Agent of Influence: A Thriller (46 page)

             
Now, a few hours later, Jamal was putting the finishing touches on his little trap when the slam of the front door startled him. He grabbed his binoculars and saw a man exit through front door of the house. Jamal followed him as he broke into a light jog.
Was this guy an idiot
? What was he doing stepping foot outside the armed palace of the Director? He adjusted the binoculars to get a more focused view. The trees surrounding him were chopping his viewing time into tiny segments, and he wanted to be sure. He watched a few seconds longer before making up his mind. It was definitely the man who had been sitting in the driver’s seat of the car parked outside his dad’s house.

He slowly maneuvered
out of his hiding place, and moved from tree to tree as quietly as possible. The fresh snow from the previous evening cushioned the noise his feet were making. The jogger did not even glance into the woods once. Not that he would have been able to see anything. The jogger was either extremely arrogant or an idiot. Jamal’s senses were in full motion now, and he felt like he was back in the Special Forces again. He always felt at peace when he was stalking someone. It was a power trip. The hunted had no idea what was about to hit them.  After twenty minutes Jamal made his way to the edge of the street and found a suitable striking point to wait for the man to complete his circuit around the street.

***

Alex’s chest heaved as his body struggled to filter the cold January air. He was almost back to the house. He decided he would try his best to enjoy the day of safety. He would let the professionals deal with the wackos today. He had an uneasy feeling about what they were walking into though. Before heading out for his run he flicked on the monstrous plasma TV in the living room to find every cable news network blaring the same story in constant repetition. The President-Elect called an impromptu press conference this morning where he fired Malcolm.

No wonder they left so early in the morning. Alex continued trying to formulate what their next ste
p might be. Malcolm seemed to have something up his proverbial sleeve. He had discussed it with President Gray in the wee hours of the morning, however Alex would have to wait to find out what it was. He rounded the bend in the street, and Malcolm’s giant wooden palace came into view. Fifty yards from the house he picked up his pace, determined to finish strong. The dense forest of trees stood just a few feet away. He suddenly heard a burst of motion from the forest, like a rabbit darting from its hiding place. Before he knew it his feet were swept out from under him. He started to yell as he began to fall to the ground.

***

The yell was cut off as Jamal’s meat
y paw pounded the man’s head onto the cold, frozen earth beside the road, knocking him unconscious. He quickly dragged the man’s body into the woods like a lion hiding his massacred prey, and then ran six minutes up the street to retrieve his pickup truck. He had left it parked in the next driveway, which happened to be a mile down the road. A flash of his federal badge was all it took for the neighbor to agree to let him park it there. The constant string of feds was a way of life for the closest neighbor of the CIA Director. Jamal drove back, loaded Alex’s limp body into the back, and covered it with a tarp. Before leaving he quickly disassembled his trap, and gathered up his arsenal of weapons. The death of Malcolm Ray would have to wait.

Anna stared out the backseat window as they drove up Massachusetts Avenue. They were passing through Embassy Row, where every building was the home of a country’s ambassador. The homes were a slew of different styles; the size of each home often times corresponding to the country’s power and influence.  She gazed with amusement to her left as they passed the Egyptian embassy. It was a three-story cream-colored brownstone home built at the beginning of the twentieth century. A little further up the road was the Brazilian embassy, a three-story glass building, which stood on concrete stilts. Its contemporary construction the exact opposite of the last block of buildings they passed.

T
wo blocks further and on their right was a building that looked like an old warehouse that was no longer in use. There was no sign indicating which country it belonged to, and frankly she did not blame them. She would not want to take credit for the dilapidated structure either. Finally, they were almost to their destination. The last building they passed was the massive compound belonging to Great Britain.

A long, tall, wrought iron fence was the first si
gnal that they were approaching the vice-presidential residence. The fence was on their left, and it ran until it disappeared around a bend further up the street. It encircled the acreage of the Naval Observatory, and was the first line of defense for the massive compound, which sat at the top of a hill on the southeast side of the estate. She exchanged a weary look with Malcolm as they pulled up to the main entrance of the U.S. Naval Observatory. There was no going back now. She knew that once they passed through those gates, if they were wrong, they would either be dead or going to jail for a long time. 

Malcolm’s bodyguard deftly eased
the bulk of the armored SUV around the circular driveway and up to the gated entryway of the U.S. Naval Observatory grounds at the corner of 34
th
Street and Massachusetts Avenue. A three-foot tall, thick metal wall protruded from the concrete driveway, blocking the entrance. It was used to stop anyone from trying to careen onto the grounds. The wall vanished into its hideout in the ground as they slowly crept up to the guarded entrance. The guard waived them through with a cursory glance. He had been expecting them.

They started up the concrete driveway. The normal cornucopia of flowers that surro
unded the driveway was absent due to the frigid temperatures. They stopped at the top of the hill and parked the vehicle in the massive circular driveway that sat in front of the century-old, white brick Victorian home that served as the vice-president’s residence. At the moment, it was Aman’s base of operations for the final few days of the world’s oldest peaceful transition of power. A
lone Secret Service agent stood at the covered entrance, watching them like a sentinel.  Malcolm stepped out of the back of his personal vehicle, and Anna followed close behind him. He felt relaxed and could not suppress a slight smile. Anna retained the role of the taciturn field officer.  The purse slung over her right shoulder contained all the trappings that a beautiful woman would carry with her to work, and one deadly weapon that looked completely out of place.

             
The morning had progressed perfectly for them up to that point. One of Malcolm’s bodyguards woke them up early to show them the press conference that was underway. The perfect excuse to make a call to the President-Elect’s inner circle was dropped right into their lap. Malcolm immediately seized the phone while the press conference was still going on. Zach Hardin looked even more haughty and self-confident than usual as he spent fifteen straight minutes listing a litany of abuses that Malcolm and the CIA perpetrated against him. 

After twenty minutes of being shepherded from one aide to the next Malcolm finally got Aman on the line, and began vigorously complaining about not being given prior knowledge of his dismissal. He even impressed himself with his feigned anger. Aman played the role of the perfect statesman and presidential confidante. He agreed to meet with Malcolm to see if they could come to some sort of mutual arrangement. Aman expressed a desire to put the situation to rest as quickly as possible. The last thing they needed was a distraction that created animosity between the administration and the CIA. Ther
e had been enough bickering within Mr. Gray’s administration which had been running the show for the last four years, and Aman wanted Zach to start off on a positive note.

             
The agent’s right hand shot up as if he were a bored traffic cop, indicating for them to stay on the front steps. He spoke in muffled tones into the lapel of his sport coat, and after receiving a response they could not hear he turned to them and said, “You were supposed to come alone.” The agitation in his voice was evident.

             
“She’s in our Operations Department. I have a few other items I need to discuss with the President’s aid. Some loose ends they need to know about before I get the hell out of this town.” Malcolm continued to play the part of the disgruntled employee.

“All weapons stay outside.” The black holes of the agent’s sunglasses turned toward
s Anna. She offered the purse without a fight. He extracted the weapon, promising to give it back to her when they left. “You can go in. Aman is in the den at the back,” the agent said as he smoothly opened the door for them. He placed the pilfered weapon inside his navy blue sport coat.  They eagerly hurried through the proffered door.

             
The huge house was silent until the sound of motion came from the back, right-hand corner. President Gray’s vice president had already moved out of the house, and only those items that were a permanent fixture of the Naval Observatory still remained. It looked more like a tourist attraction at the current moment than a home. They followed the sound of the noise to the back of the house. They soon found the door leading to the den, and entered without knocking.

Aman was standing with his back to them. He was be
nt over an L-shaped oak desk, shuffling through a disheveled stack of papers. He appeared to be looking for something. “Have a seat. I’ll be with you in just a second,” Aman said. He seemed to find what he was looking for a few seconds later and held up a single sheet of paper like it was the final clue to a puzzle. He turned to face them. The look of shock on his face only lasted a split second, but they both recognized it. The stare focused on Anna.

“Excuse me
, I’m feeling a little tired. I need to sit down.” His large frame maneuvered around the desk and plopped down in the comfortable chair. She was the woman from Las Vegas, he silently thought.  The woman Zach tried so desperately to seduce. His fears were realized. She was a spy after all.  If she was with Malcolm, he assumed she must work for the CIA, as well.

             
“Feel better?” Malcolm looked on in disgust at the fat Arab. He could barely fit in his chair. The two armrests looked to be under a great deal of pressure from his bulge. They may need a shoehorn to get him out of the chair, Malcolm thought. Aman reminded Malcolm of the decadent sheiks who ran Saudi Arabia, who preached Islam by day and hosted orgies by night.

“Yes, thank you. I’m
sorry about this morning Malcolm, but it was Zach’s idea. He insisted on cutting you loose immediately. The little illegal investigation that you ran for President Gray didn’t seem to be coming to a halt, and he thought this was the only way to get your attention. As usual he was correct.” Aman’s voice beamed with pride for his protégé.

             
“Yes, I guess I should have figured that you wouldn’t keep me on. How goes the transition of power?” Malcolm asked flippantly. He looked casually around the room until his eyes fell on an open side door that led into the huge kitchen. On the floor of the kitchen were several huge suitcases lined up and ready to go.

“Busy, but no complaints. It will all be over in a few days,” Aman spoke with assurance.

              “Of course. I hope Zach is not nervous about his inauguration speech.” Malcolm was enjoying the pathetic attempt at small talk they were both making. It was clear that Aman was edgy. Whether it was simply the pressure of being in power or something else, he intended to find out in due course.

Aman’s pat
ience quickly ran down to empty. “What the fuck do you want, Malcolm? I haven’t got all day. Do you want to work out some sort of deal so we don’t hang you with an indictment in a few weeks?” His eyes flicked back and forth between Malcolm and Anna, looking for a reaction from either one of them. They could not possibly know enough to stop them now, especially this late in the game.

Malcolm simply shrugged his shoulders. Aman thought the CIA Director was enjoying himself too much. The antics suggested one of two extremes. He
either thought Malcolm had pushed himself to the limit and was going down in flames, or he had pulled off a last second miracle. Aman would have felt much more comfortable were it not for the fact that Malcolm had paid a visit to their Jewish friend the previous night.

              Aman continued, “I see your little game. You beg me for a meeting and then pretend that you are doing me a favor by coming to see me?  All I can promise is that I will have a talk with Zach for you. We may be able to work out a deal where we don’t press serious charges. We have more pressing matters to deal with, and we don’t want the distraction. We have a war to end.” Aman began stacking the papers on the desk into several neat piles. “Who is the woman?” He tossed out the line as if she were not in the room.

             
“This is one of my best people in our Operations Department. Her name is Marilyn.” Malcolm chose to use her code name from the mission. At Malcolm’s heeding she grudgingly stepped forward and shook Aman’s hand. Malcolm continued, “She has been working on a few very important projects for me; projects that I think Zach needs to consider continuing after I’m gone. I thought perhaps we could cut a deal, as you suggested before. My final operation gets to stay afloat and I promise to keep my mouth shut, at least for a while,” Malcolm replied as the mischievous grin reappeared. The time was almost right. He was looking forward to Aman’s reaction.

“That doesn’t
sound like a fair deal to me. The last time I checked, you were the one looking at some jail time. You spooks are all the same. You think you are above the law.  Considering your last investigation was against Zach, I’m curious to find out what you think you have that is important enough to warrant this clearly imbalanced trade.” Aman was now watching them closely. The woman stepped forward, accepting a manila envelope from Malcolm that appeared from the inside of his brown tweed blazer.  She extracted a photo and placed it on the table in front of Aman.

“Feel free to keep that copy
, Aman. I have several others stashed away in case of theft or damage,” Anna said matter-of-factly.

             
Aman picked up the picture and held it with just his thumb and pointer finger like it was on fire and about to burn his fingers. The symbol was quite recognizable. He would know since he had one on his leg, as well. He gently laid the photo down, his eyes blazing unrestrained hatred at them as his breathing became more pronounced.  “What are you trying to pull with this?” The friendly campaign manager quickly revealed a fiery temperament.

             
“You know what that is, don’t you? And don’t play games.” As she talked Malcolm moved to close and lock the side door to prevent any unwanted guests from entering. 

“Of course. You’re
a CIA agent running an illegal operation inside the country. You are also the whore that Zach was obsessed with in Las Vegas. I should have known his dick would eventually get him into trouble.  I was concerned from the beginning when he started talking about a new girl he wanted to get his hands on. I should have known it was trouble when he refused to say where he met you. If you don’t mind, how did you meet him?”

Anna laughed, “You should have kept him away from the strip clubs. The man has a problem. All it took was one dance
, and I had him hooked.” She reveled in taunting him. The Washington grapevine was full of stories of Aman warning his protégé to stay away from the seedy side of Las Vegas, but all the warnings were to no avail. Zach thought that because he was widowed he had carte blanche when it came to his sexual dalliances.

             
“Back to her original question, Aman. What is the photo of?” Malcolm was annoyed with the tangent their conversation had taken. She was already revealing more than she should.

“Why don’t you tell me? It’s j
ust a hairy leg with a tattoo as far as I can see. It looks like some Arabic symbols to me, but I haven’t studied the language in years. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

Anna ignor
ed the obvious lie, and extracted another photo from the envelope and laid it on the table. Aman looked at the youthful version of himself in the old black and white photo, standing with pride, while surrounded by his loyal entourage. His two holy warriors seated below him. Where did this come from? And most importantly, how could they have found a copy of it? He tried to fidget in his chair, but the expanse of his body rubbed against the armrests, making it difficult to move. His eyes roamed back and forth between the two photos. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Malcolm paced around the perimeter of the room, closing the wooden blinds so they could no longer see the expansive, lush green fields of the acreage encircling them.