready.”

  Mac grabbed a piece of toast and made quick work of it, washing it down with another gulp of coffee.

  “No thank you on the clothes. I’ll just brush my teeth, get dressed, and be on my way Dasha. I’ll take the assignment. Have to get a hold of my crew and go over the details with them, and then give final confirmation to Tilley. He handles all the transport and related items. We can be operational within twenty four hours.”

  Dasha appeared pleased by Mac’s acceptance, smiling slightly as she walked toward him.

  “That is very good to hear Mr. Walker. Very good indeed. I am pleased to see our time together last night did not…lessen your enthusiasm for the mission.”

  Mac felt familiar stirrings, and knew if he didn’t get moving, he would likely be spending another hour inside of Dasha’s room. Looking again at his watch, he quickly decided he had another hour to spare and ran toward the large bed, jumping back into its covers. Mac looked back at Dasha as he leaned across th
e bed, his hand patting the space next to him.

  “Might need just a little more convincing. That is, as long our time together last night didn’t lessen your enthusiasm for me.”

  Dasha’s eyes devoured Mac hungrily, as her robe fell to the floor.

  “Not at all Mr. Walker. Not at all…”

  Mac’s estimate of time turned out to be somewhat off – he didn’t leave Sasha’s bedroom for nearly ninety minutes.

  Nigel drove him back to what was a common meeting place for Mac and his crew – the Hillside Pub, a small bar owned by a former Marine Mac had served with years ago. His name was Carlos Diaz. Born to Mexican immigrant parents, Diaz had been a good soldier, and remained an even better man. Mac trusted him with his life.

  Mac had already called ahead that morning to let Diaz know he would be using the private back room of the bar for a meeting. As always, Carlos said it was no problem – the room was theirs and nobody would bother them.

  “Nice to see you Mac. Hope things are well.”

  Diaz shook Mac’s hand warmly. He was just over forty years old, a few inches shorter than Mac’s six foot height, with a slight paunch that had developed in recent years. Carlos was a perpetually grateful man – grateful for being born in America, grateful for the life the military afforded him, and now most of all, grateful to be happily married with two beautiful and healthy daughters and providing for them with his own business.

  “Sorry it’s a bit early Carlos – hope I’m not putting you out.”

  Carlos waived away Mac’s concerns and guided him past the few booths and bar stools of the pub’s main room toward a hallway at the back where the private room was located.