by Leigh Barker
Where was the nearest police station? She should know this kind of thing. It was her job. It used to be her job. Now her life depended on it. She was on New Hampshire, heading north-east. Think. Think. Ahead was Dupont Circle and beyond that was a police station. On U Street. No, V Street. What was that? A mile? She could do this.
She looked around and checked her rear-view. No sign of the SUV or any other vehicle following suspiciously. Not that she’d know what suspicious following looked like. They’d stay close. Or hang back. She had no idea, except from those same cop shows. But even predawn there was just enough traffic for there to be witnesses if anything occurred… went down. The correct vernacular. Cop shows again.
She knew she was rambling like a mad woman, but anything was better than letting her mind settle on her predicament. And thinking it did exactly that.
She’d made a serious error of judgement sending the assassin to eliminate the girl without consulting the board. She’d overreached her station and now it was going to bite her.
The organization wouldn’t have her killed, not for one stupid mistake. Except it wasn’t one, it was just the latest. It had been her idea to plant the Orbiter data on that druggy’s computer so the military would send a strike team to destroy it, eliminating any threat to the US and to the organization. A bonus would’ve been the madman in Korea being in the market for another delivery vehicle. It had seemed like a masterstroke. It had never occurred to her those fools would bring it back. The Koreans were screaming that they’d been tricked and wanted their money back. They wouldn’t get it of course, but if word got out, it would damage the organization’s otherwise pristine reputation.
That stupid probie mistake had been bad, really bad, but she’d decided to deny it, cover it up, point the finger elsewhere. Hofmann had seen through that in a heartbeat. That was what he did. Why he was Orpheus One.
Please, God, let me live long enough to put it right. She spoke the prayer out loud and heard how cracked and afraid her voice was. It made it worse.
She took a left onto Sixteenth and then a right onto V Street and just ahead was the two-storey police station. Cop cars, a flag and a dated seventies building, but it was a wonderful sight.
She pulled over, mounted the curb right in front of the blue doors, got out and ran. Seconds later she was in the building and not shot in the head as she’d expected.
A detective saw she was in distress and strode over from where he’d been standing at the main desk. “Can I help you, ma’am?” He put his hand on her arm to steady her. “I’m Detective Timothy Woods.”
She caught her breath and pulled herself together. She was safe now. “Thank you, Detective.” She looked around at the uniformed officers watching her. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”
He thought about it for a moment. “There are interview rooms here.” He pulled a face like he’d smelt something foul. “Not a good place to be after last night.” He saw her look. “The game, ma’am. It’s always bad after a big game.”
She had no idea what he was talking about, but didn’t care. She was safe.
“My office isn’t here; it’s up on Idaho.” He looked around. “But there’s no vomit and blood. Come with me. You’re safe now.”
He kept his gentle grip on her arm and led her back to the street door. “Take your car, ma’am? Mine’s out back.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “No lighting out there.”
She nodded emphatically. No lights. “Yes, of course.” The release from the gnawing fear left her euphoric. “I parked it in a hurry.” She pointed at the silver BMW half on the sidewalk.
“I’ll drive, ma’am,” Timothy said, and smiled. “You look a bit peaky.”
“Yes, of course.” It was good to be alive. “The keys are still in it.”
“We’re lucky, then.” The smile again.
The BMW crunched a little as it bounced off the sidewalk and back onto the road and she laughed. Relief.
“You relax now. It’s been a big night, Deborah,” Timothy said.
She leaned back into the leather seat. “It has. I can’t begin to tell you what I’ve—” She sat bolt upright. “How do you know my name?”
He glanced at her, the smile gone. “I guess you got me there.”
She grabbed the door catch.
“Ma’am, we’re doing thirty miles an hour. You’d just splatter all over the road. Hey, you sit back and enjoy the trip.” He pointed forward. “We’ll be passing the White House. You can pretend you’re a tourist.”
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice was cracked again.
“No need to fret. I’m not going to kill you or anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, there you have me again.” He smiled at her, but the playfulness was gone from his face, replaced by hard lines. “Caught me in a lie, just like my mom used to.”
“You’re not a police officer. Who are you?”
“I am a police officer, a detective, just like I told you.”
“Then what’s this? What is going on?”
“Ma’am, you know what’s going on.”
Her heart slammed in her chest. “I have money.”
“So do I.”
“Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”
He glanced at her, his eyes hidden in shadow. “I doubt that.”
“Name your price. Go on, I can pay.”
“You’re not thinking straight.” He raised a finger from the leather-covered steering wheel. “Nice car. A Seven, is it? Top of the range?”
“Of course.” She licked her lips. “You like the car? It’s yours.”
“Well, thank you, ma’am.” He reached down and opened the glove box. “The pink slip in here?”
“No.” Her mind was racing. Desperate. “It’s in my desk at home. I can give you a bill of sale. I have a pad in my bag.”
“Then you go ahead and write that up, ma’am.” He tapped the steering wheel. “I always did like these.”
She dragged her bag from the footwell and fought the catch for a few seconds before pulling out an A5 pad and pen. “Detective Timothy…?”
“Woods, ma’am. I told you that.”
“Yes, of course, stupid of me.” She started to write and then glanced up. “That’s your real name?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?”
She finished writing, folded the page and handed it to him. “Shall we go to my house now and get the documentation? It’s not far.”
He took the paper and put it in his breast pocket. “I know where it is, ma’am. Maybe later.”
“Then you’re going to let me go?”
“I can’t do that.”
“But you said… I made out a bill of sale. You said you liked the car.”
“I do, ma’am. And I thank you.”
“Then let me go.” Her voice was squeaking.
“I do that, ma’am, and the organization will come looking for me instead. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?” He glanced at her and the streetlight flickered on his face. “I’ve got a wife and a boy. Great kid.”
She slumped into the seat, all her strength drained and her mind tumbling in a red haze of fear.
“We’ve a way to go, ma’am. You should get some sleep.”
She saw a ray of hope. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“Don’t you go thinking like that, ma’am, it’ll just upset you.” He pointed off to the right. “Dawn’s coming soon. You’ll enjoy that. It’s going to be a lovely day.”
Ethan could barely believe his ears and had to force himself to speak calmly to the woman on the other end of the call. “Pakistan? You want me to go to Pakistan?”
“Not me personally,” the voice said.
He recognised SecNav’s PA, but couldn’t remember her name or even if he’d ever known it. “SecNav wants us to go?”
There was a long pause. “No, I’m just calling you at six in the morning and
sending you to Pakistan because I haven’t got anything better to do.”
Ethan had been married, but even if he hadn’t undergone the training, he would’ve known what that tone meant.
“Where do we fly from?” It wasn’t great, but it changed the direction of the discussion.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Another long pause. “Hey, I know, why don’t you fly from Anderson? It’s very convenient.” Silence for a beat. “And there is a plane waiting there for you,” she said, very, very slowly.
He tried another change of direction. “Stupid as it seems, I don’t know your name.”
“No. You don’t.” She ended the call.
That went well.
Gunny was checking that he hadn’t broken a nail, while the rest of the squad found important things to do. In the cramped Holiday Inn bedroom.
“Okay, you can all grin your heads off,” Ethan said. “Once.”
They obliged like a Cheshire cat in a hall of mirrors. Very disturbing.
“So we’re going to Pakistan,” Gunny said, killing the smirk. “Nice this time of year.”
“You know it’s a war zone, right?” Winter said.
“I do and I’d rather be there than in DC with all these politicians trying to find things to do to justify their six-figure salaries. And that something usually ends up with us and a shitty stick.”
“Copy that,” Winter said.
“When we leaving?” Loco said. “I’m hoping to get a look-see at that old guy sitting on a bench.”
They stared at him for several seconds while they tried to work it out.
“He means the Lincoln Memorial,” Smokey said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, that’s what I said. The old guy on a bench. Famous for something. Seen him in the movies lots of times. Thought I’d go and stand where the rich and famous have stood.”
“That old guy saved this nation and emancipated the slaves,” Winter said.
“I knew that,” Loco said, shrugged and crossed to the TV to find some sport.
“Don’t get settled,” Ethan said. “We’re leaving today. Right now.”
“Suits me,” Winter said, rubbing his chest. “Got shot more in our nation’s capital than in any firefight.”
“Yeah,” Gunny said, smiling. “Careless that.”
Winter squinted at him. “I was expecting the lookout downstairs to watch my six.”
“Got you good though, that civilian,” Gunny said. “That vest you were complaining about saved your ass.”
“Maybe, but Top saved all our asses.” He nodded at Ethan. “How’d you get in without the shootist seeing you?”
“Shootist?” Gunny said. “Shit, you’re definitely watching too many in-flight movies.”
“Saw him creeping up through the bushes to the south side.” He shrugged. “I came in through the north.”
Gunny glanced at him. “Don’t see that. I was watching the north and the east side.”
“You were,” Ethan said. “I was meaning to talk to you about that.”
“What?”
“You got rhythm.”
“That’s good to know I get invited to a dance,” Gunny said. “What are you saying?”
“You had to watch two sides.” Ethan shrugged. “You let yourself get into a rhythm. Most people do that when they have a repetitive task.”
“Most people isn’t me,” Gunny said and stood up from the edge of the bed. He took a long breath. “You saying you timed my movements?”
“Two minutes each window,” Ethan said. “Time enough to see what was on that side, and time enough to worry about what was on the other.” Now he stood up. “Don’t worry about it. Natural rhythm. Everybody has one.”
“Not me. Not us. Jesus. Am I slipping that much?”
“Comes to us all with advancing years,” Ethan said, and reached for his bag. “You’ll be drooling pretty soon.” He chuckled at his little joke and headed for the door. “Let’s go.”
Gunny stood where he was for several seconds and then shook his head. “You see me doing any more shit like that, Top, you kick my ass.”
“Wilco,” Ethan said.
“What’s the flight time to…” Loco frowned and then brightened. “Pakistan?”
“Eighteen hours and change,” Winter said.
“Cool. Catch up on my beauty sleep.”
“That horse has bolted,” Smokey said, and slapped him on the shoulder as he passed.
None of them had asked Ethan why they were going. And it didn’t surprise him in the least.
Hofmann finished buttoning the new shirt he’d taken from the pile of identical shirts in the dressing room and ran his fingers through his thin hair still wet from the shower. The phone on his desk was purring softly, but he let it be. He would dress properly first. Staff wouldn’t see him anything less than perfectly attired and in control.
He selected a dark blue tie from the rack and knotted it in the door mirror while he cleared his mind and let it fill with the moment, the sounds, the smells, and the sensation of now. People were getting excited about clarity of thinking, and a great many people of dubious character were making a lot of money from desperate individuals and those who didn’t know any better. He’d been stilling his chattering monkey since the time he’d spent as a young man in Tibet. He’d hated it, the poverty and the exploitation, but he’d come away with the ability to clear his mind of the trivia and see what is important. So it had been worth it. And in his clarity he could see that was a lie. But what was past was gone and could not be changed. A tree passed on a speeding train. Existing and then gone. He took a new jacket from the hanger and put it on slowly, experiencing every action, every sensation.
Now he was ready for the day.
The phone purred again as he sat at his desk with his back to one of the three wall-height windows. He picked up the phone as he positioned his pen holder in the middle of his desk.
“Sir?”
He recognised the speaker.
“Are you there?”
“No, the telephone just levitated from the desk.”
“Sorry, sir, I was just… you know… err…”
“Philip, I have a busy schedule today.” He gave him a moment. “And if you do not get to the point, you will have no schedule at all to worry about.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, sir…” He coughed. “I have done as you asked.”
“Which implies you had some choice in the matter.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. Get on with it.”
“I had our contact at the Pentagon feed intelligence to the right ears and your troublesome team is already on its way to Uri.”
“And you are wasting my time with this information because…?”
“No, sir. Yes, sir. I mean I would never waste your time, sir.” There was a rustling sound as he juggled the phone. “I thought you would want to know, sir, that I have re-tasked our assets in Northern Pakistan to intercept SecNav’s team with—”
“If you say with extreme prejudice, I shall have you fired and committed to an institution.”
“No, sir. I meant to say they will intercept them with… out delay.”
Hofmann put down the phone. He would have gotten rid of that annoying person long ago, had it not been for his exceptional talent, which may yet be called upon.
He picked up a red file his PA had put in the exact centre of his perfectly clean blotter pad. More trouble. But at least SecNav’s buzzing insects were dealt with.
The Contract
They’d expected to be flying in some shitty C-130 for the eighteen-hour flight to Pakistan. They got a Gulfstream C-37A. Bit of a waste, really, as they slept for the first twelve hours, having been up all night playing hide ’n seek in the bushes with Jimmy Detroit.
Ethan was reading through the package of information that had been waiting for him on boarding and looked up briefly as the plane touched down at Abu Dhabi for refueling.
“Hey, Top,” Loco said from somewhere to
wards the front, “we get to stretch our legs here and maybe find a bar?”
Ethan gave him the long answer. “No.” He went back to reading the file.
Loco looked around for support from the rest of the unit and got exactly none. He stood up. “Maybe there’s a bar in this rich man’s bus.”
“No bar,” Gunny said.
“Bound to be a bar, look at the place.”
“We’ll be on the ground in three hours,” Gunny said, glancing up from the western he was reading. “So no bar.”
“Copy that, Gunny,” Loco said, but didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll just have a walk about, then, and stretch my legs.”
“You stretch your legs all you want,” Gunny said. “And if stretching takes you near a bar, you go right ahead and get something.”
“That right?”
“Sure. A sarsaparilla.”
“You’re reading westerns again, aren’t you, Gunny?”
Gunny looked up again but said nothing.
“S’sparilla,” Loco said. And sat down.
“Got a bottle of duty-free in my bag,” Smokey said, without looking back from the window he was using to watch the guys on the tarmac.
“Hey,” Loco said, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “That right?”
“No.” Smokey turned and grinned at him. “Just messing with you.”
“You’re a lousy human being, you know that?”
“Mother loves me,” Smokey said.
Loco sat up so he could see over his seat. “His momma tell you she loves him, Gunny?”
Gunny didn’t answer.
Loco stood again and looked around.
“Where you going now?” Smokey said. “I hurt your feelings?”
“I’m going to get my gun. Cleaning it’ll give me something to do.”
“No gun,” Ethan said.
“We’re gonna need one before this gig is over,” Loco said.
Ethan looked up again. “You think I’m going to let you have a loaded weapon in a confined space without adult supervision, you’re living up to your name.”
The plane shuddered as it started to descend, and Loco sat down and fastened his seatbelt. By the time the Gulfstream took off, Loco was asleep again and stayed that way until it started to descend into Srinagar airport. He leaned over Smokey and looked out of the window as the plane touched down.
