Edge of Tomorrow (15 page)

“This is a secure call, Uri, so you can call
me Hatch, as usual. No, it has nothing to do with your bill! I
wouldn’t dare get involved in things like that. I have a favor to
ask. If it violates your security protocol, please feel free to
tell me so,” replied Hatch.

“Well, ask, and we will see,” was the
reply.

“I was involved in an incident today, and
some of the facts don’t make sense. I thought you might help me
sort it out. At lunch today, a woman was attacked for no apparent
reason by two Mideast goons. Although she took very good care of
herself in the melee, I had to step in and lend a hand. To make it
short, those two are now dead, so they cannot be questioned. Our
FBI lost the trail of four Iranians two days ago. So, what I am
wondering, are the two incidents related? These two seemed to be
following the woman, but why? Why was she attacked? And by whom?
The woman’s name is Sydney Steppe, if that helps,” Hatch
finished.

There was a long silence on the other end.
For a moment, Hatch thought maybe the connection was broken, which
would have been very unusual on his satellite phone.

“Uri, are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes. I was digesting what you just told me,”
Stein answered. “I am not sure how to respond. You are no longer
with the Company, but you are still a very powerful man. You must
help protect this woman, Sydney Steppe. She is in grave danger, and
it is my fault. Since the Iranians have found her, I guess I can
tell you some of the situation. This is strictly private, of
course. Sydney, until three months ago, was a Professor at Tel Aviv
University. That was her cover. She has worked for the MOSSAD for
the last three years, but not under the name Steppe, of course. On
our books, she is known as Anna Klein. She taught at TAU under the
name of Dr. Sydney Steppe. Unfortunately, I had a double agent who
sold us out and gave up the names and covers of two of our best
agents. Anna Klein was one of them. It happened on my watch, so I
feel responsible.”

“Whoa! Hold on a minute, Uri!
Now
I’m
on overload. You said
she was a Professor at TAU?” queried Hatch.

“Yes. She was on leave from Harvard, where
she taught before coming here. She had a personal agenda that you
will have to get her to explain. I am already saying too much. She
taught a course in Mideast culture, and several languages. She kept
that job while working for the MOSSAD. It was excellent cover for
her.” explained Uri.

Hatch was still stunned as he absorbed this
information. Then he asked, “What did she do for the MOSSAD?”

“She worked for Metsada.”

Hatch gasped. Metsada was the Special
Operations Branch of the MOSSAD. This group carried out highly
sensitive assassinations, among other counter-terrorist operations,
outside of Israel.

“She was an assassin?” blurted Hatch.
The skills and attitude he saw her display at
The Blue Grotto
started to make more sense to
him now.

“Yes, when she had to be. Our very best. That
is, until three months ago, when she had to retire and return to
the States to hide out. For three years she floated around the
Middle East like a specter, carrying out whatever assignments she
was given. Maybe she is as good as I once was,” Uri chuckled. “Of
course, we are not having this discussion. We officially do not
have assassins any more.”

“Of course not. Neither does the U. S., I
hear. Do you have any idea which group, or groups, are trying to
kill her?” Hatch continued, pushing for more information.

“There might be several, but for sure a group
calling themselves the Wrath of Allah. This is a group she really
concentrated on when her schedule allowed. Many throats were slit.
They want her badly. Whether the four Iranians you mentioned are
involved, I cannot say. When I get to the office tomorrow, I will
see what we have on the movements of that group,” Uri promised.

“I appreciate this, Uri. And I will keep her
safe. I have the power to do that, if she cooperates. Can I tell
her what you have told me? Perhaps then she will let me help
her.”

“If you must, but I would rather stay out of
it if possible. It might make her angrier with me. As I said, a
traitor gave her up on my watch. I feel responsibility for her
safety.”

“Can you tell me who gave her up?” asked
Hatch.

“His name would do you no good. He is
deceased.”

“Good. One less loose end. Let me give you a
number where you can reach me at any time, day or night. It is a
secure phone.”

He gave him the number and after a few
pleasantries, they both hung up. Hatch gave Bruno the highlights of
what he had learned about Syd, a.k.a. Anna Klein, and the Wrath of
Allah.

“Wow! That dish is an assassin? I would never
have guessed! Let me call the Triple Eye Antiterrorist Desk in
Virginia and tell them about the Wrath of Allah group. See what
they have. Also, maybe Danny’s pictures might have hit a match on
someone in our files,” said Bruno. He went to the secure phone at
the end of the table and started dialing.

Hatch was now in a quandary. He had to give
Syd protection until her hunters could be neutralized. How could he
broach the subject that he knew she was ex-MOSSAD? How angry would
she get when she found out that he had checked into her background?
He rationalized that he had not really been checking on her; he was
just trying to get a handle on her assailants. Uri had offered the
information about her so that Hatch would keep her safe. He would
have to play it by ear, and let his instincts take over.

She is as good as Uri was? He was one of the
best! She must be one dangerous woman! And a University Professor?
What a unique combination! And I only wanted to get a date with
her! What now?

• • •

Syd and Sara joined Hatch and Bruno in the
library and sat down opposite them at the conference table. Bruno
had a pad of paper in front of him; the top page was half-filled
with notes. Both men had drinks on cork coasters next to their
notes.

“Well, you sure look better now, Syd,” opined
Hatch, not missing the fact that she was braless. “Why don’t you
two fix yourselves a drink, then we’ll get started.”

Bruno looked at Syd with new respect, but
still enjoyed the bounce of her breasts as she walked to the
bar.

The women went to the wet bar and fixed
drinks. Syd switched to Diet Pepsi for now, still feeling the
effects of the drinks from lunch. They rejoined the men at the
conference table.

“All right, ladies. I’ve filled in
Bruno on what happened at
The Blue
Grotto
, from my perspective. I’ll bring you up to
speed a little later, Sara. Right now, there are some things I want
Bruno to do personally—right away. For your information, Syd, we
know four people with Iranian passports entered New York from
London two days ago. The FBI’s antiterrorist group did not
immediately identify them as known terrorists, so they let them
enter the U. S. However, by procedure, they put a tail on them. The
Iranians lost the tail in less than an hour and haven’t been seen
since. This could be one big coincidence, but that is why I didn’t
want you to go home right away, Syd. If those two were part of that
four, then there are still two more out there somewhere.

“The pictures Danny took of our two are
already in our ID System. There is a low probability that we will
get a match, however. So, Syd, we need your help. You said you had
never seen those two before, but I sensed that you might have known
why they targeted you. Am I right?”

Hatch paused at that point and looked into
her dark-brown eyes. She held his stare, noticing that his eyes
were a beautiful shade of hazel.

When she did not answer right away, Bruno
said, “Syd, if what Hatch has said is true, you are still in real
danger. We need any help you can give us so we can find these
bastards.”

Syd started to get a little angry. Why
were they interrogating her like this?
She
was the one who was attacked by two creeps
whom she did not
know
!
Honestly, however, she thought she had a good idea where those guys
were from and why they were here.

There’s something funny here. They’re acting
a lot like cops. Maybe I should just get up and leave. But they are
right. I am probably in great danger. More than they know. Let me
find out who they are before I tell them what I suspect.

She pushed back her chair and stood up.

“Look, Hatch. I owe you my life for what you
did today, but you guys are coming on like cops, or FBI, or
something! I would like to know who you people really are. You’re
trying to ID those guys; your driver here came to pick us up
wearing a weapon; you seemed awfully buddy-buddy with a homicide
detective. So, what gives?” she flared.

Hatch seemed taken aback at her outburst.
Sara and Bruno stared at her with their mouths agape.

Sara stood up next to Syd and said, “Christ,
Hatch! Didn’t you tell her who we were before you brought her here?
Come on, Syd, sit down. We really are your friends. Hatch, tell
her!”

Sara put her hand on Syd’s shoulder and
convinced her to sit down again.

“I’m so sorry, Syd,” Hatch said contritely.
“I was in such a rush to get a handle on those guys, that I
completely misjudged how our actions could be misconstrued.”

He took a sip of the drink in front of him
and continued.

“I am Chairman of the Board of a company
called Intelligence International, Incorporated—Triple Eye, we call
it. We are in the business of acquiring, processing, and analyzing
intelligence data for our various clients. Our major clients come
mainly from the government’s intelligence communities.”

“You mean, like the CIA?” Syd
interrupted.

“Yes, and many others. NSA, DIA, and so on.
I’ll give you an unclassified brochure to read later. One of our
departments pays special attention to the terrorist community. We
track terrorists from all countries, and we keep a computerized
data base of all those we identify. We are always trying to find
them so they can be neutralized. Brought to justice.”

“Kind of like the Israelis looking for Nazi
war criminals?” Syd interjected.

“Similar. Bruno here is the Chief of Security
in this part of the world. Sara is the Manager of the Florida
Office, among other duties. So, are you going to help us—and
yourself? We are in no way associated with any governmental law
enforcement group.”

Syd looked around the table, pausing to peer
into the eyes of each one. She was an expert at reading eyes. When
she had finished, she felt that they were no threat to her. They
really did want to protect her. She was not sure why.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘neutralized,’”
asked Syd, still seeking more confidence in this group.

“Just what the dictionary says.
We
render ineffective
those
whom we can.”

“You’re playing with words.”

“Each situation requires different solutions.
Sometimes we turn them over to the appropriate authorities—FBI,
police, military. Sometimes public disclosure is enough—their own
people eliminate them because of their failure. Sometimes they can
be neutralized like the two at lunch today,” Hatch said, dancing
around the answer she wanted to hear.

“OK. You’re still waltzing, but I can’t
expect you to tell a stranger more than that.”

“We did hear from our Antiterrorist Desk,
something about a group called Wrath of Allah. Does that mean
anything to you?” Hatch threw out the bait—a deliberate lie.

These people are good! How did they find out
about that group so quickly? How much more do they know? I think I
have no choice but to trust them. The MOSSAD can’t help me here.
The Wrath of Allah has already found me. I guess I could use help.
I have to be careful what I say, however, or I’ll have the MOSSAD
after me, too! I wonder if I should call Uri. But what could he do?
Nothing!

“All right, folks. I’ve decided to trust my
future—and maybe my life—to you. But first, I need your promise
that what I tell you in the next few minutes won’t leave this
room.”

Hatch said, “Agreed. I would like that to be
both ways. You will hear things and see things that must be kept
secret, also.”

“I also agree. So, let me bore you with the
short version of my life story, and what I am all about,” replied
Syd.

She stood again and started pacing once more.
They all watched her, waiting in silence to see what she would say.
Finally she began speaking in an articulate, well-modulated
voice.

• • •

Syd was born in March of 1968 in Los
Angeles—making her 33 years old as she told her story—and was
raised in and around Los Angeles and its suburbs. She entered UCLA
in 1986 and received her BA in History, with an Archeology Minor.
She stayed on for a year and received her Masters Degree in Mideast
Culture and Languages in 1990. She found that she had an affinity
for languages, hence her choice of her specialization area. Her
academic record was so exceptional that she was admitted to
Harvard’s Doctoral Program without any problems, and received her
Ph.D. in the same area of specialization and began teaching at
Harvard in 1992. She was the only woman, out of four total, to
receive a Ph.D. in her chosen specialty from Harvard in the last
ten years. Hence, her rapid rise in the teaching ranks at
Harvard.

At the end of 1996, she was invited to go to
Israel as a guest lecturer in Judeo-Arabic languages and culture at
Tel Aviv University. This was a great, career-enhancing
opportunity, so she took a year sabbatical from Harvard and
accepted the appointment. Since her parents had sacrificed so much
for her helping her through college, Syd took them with her on a
vacation so they could visit Israel, and other Mideast nations.
While her parents were touring, a terrorist bomb exploded on the
bus, killing nearly everybody on board, including her parents. The
Wrath of Allah took public credit for this bombing. Syd vowed to
avenge her parents’ death, although she had no idea how she would
ever do it. She did learn that the Wrath of Allah was based
primarily in Iran, so using her position as a visiting professor
from America, she got herself invited to various seminars and
conferences throughout the Mideast. She became a sought after
lecturer on “Thought and Change in the Middle East.” She was able
to do this, even though she was a woman (and not Arabic), because
of her exceptional credentials. She stumbled across her first
victim by accident. She was in a restaurant in an Iranian city when
she overheard a man boasting about his involvement in the bus
bombing in Israel. He also mentioned the Wrath of Allah several
times. She took the sharp steak knife from the table and slipped it
into her purse, and when he left, she followed him. She had no idea
what she was going to do, but when the crowd became thick, and
people were jostling each other, she found an opportunity and drove
the knife into his back and into his heart. She disappeared quickly
into the crowd before anyone noticed what had happened. She was
both appalled at what she had done, and at the same time elated.
She had an adrenaline rush. She had never killed anything before,
certainly not a person, but she had meted out a small measure of
justice for her parents—finally.