The Powers That Be

7

Kate paused in her review of after-mission reports and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Even with all of the red tape we can cut through, the paperwork never ends. I don’t know how any of the normal agencies ever get anything done, she thought.

“You look like you could use a break.” Like magic, Mindy appeared in the doorway, holding a frosted glass. “I brought you some honeysuckle-lemon iced tea.”

“How do you do that?” Kate flipped the viewglasses up on her forehead as she accepted the cold glass. The tart-sweet liquid was heaven sliding down her throat, which she hadn’t even realized was dry until that moment.

“Do what?” Mindy asked.

“Read my mind when I need something.”

Mindy shrugged. “Suvi-Tuuli says it’s my gift, that I sense when people I care about are hurt or in distress, and try to help—that’s all.”

Suvi-Tuuli was Arminda’s Estonian grandmother. Kate had met the wizened woman once, and was still trying to decide if she was a contemplative philosophical genius, or simply buck-nuts batty. Whichever it was, at least the good side of her genes ran true in her granddaughter. “That’s why I hired you,” she said.

“What can I say, serendipity is a wonderful thing.” Mindy beamed, and Kate smiled with her, enjoying the pleasant moment.

The room’s silence was shattered by the clamor of multiple electronic devices going off. Kate grabbed for her cell phone and slid the glasses down over her eyes. “Yours or mine?” she asked.

Mindy checked her tiny phone. “Not mine. Laundry’s done and the Dr. G: Medical Examiner marathon is starting. If it’s okay with you, you’re on your own.”

Kate stared at her glasses, reading the message she didn’t want to see: “Incoming from Judy Burges.”

“Ah, crap. Go, get out of here while you still can. This might not be pretty,” Kate said.

Mindy slipped out of the room as Kate steeled herself for the call.

Judy’s handsome—no one would ever call her pretty—face appeared on the screen. She was pristine, as always, and stared at Kate like a disapproving nanny would regard a misbehaving child. How does she do that—she’s only five years older than me? Kate thought, trying not to squirm under the other woman’s stare.

“Judy, how are you?”

“Fine, Kate, thank you. I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss this afternoon.”

“Well—” Kate looked at the virtual pile of reports to review, and then there was a conference with Denny to follow up on that meth assignment, as well as a half-dozen other operations in progress that needed attending to.

I don’t have time to hand-hold my liaison right now, she thought, and then was instantly annoyed at her reaction. No, it’s better to deal with this now, rather than letting it fester.

“What’s on your mind?” she said pleasantly. She had the satisfaction of seeing an inkling of surprise cross the other woman’s patrician features, as if she had expected to be brushed off.

“There seems to be some confusion over the duties that people are carrying out in certain departments. I thought we should discuss it and see if we could clear things up a bit.”

“Please, go ahead,” Kate said.

“Simply put, a liaison is a person who facilitates communication between one group or office and another,” Judy stated.

“True, although I don’t have my dictionary handy to confirm the definition.” Kate’s attempt at humor fell faster than the first and last time she had tried to cook a soufflé.

“Quite. Regardless, in this case I think that the person designated as the liaison isn’t being allowed to perform her duties to the best of her ability.”

Kate had a master’s degree in psychology, but also knew when the time came to cut through the double-talk. “If I can summarize, you don’t think you’re being utilized effectively?”

To her credit, Judy’s expression didn’t change an iota, although her voice could have frosted glass. “Correct.”

“I see.” Kate raised her eyebrows. “Well, how would you like to see the situation changed?”

A lesser woman would have been caught off guard by the verbal lob, but Judy didn’t hesitate. “Kate, quite simply, you have a lot on your plate. Directors around the world answering to you, the board calling you at a moment’s notice—like this morning—”

“And I appreciated the heads-up there, too,” Kate said.

“You’re welcome, and that’s the perfect example of what I’m getting at. Over the past several months, I’ve seen a tendency, and I hope you forgive me for implying anything, for you to micromanage things.”

Instead of flying into a rage or cutting the other woman off with a cold retort, Kate grinned. “You’ve noticed, eh?” This time she was rewarded with an answering smile. Finally cracked that frosty reserve, she thought.

“It has come to my attention. A liaison isn’t any good if there is no one to liase between. Although I do admire your aggressive attitude toward this job, which is often exactly what’s needed. But there isn’t a need to take on everything. The board has chosen the best men and women from the top down, or else neither one of us would be here. I can help, if you’ll let me.”

“My God, you must have crushed your opposition at the Oxford debates,” Kate said.

“I was part of the Cambridge team, actually, but we did all right.”

Kate had the advantage in the conversation, since she had had varying versions of it with almost everyone she had ever known for more than a month or two. Some ended well, like the dialogue with her mentor at the CIA, Herbert Foley, who had been instrumental in her getting her current position. Others, like the colossal throw down with her then husband, Conrad, hadn’t ended nearly as well. But through it all, she had let others come to their own conclusions and then moved forward accordingly. Just as she had with Judy.

“While I understand where you’re coming from, my main concern is that I certainly don’t wish to be cut off from the directors or our operatives in the field,” she said.

“Naturally, however, like every other organizational structure, there is a chain of command. Operatives report to their directors, who would then report to HQ, such as it is. There the decision would be made to either handle a situation or bring in more oversight. I can certainly prepare action briefs, or whatever you would like to call them for your review, and of course, if you request a status briefing on a particular mission or region, then we’ll crunch the data and present you with whatever is needed, within reason,” Judy said.

“Don’t worry, Judy, the one thing I’m not is a power-mad office dictator, although sometimes it can be tempting.” Kate laughed.

“Then, of course, your decisions would flow down the chain, as well, to be disseminated as necessary,” Judy said.

Kate tried to minimize her triumphant smile. It wasn’t that she was gloating; everything Judy had said made sense. In a way, she wished they had had this conversation about eight months ago, since all of this could have been dealt with and over a long time ago. “I think we have an excellent way to move forward, and I’m looking forward to it. And I think I’ll also take you up on those summary briefs you mentioned. That sounds like a perfect way to start each morning.”

“Excellent.” Judy’s smile was genuine.

“There is one catch, however.”

“And that is?”

“I can’t promise I’ll adapt to this change right away. I’m more of a take-charge-and-charge-ahead kind of person,” Kate said.

“Of course, and indeed, there are times when the circumstances may warrant that. I would just hope that you would request assistance at the earliest opportunity.”

“I’ll do my best. So, speaking of intel flowing up the chain, how are things proceeding with Jonas’s cover?”

“What is the term the kids are using today? Ah, yes, he’ll be the dopest arms dealer in Florida.” Kate almost choked on her tea when she heard the slang come out of Judy’s flawless mouth. “The allocation-request program has been extremely useful in this regard.”

When Room 59 had been established, one of the tenets that had been struck was that its operatives could use anything from another agency, no questions asked, as long as the resource wasn’t slated for the agency’s own use at the same time.

“The DEA has a lovely luxury yacht that will serve our purposes very nicely,” Judy said.

“I’m sure Jonas will enjoy that, and our other operatives can get a bit of sun as the deck crew. You’ll make sure they’re all familiarized—” Kate trailed off when she saw Judy’s eyebrow rise. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s what I do.”

“I’ve already organized a list of operatives with the necessary experience and background to handle the ship. From the captain to the cabin boy, they will all be our people.”

“And the ordnance?”

“Oh, we’ve got something that is sure to pique the interest of any PMC that’s worth their guns. On loan from Defense, but they didn’t seem particularly thrilled about it, so we do have to get everything back to them intact,” Judy reported.

“Jonas will make sure it all goes out and comes back in one piece,” Kate said. Both women checked their watches. “He should be touching down about now, with Marcus greeting him at the airport. Say, Judy, did you ever get nervous when you were in the field?”

The British woman smiled. “Every time. But you learn to deal with it. I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with Denny on Jonas’s cover, and we’re putting together the regional comm cell to handle traffic. I’ll let you know when that’s set up, as well as let you know if anything else comes up in the meantime.”

“Great. And thanks for coming to see me. I appreciate it,” Kate said.

“You’re welcome.” Judy’s visage winked out, and Kate leaned back in her chair, sighing with relief. Much better than I had expected.

A shadow at the door made her look up. Mindy stood there, her hand over the cordless phone. “Remember that message I gave you? About you-know-who?” Kate’s blank look spurred the college student on. “Conrad—the paperwork—you were supposed to call him back.”

Kate let her head thump back against the top of the chair. She pointed at the phone. “Of course. Let me have that so he can let me have it in general.” If it isn’t one thing, it’s another, she thought as she raised the phone to her ear. “Conrad?…I wish I could say the same….”

8

Jonas leaned back in his business-class seat and drained the last swallow of complimentary champagne, which he had specifically requested be brought to him before they came in on their final approach. A trim, neatly dressed flight attendant approached, and he handed the empty glass to her.

“Will there be anything else, Mr. Heinemann?” she inquired, using his cover name for this part of the mission.

“Nein, danke.” He settled back in his seat and looked out the window, watching the endless, blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean give way to the bustling metropolis of Miami. Ninety miles south, not visible, but its presence felt all the same, was Cuba. An impossible distance for some, Jonas thought, and a lifetime away for others.

June 19, 1973

THE SLENDER WOMAN LED them through the thick jungle to an abandoned sugar mill that must have been a hundred years old. Its ramshackle buildings were overgrown with jungle foliage, vines and colorful flowers slowly reclaiming the entire area.

Jonas limped in, leaned his G3A3 sniper rifle against the wall and sat down on a pile of canvas sacks before the young woman could say anything. A squeal erupted from the cloth as a half-dozen angry rats boiled out of it and scurried around him, chittering all the while. The rest of the team took up positions around the perimeter while his team leader probed Jonas’s injury with gentle fingers.

“It’s nothing, sir. I can continue with the mission.” Jonas tried not to gasp as his leader pressed on his ankle, sending a bolt of pain through the rest of his foot.

“We cannot risk you slowing us down going there or back. You will have to remain here while we head out.” Reinmann stood and turned to the woman, explained the situation and told her to remain, as well, that the team would be in touch once they had ascertained whether Safedy was actually where their contact had said he would be. Then he signaled to his team, and the group melted into the forest, gone in seconds.

With a hangdog expression Jonas watched them go. He tested his foot, but even sitting, the moment he put any weight on it, pain lanced up his leg, and he bit back a groan.

The young woman returned to stand over him, her arms crossed. “Shouldn’t you remove your boot?” she asked.

“If I take it off, the swelling will make it impossible to get back on again. Also, it is holding my foot in place, more or less, so there is less chance of causing further damage.” He eyed her, sensing her displeasure. “Believe me, I’d rather not be sitting around uselessly. I should be with my team right now, not—” he waved at the ruins around them “—stuck here.”

She nodded, then knelt by him. “Your government must want this man very much, to come all this way for him.”

Jonas’s eyebrows rose at what she knew, although he figured that their contacts here wouldn’t have let them in unless there was a damn good reason. Apparently Cuba had enough of its own problems that its people didn’t want an international terrorist holing up in their country. “What he and the rest of those animals did was unforgivable.” His eyes narrowed as a thought struck him. “Do you know the story?”

She shrugged. “The government tells us only what it thinks we should know, particularly about the outside world.”

“Then let me.” He related the story of the Summer Olympics and the invasion into what was supposed to be the world coming together in peace and celebration as the best athletes competed against each other. Jonas spoke of the Black September members, and how they took eleven of the Israeli athletes hostage, killing two of them in the Olympic Village. Even though the hurt was still relatively fresh, he told of the botched interception attempt at the airport, which left the nine remaining hostages, five terrorists and a German policeman dead.

“That is why I am here now. My unit was created to prevent something like that from ever happening again.” He’d heard rumors that the Israelis were sending their own agents to track down and kill the organizers in the Middle East, but kept that information to himself.

“But to send you and the others on such a dangerous mission. You are just a boy.”

“I am older than you,” he said.

Her smile was shy. “Perhaps.”

“Besides, from what I’ve heard about your country, your government trains children from the time they are little, indoctrinating them into an obedient, programmed state of mind to follow the orders of the people in charge.”

“Much like the Nazis and their Hitler Youth guard of World War II, yes?” the woman said.

Jonas didn’t have a comeback for that one.

“But what you say is true, unfortunately. That is why I’m here, risking my life to stop this madman so we can get help against—” She trailed off and cocked an ear, listening to the jungle.

Jonas took the cue and strained his senses, too, trying to catch what had put her on guard. Then he realized it—the animals in the surrounding foliage had gone quiet. Even when the team had been there, the area was filled with the noises of insects, birds and other nocturnal animals. Now they could be heard in the distance, but the nearby cacophony had suddenly gone still, as if the creatures were hiding—or fleeing.

Then he heard a completely different sound—the distant growl of a rough-running engine. Jonas and the woman exchanged glances. “Come on!”

She grabbed his hand and tugged, trying to pull him to his feet. Snatching up his rifle and pack, Jonas managed to get up on his good foot and was surprised when she slipped her head underneath his shoulder. “I can manage,” he said.

“Uh-huh, I watched you on the way in. No talk, just walk.” Together they hobbled out of the ruined sugar refinery and into the nearby jungle. Just as they edged into cover, pushing broad leaves aside, weak yellow light flooded the clearing.

“Down!” Jonas dived to the ground, taking her with him. She struggled free of him, but remained close, her smooth forehead now smudged with dirt. Eyes blazing, she didn’t say anything, but simply watched what unfolded before them.

A large, olive-drab truck came to a stop in the middle of the area. It had barely halted before a dozen men poured from the back, all dressed in military fatigues and carrying AK-47s. They fanned out and searched the area, covering every inch of ground. Jonas held his breath as a man swept past only a few yards away. Two of the men entered the tumbledown building, rifles ready in front of them.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.