Instigator

by Fiona Quinn

  “Oh, no ma’am Gator ain’t my call name. It’s my given name. Gator Aid.”

  “Aid. Is that A-i-d or A-d-e?” Johnna asked.

  “Gator Aid? That sounds like a long drink of something cool and sweet on a very hot day,” Lula said in a flirtatious voice as she glanced back at Christen.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” he said to Lula before turning to Johnna. “A-i-d, ma’am.”

  “That must be an old joke,” Lula turned back to him with a smile. “But seriously, you’re not pulling my leg? That’s really your name?”

  Johnna tilted her head. “Your mother named you Gator with a last name like Aid?”

  Gator smiled his wide smile that was kind of sweet, and very wholesome. The wholesome image probably came from his lopsided grin, that had a humbleness to it. Or the merriment that danced in his dark eyes, Christen thought. Or maybe that shadow of a bruise on his left cheek bone that looked like he got into it in the schoolyard or maybe got into some trouble running through the woods. But then his body had nothing to do with sweet or wholesome. Gator’s body said fu— Gator caught her eye just as Christen formulated that thought. Her face flamed red. Shit.

  His gaze shifted calmly back to Johnna’s “Yes ma’am. My momma’s got a wicked sense of humor. A natural born story teller, too.”

  “Have you got brothers and sisters?” Lula asked. “Did they get great names like yours?”

  “I guess that depends on your point of view, ma’am. My oldest sister’s name is Medic ‘cause that’s what my dad did for the Army, and my momma, she was right proud of him. Then there was me. I was born with my first two teeth already in and bit her straight off. After me came the twins Deck and Marmal. Though, now that he’s grown, Marmal likes to be called Mark. And then there’s the baby, Seren. But she’s twenty-two now. So we cain’t really call her the baby no more.”

  The three women had turned his way and were staring. Their lips moved as they processed through each name in their minds.

  Christen blinked. Marmal Aid?

  Lula doubled over. “Good one.” She snorted. “Oh my god that was so awesome!”

  “Ma’am?” Gator asked in all sincerity, looking confused.

  Christen was horrified that Lula was laughing at Gator’s family’s names. She sent him a wide-eyed look not sure what to say to apologize for her friend.

  Gator sent her a wink, and she had a rush of whew! She needed to get cooled off. Like now.

  His gaze traveled down her body and stopped at her thigh. The laughter fell off and his eyes filled with concern. He brought his gaze up to hers. “That’s an unusual place for a burn, ma’am. An unusual shape.”

  Christen looked down at the red mark that had blistered. She remembered that just a couple of days ago she was in a completely different world — one where plasma torches threw blazing hot metal shards her way, and her job looked nothing like lying about on a chaise lounge sipping a brunch cocktail. She didn’t want to be here. Not in any way, shape, or form. And she didn’t want Gator’s concern, because when he looked at her with tenderness, it did crazy things to her heart.

  “Swim break,” she called and jogged toward the shore line. She dove into the dark waters of the strait and pulled hard in a breast stroke, propelling herself away. Gator was going to be a major distraction to her mission, she concluded once again. If she let him. She came up for air, took a gulp and went deeper into the cool sea. She could work past this. She’d use the skills she’d built during her years up in the helicopter. If she could keep her attention on task while the Deltas were pulling a man from his jail cell onto her helicopter, she could do this. She could - she would keep her eye on her gauges, her hand steady on the stick. Then she’d get back to her unit where she belonged.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lynx

  Thursday, Panther Force War Room, Iniquus Headquarters

  “I wonder if we should be worried about Gator’s role?” Nutsbe scowled as he fast forwarded through the video that had been sent over the encrypted channel to Iniquus Headquarters. This particular information had come from Christen Davidson’s contact lenses. “She has her eye on him all the time. And I mean all the time. It’s almost like he’s the person of interest, and she’s doing surveillance.”

  “Did you get anything back from the Dar es Salaam incident?” Lynx asked, ignoring what she was sure was Nutsbe’s misinterpretation of the situation.

  Lynx and Nutsbe each clutched a mug of coffee. Black. High-test. Both felt more than a little groggy sitting at the computer here in the Panther Force war room. While it was cocktail-hour in Singapore, it was twelve hours earlier in DC. Nutsbe and Lynx had been working non-stop to develop a theory about who had come after William Davidson in Tanzania. The attack didn’t have any of the signatures of what had happened to Derek Bowman and his wife. Meg Finley had drawn the conclusion that both Davidson and Bowman were going after the Tanzanian oil contract, though their motivations were night and day.

  On the afternoon that Gator and Blaze saved William Davidson, the satellite imaging, at Nutsbe’s direction, had zoomed in on the attack. Nutsbe had sent that data on to the CIA who was replicating Iniquus’s attempts to identify the attackers. The CIA computers were tasked and churning, but had yet to spit out any names. Here at Iniquus, Nutsbe had qualified the computer search parameters with three specific filters: those images as they pertained to William Davidson, to the former USSR countries, or to helium. When they got hold of a roster of party goer names, Nutsbe added those in, as well.

  Lynx and Nutsbe agreed that the Davidson attack had to have been spurred by someone in the know – or how would the attackers be aware that there was a private meeting planned on that particular terrace at that exact time?

  “It would be nice to know who was supposed to have joined Davidson out there at the lone table.” Lynx took another sip from her mug. “Gator said there were four place settings. Three more people were expected.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about accessing Davidson’s laptop. See if I can’t scrounge around and find any information about that meeting.”

  Nutsbe pressed a button and once again, they were scrolling through the images from Christen’s day.

  Lynx startled when Nutsbe’s computer dinged on full volume. As her body jerked, she sloshed coffee onto the desk. “Sorry about that,” Nutsbe said, adjusting the volume.

  “My fault.” Lynx jumped up to grab a towel while Nutsbe clicked on the secured satellite feed they had been waiting for, initiated by Johnna Red. As Lynx scampered back to clean up her mess, she found herself face to face with Red.

  Lynx was finally able to put a name to the face, even if it was a cover name. Red was a lot younger than Lynx had expected. A lot softer looking than she’d imagined. Lynx only knew Red by voice from being the foreign contact on a case she had worked a couple of months before; it had to do with conflict relics moving out of Syria. In May, Red had been in Jordan working on a case to do with illegally funding ISIS groups in Syria. Was that somehow tied in with this? Lynx would have to process that information and see how it added to the rest of the intelligence. Could be it connected, could be that casework was completely separate from this case. No conclusions to be drawn until there was hard evidence. Lynx penned a thought bubble on her paper and jotted a few words.

  While Nutsbe and Red checked the various data systems they had running, Lynx sat quietly, thinking. Red was pretty in a subtle way – not someone who would over-attract attention. But certainly, someone whom a man would try to impress with his knowledge and contacts. At a glance, Red wasn’t just attractive but obviously intelligent, well-educated, and graceful with a timbre of voice that could flip from the no-nonsense tone she was using now to the carefree jaded socialite she was play acting. A chameleon. For sure, Red was the kind of woman any man would want on his arm, which was an important component—as far as Lynx could tell—to this data collection mission. Lynx knew from personal experience in the field that this was the key to get in
to many a door and out of many a fix without raising any suspicions. If you’ve got it, use it – all in the name of American safety and security, of course.

  Nutsbe had said that this was a joint contract, CIA and Department of the Treasury Office of Intelligence and Analysis. Red was CIA. The other woman, Lula LaRoe, maybe she was from the Treasury, maybe not. But that Treasury piece made Lynx think that this case, coupled with the case Red had been involved with, had something to do with financing US enemies, maybe even terror groups like Hezbollah. Lynx drew more thought bubbles, noted different questions and directions where she could look. Hezbollah did have a bromance of sorts with Qatar. And Qatar had shown up in Lynx’s research about helium. Not that helium was a given part of the equation either. At this point Lynx was grabbing at straws. One thing for sure, though, was that Qatar had a player on Davidson party’s guest list, a close relative to the royal family no less.

  Still, it seemed an odd stretch that Red would be working on something that started in Tanzania. And the information that Meg had fed the guys about helium very well could be just an interesting note in the global energy symphony (or cacophony, depending on your point of view). Davidson worked in energy…She drummed her fingertips on the desk as she let the information perk.

  “Red, I was just saying to Lynx I think we have a problem.”

  Lynx brought her attention fully forward.

  Red brushed her hair back over her shoulder. “With the feed?”

  “No. That’s fine. We’ve gone through the visual data from the point where you three put in your lenses on the airplane after landing in Singapore up until now. You all haven’t turned on the audio yet.”

  “We will as we head down to the party.”

  “Noted.” Nutsbe said. “My concern is that you wanted to keep Christen in the dark about the identities of her teammates, Gator and Blaze. From watching her contact feed, I think Christen’s spotted an anomaly and is tracking them, well Gator at least. Do you think that she’ll inform her father?”

  “No,” Red said.

  “To which part are you saying no?” Nutsbe asked. “Don’t get me wrong, I know Christen. She’s a patriot. But if she doesn’t understand the role Gator’s playing, she may think that her dad needs a heads up about him. Something’s caught her eye. Her focus rarely moves off him for long.”

  Lynx sent Nutsbe a side-eye. Was he kidding?

  Red seemed to move through the same thought process holding her eyebrows high as a she blinked – pure incredulity.

  “I think she needs to be read into this part of the mission.” Nutsbe pushed.

  “Thank you for the information.” Red said, her face now painted with neutral emotions “I’ll pay close attention to the situation. I’m sure if she was to bring concerns to anyone, she would start with either Lula or me.” Red gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Christen’s not an actor. This mission isn’t her bailiwick, and she’s struggling. She’s straight forward and honest in her presentation. To make this work, she needs to be slightly perturbed that she’s being followed around by security. She needs to try to get away from them when she can. When she does, Blaze and Gator need to bring it to Davidson’s attention, as I told Blaze and Gator earlier. We understand from Lula that having a close protection team was a major issue between her and her father, and ultimately the reason why Christen stays away from travelling with her dad. In the last few years, Christen only shows up when she can meet them and leave of her own volition, without the security detail. She tells Lula that close protection makes her feel like a prisoner. It would look peculiar if suddenly she was okay with a protection detail. Resentment needs to show up in her eyes and her body language.”

  “I get it.” Nutsbe said. “But she slipped her detail at the hotel and headed out the side door following two of her father’s guests and hung out on the bench while they smoked. Gator and Blaze are trying to keep tabs on you three women all at once When you three disperse between several rooms, as you did when you came back from the beach, it gives Christen a chance to slip out. If we didn’t have her on tracker and camera, we could have lost her quickly. A bag over her head—like what happened to Davidson in Tanzania—and her jewelry removed, Christen could easily be magicked away.”

  “Our concern is,” Lynx said, leaning forward, “that Gator and Blaze thwarted a real-life kidnapping attempt on William Davidson. We have no idea who was involved. We believe, however, that the kidnappers have or had unique access to William Davidson’s schedule. If the bad actors followed Davidson’s itinerary, they could very well be in Singapore now. Christen could conceivably be a target along with Davidson himself and his other family members. The family’s ongoing safety allows your mission to play itself out. Your mission’s success depends on Christen’s safety. While the others in the family enjoy having their protection in place. Christen is averse.”

  Red nodded as she took the information in. “I see your point.”

  “Iniquus would be more comfortable, given the changed dynamic,” Lynx said, “if your organization could come to some understanding with Christen about accepting her security detail. Gator was fine with Lula running parkour with Christen up until the point where they hit the roofs. Once they were out of sight and were in danger-mode with all that flipping between high rises, he wasn’t as comfortable with the arrangement,” Lynx said.

  “Understood. I had Lula egg that scenario on. I thought it was a good way to make a distinction between our team and the Iniquus team so Christen would keep your guys at arm’s length. And your men could prove their loyalty by bringing that event to her father’s attention, which they did as requested. Look, Christen’s a team player to her bones. Any sign of the five of us being teammates would send up flares for her dad and possibly the others. But, I do get your point. We can work to calm down the us/them dynamic.” Johnna turned her head toward the door as her cell phone buzzed. “Hang on, I think that’s one of your guys.” As she walked to the door, Lynx watched Red swipe her cell phone screen to read the text.

  “Blaze has eyes on Lula and Christen. You needed one of us?” That was Gator’s voice.

  “I have your Iniquus support team on a video feed.” Red’s voice sounded muffled with the distance. “I’ll leave you to talk with them. I’m going outside to take this call. I’ll just be a minute.”

  They could hear the click as the door shut.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lynx

  Thursday, Panther Force war room, Iniquus Headquarters

  Gator stepped forward. “Yo,” he said with an easy smile as he settled into the place Red had just vacated.

  “That was quick,” Lynx smiled. “Red said she just texted you – it couldn’t be more than three minutes ago.”

  “The clients are housed at the hotel across the street. Red has this room for communications. No chance of it being wired.”

  “They’re pulling out all the stops,” she said.

  “Seems so. But look, Blaze and me, we’re kind of in the dark about things here. We got hired on and told that we’re to keep an eye on Johnna, Lula, Christen and things. It would sure help to know how they defined things. Is Red going to read me into the program now?”

  “I hope so,” Lynx said. “She’s going to get you equipped, that much I know. They’re using those new image-recording contact lenses, you’ve tried here at Headquarters. You and Blaze will need to be focusing on the comings and goings at the different events. They’re particularly interested in who is having a quiet tête-à-tête in the corners and what players are obviously avoiding being seen together.”

  “Roger that.”

  “You’ll be given watches that record sound. And throw away phones that encrypt both the visuals from your contact lenses and the audio from the watches to send them our way,” Nutsbe added.

  “We knew Red was the contractor, who are the other women?” Gator leaned forward to post his elbows on his knee, wrapping his fingers around his wrist. Focused. Comfortable. A wall against the
enemy. “Do you know why the two of them were on top of that roof for so long? I mean, it wasn’t what I was expecting from a lawyer and an artist.”

  “An artist?” Nutsbe asked.

  “Davidson’s daughter, Christen, is a paper artist, she folds origami for gallery shows.”

  Nutsbe scowled. “Who told you that? Is that what Red’s saying?”

  “No,” Gator tipped his head to the side, his brow furrowed. “That’s what her dad said when he hired Blaze and me on.”

  “Yeah, let me set you straight there, brother. I know Christen Davidson personally. She goes by the call sign D-day.”

  “More.” Gator leaned closer to the screen, and Lynx saw an eagerness in his eyes she’d never seen there before. It seemed Gator and Christen had sparked the same interest in each other. As she thought that, she momentarily became both weightless as if floating and compressed by and enormous force. She held her breath knowing there was no air to breathe. Terror swam through her body. Desperation. Then she found the air again, and sucked in a deep lungful.

  “Hey, you okay?” Gator asked.

  Lynx took a minute to catch her breath, so she knew she could speak. She didn’t like it when she picked up sixth sense information in such a physical way under the best of circumstances. But certainly, she didn’t want to do it while she was here in front of Nutsbe and especially not if she was in front of a client. She pounded a fist against her chest. “I swallowed, and it went down the wrong tube.”

  He nodded, looking unconvinced.

  “Before I forget, you and I need some time to have a chat, I have some Strike Force information to pass you that I was just thinking about.” Lynx said, feeling Nutsbe eyeing her with curiosity.

  Gator scratched his hand over his chin and considered her. “I’m guessing it’s about the last time Blaze, you and me were talking about Jack’s mission load.”