C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable (24 page)

"I'll shoot, down," an elderly guard shouted. My assessment concluded they weren't really dangerous except by accident. None of these guards had ever shot anyone and weren't going to unless I made a threatening move and then it would be in reflex. I stood still, hands raised slightly over my head. As we stood frozen, I could feel someone approaching from behind me, and saw it in the guards' eyes. Then one of the guards began to smile, I spun blocking a downward strike to my head with his gun and slid behind him. My knife at his throat and my gun aimed back at the guards.

"Drop your guns on the floor and step back. Unlike you, I will shoot. And being a Kazak, I won't miss." I watched as they looked at each other. After a minute, the elderly man nodded and everyone put their gun down and stepped back. I put my knife away and punched "1" on my phone.

"What, Lynn?"

"Chances are I'm going to kill a lot of State Department guards before I die because that asshole you assigned to me didn't clear me. Tell Clare I'm sorry, but I told you never again after the Pentagon incident." I hung up. I backed up against a wall and waited. There was little else I could do. I was sure hoards of police were mobilizing to neutralize the Muslim terrorist in the lobby. I didn't feel sorry for the people I was going to kill-because they initiated the trouble-or me, just Clare.

Sure enough, a few minutes later police in riot gear began showing up in the entrance and further down the hallways.

"Drop you gun and you won't be hurt," a voice from a mega phone blared.

"Drop yours and none of you will be hurt," I answered, scanning for my best defensive positions. It didn't look good. I could kill six or seven but I had no place to exit and would die. I spotted a sniper down a hallway and caught the laser targeting light moving across the wall towards me. I moved my captive in the way. Then phones began to ring everywhere. It was like some cartoon, all these men trying to juggle their guns while reaching for their phones.

"This is Major Gibbson. Everyone lower your weapons. There has been a mistake. The Kazak is not a danger. Lower your weapons, immediately. Repeat the Kazak is not a danger." I'd bet Witton would disagree. A tall man came striding across the lobby toward me. He had his weapon holstered, so I let go of my captive. He staggered a few steps before he gained his balance.

"You bitch, I'll kill you," he screamed.

"You already tried that, remember?"

The Major waved him away. "There appears to have been a mistake. The guards should have been notified of your arrival and the protocol for dealing with a Kazak. On the other hand, you should have been more cooperative." He didn't smile, so I didn't.

"I was. I didn't shoot anyone. You can tell Harrington he's an asshole and I wish whoever issued the fatwa luck." I turned and walked out the door past twenty or more SWAT police.

"The State Department has lodged several complaints against you." Witton held up his hand before I could respond. "I've subsequently informed them that neither the State Department nor any of their foreign diplomats would ever be assigned another Kazak. It will be interesting to see the repercussions. Would you have killed anyone?"

"It was the Pentagon all over again. I told you then, the next one that touched me would die. They wouldn't call Harrington, and they wouldn't let me leave. One tried to smash me in the head and eventually someone would have taken a shot. They had at least one sniper present. Yes, I would have. Perhaps I'm unstable and the Committee should retire me."

Witton sat looking at me for a long time, as he sipped on his coffee. I sat drinking mine at peace with myself. "Go see Clare. You have a couple of month's vacation accumulated. You've caused an earthquake and a Tsunami is coming. And there is no telling the ramifications. It'll certainly impact more than just you.

***

Ann Marie booked me first class to Denver. I had told Clare I was coming in good health and no stories, although I did have one but I wasn't sure if we could or should print it. Clare was waiting at the checkpoint when I exited.

"You look alright," she said, giving me a critical once over.

"I'm hurt. No 'nice to see you, love'. No hug and a kiss..." I rattled on. She smiled and grabbed me in a bear hug, giving me a kiss on the cheek. We weren't ashamed of kissing in public, but had decided long ago it wasn't worth the reactions it tended to provoke. A warm hug felt as satisfying as a passionate kiss.

"I'm sorry, but you aren't always completely honest. Not that I don't think you love me, but why the visit? It's only been a couple of months and you're not hurt." She laughed.

I waited until we arrived at the condo to tell her about the incident at the State Department. She went stony-faced throughout the entire time and tears ran down her cheeks. Afterward, she pulled me to her, unaware of how hard she was squeezing.

"Damn, you. Damn you, Lynn. I understand but it scares me to death. I'm glad Witton sent you home. Maybe I can love some sense into you. I can kind of see what Witton is thinking. It's easy for the various government agencies that use Kazaks, to say that they just got in the way, and we can do without them. It would be another thing not to be able to depend on their help. What a story this would make!" Clare leapt off the couch, almost knocking me to the floor.

***

I spent the next day with Clare, Executive Editor, Sean Harrison, and the Managing editor, Harry Wilson, discussing the proposed article.

"I would think printing those events would cause you more trouble than it's worth. The government can be very vindictive. They will claim it was an unfortunate incident that I should have submitted to the guards, who had every right to be alarmed." That wasn't what happened; however, it sounded reasonable and who could prove different. I had convinced Sean and Harry, when Clare changed tactics.

"Lynn's right. But what if we say it's a woman and point out this is the second time they have abused her." Clare went on to describe the incident at the Pentagon and the fact that she was at the State Department at their request. Sean and Harry liked the idea, but they and I were walking on dangerous ground. The Post and Clare could be stepping in between a Tsunami and a volcano eruption.

"I would appreciate you letting me get approval before you print anything. So far everyone has been pleased with the articles on the unknown Kazak. I would hate to jeopardize any future articles and see the Post hurt in any way. Unless my boss is wrong, this is a clash between Titans." I had crashed the HIAB vehicle and hazardous waste was looking for someplace to land. I didn't want it landing on Clare.

For the next three days, Clare stayed home and worked almost non-stop from early in the morning to late at night. I made her coffee and lunch, answered an occasional question, and ordered in our dinner. Finally, that afternoon she turned her laptop towards me and sat back with a smile.

"It's ready for your approval, my love," she said with twinkling eyes and a wicked looking smile. I poured myself a large coffee and began reading. It was a clever approach, proving what I had always known-she was a talented person and had earned her present position with the Post. She described a woman Kazak being assaulted by male guards who should have known better and who made no attempt to verify that an Assassination was in progress. She described the incident in all its gory details-leaving out the beating I gave them. Then pointed out the State Department had requested a Kazak to protect one of the executives yet didn't notify the guards. Without saying it, the article implied total incompetence or willful vindictiveness for the woman.

"Wow. Remind me never to get you mad at me. I think it may fly. You have masterfully sidestepped the Kazak versus State Department debate and put it on a more personal level-government knee-jerk and macho reactions." I called Witton.

"Boss, how are things going?" Thought I should approach this through the back door.

"It's been quiet on the surface. The State Department did report that a person entered the building with an unauthorized weapon, which created a minor incident that was quickly resolved." He gave a small laugh. "Like calling Vietnam a routine police action. But I think something big is going on behind the scenes. So stay put. The Committee has put a hold on all assignments for the government. I suspect this is going to result in Committee Rules."

"Boss, Clare has written an article on the incident, which I would like you to show the Committee. She won't print it without your approval. I'll send it to your email, encrypted."

"Alright. Understand that I won't forward it unless I feel it's in the best interest of the Kazaks. Clare, please don't print it without approval. Although my main interest is the Kazaks, I don't want you or Lynn hurt."

"I won't," Clare said and Witton hung up. Over the next two week, the stakes escalated. The Committee authorized Clare's article, which went national within two days. The State Department's PR fired back saying they didn't need Kazak's to protect their people. Their security was in fact better. The Kazaks had been forced on them. Five days later Assistant Secretary Harrington was assassinated along with three of his security detail. Four days later Wiki Leaks disclosed emails from an Assistant Secretary Royston detailing Israeli's stance refusal to stop the encroachment into disputed Palestinian territory. He had fired back that the Jews and the Muslims were all terrorists and we'd be better off burning all the Torahs and Korans and replace them with Christian bibles. The State Department refused to comment and then Royston disappeared. Three days later, it was reported that Royston was dead. It was rumored, his detail had shot him. Sounded to me like someone had hired an Assassin-a Liar. The next day, Witton called.

"You can come home, the situation has been resolved. The State Department has withdrawn the complaints against you, although I doubt they shredded them. But as part of the agreement, the Committee agreed to place a reprimand in your file. It reads:

"The Committee feels that Lynn the Fox should have shown additional restraint when confronted by State Department security, even though they didn't. The incident could have been avoided, if the State Department hadn't been negligent and informed security of her arrival. We feel that Lynn did exercise extreme restraint by not escalating the confrontation. We are pleased with her subsequent moderation in her interview with Clare Frazer of the Denver Post. Ms. Frazer is to be complimented for her excellent article describing the background leading up to the incident.

"That's a reprimand?" I expected a reprimand and more. Even Clare felt I had over reacted, although her article demonstrated she understood.

"The Committee won, and it satisfies the agreement reached with homeland security. From now on, any Kazak only need show their tattoo to be granted general access to any government facility. Security may verify your authenticity by calling a number in this office. It will ask for a password, which will be typed in on the phone. The Kazak's picture will then be displayed-simple but effective. A memorandum has been sent to the appropriate agencies. You dodged the bullet. The Committee is pleased because they won a major concession. A shootout would have had an entirely different outcome."

"I guess that makes me the most hated Kazak in the country?"

"I suspect you have moved up on the government shit-lists. Although now that Raifah al-Ayyub is returning to the US and has requested a Kazak named Lynn as part of her security, I believe you've made number one on all the State Department's lists."

***

I stood on the Tarmac scanning the area while waiting for Raifah al-Ayyub to exit the Libyan aircraft. The Diplomatic Security team leader stepped up beside me. I knew because he had been watching him direct activities for the past hour. He was in his early thirties, curly brown-hair, with an all-American look, and trim.

"Good morning, Kazak Lynn. I'm Tony Mattell, the team leader of the Diplomatic security team. May I see your tattoo, please," he asked with what looked like it might be a smile. The please was a nice touch. I pushed back my sleeve, which had a throwing knife attached. What no well-dressed lady would leave home without. He ignored it and turned his head to get a better look.

"Very nice. I've never actually seen one before. Certainly hard to steal." He did smile this time. "Fox?"

"We are each given an animal name based on our predominate skill. Most are Tigers, Lions, Panthers, or Cheetahs." During my explanation, he dialed our number and handed me the phone. I typed 568325273 (love Clare) on the dial and my picture appeared. I handed him back the phone.

"Sorry."

"Don't apology for doing your job. I don't."

"How do we work together on this detail?"

"We don't. You do what you're used to doing and I do the same," I said. When he frowned, I decided to be nice-sort of. "You're good at what you do. I've been watching you secure the area and position your team. And I'm good at what I do. If we made an attempt to coordinate, we'd both screw up. Raifah has two personal bodyguards, Jaffar and Nasser. While she is here, I'm her third and primary bodyguard." Just then, Raifah exited the plane with two guards behind her. She was a striking woman, tall with an olive complexion, midnight-black hair, green-gray eyes, high cheek-bones, and full lips. When she had cleared the steps, I stepped forward.

"Assalaam Alaikum Raifah al-Ayyub," I said, the typical Peace be upon you greeting, and made a small bow.

"Wa Alaikum assalaam," she replied with a nod. "It is good to see you again, Lynn. I hope you don't mind that I asked for you."

"No, Raifah, I'm quite honored. Most clients are glad to see the end of me," I quipped only half in jest.

She turned to her reception party, which included an interpreter. After a lot of bowing and scraping, we entered the second of several limousines. Her entourage included her two private guards, several diplomatic security people, a variety of diplomats, and me. She entered and waved her two private guards and me in next, then the two senior diplomats there to greet her. Surprisingly, her first stop was the Secretary of State. Much to the Secretary's disapproval, I followed Raifah in. She turned and waved Tony in. After an exchange of pleasantries, Raifah nodded in my direction.