Fatal (4 page)

When they had first met at thirteen, Ronnie was overwhelmed, inexperienced, and uncertain as to how to proceed with the mysterious creature now in front of him. Their friendship had blossomed under extreme conditions. In the space of a few weeks after their meeting, he was completely under her spell and deeply in love. That part was still there. He knew if he had not met her his life would, at the least, be very different, and at worst it would have ended. Cassie had killed for him, protecting their lives and their futures with a ruthless energy bred out of necessity and instinct. If she would stop at nothing, it was because she loved so fiercely. If she was ruthless, it was only when she had no other choices. Violence might be in direct opposition to her everyday nature, but when Cassie was inclined to strike back the results were usually swift and fatal. This same girl who shot a man in a parking lot once cried for an hour on his shoulder because her dog died. The Cassie who rigged a deadly bomb in a small shed on Lake Ponchartrain was part and parcel of the girl who burst into tears the first time Ronnie said he loved her on the dance floor of a Sadie Hawkins night. The two facets of her personality were inseparable.

“Archer would never have done that. He wasn’t that stupid. Francis flies into town and drags us out of class right in front of the whole world. Who knows who was watching?” Cassie was so mad the words were tumbling out. Ronnie would not have been the least surprised to see her spit. Finally. He spoke up.

“Why would anyone be watching us? It’s been a long time since we had anything to do with anything. To be honest, I was kind of hoping they’d forgotten about us.”

Cassie stopped, putting her hands on her hips. She tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling. “You know, Ronnie, I love you, I swear I do. But sometimes you don’t think.” She walked over to him, placing her palms on either side of his face, forcing him to look into her eyes. “They haven’t forgotten us. We also have to worry about somebody watching him. You can bet your ass someone is watching him, and he led them right to us. Now we have to meet him and do a session? This is bad, and I don’t see a way out right now. If we say no, there’s no telling what he might do.”

The frenzy was over. Cassie went to the refrigerator, reached in and got a pitcher of water. Ronnie waited. When she had poured herself a glass, she grabbed a chair, turned it to face him and sat down. The glass went on the table, her chin onto the heel of her hand. She crossed her legs, looking at him for a long moment, her leg swinging idly back and forth. He could see the machinery running behind her eyes. Finally, she sighed. “Okay, we go. We don’t have much choice. He has us in a bad spot, but it would only get worse if we refused. But if he’s been followed, if he’s let anybody trip to us...” She shrugged her shoulders.

“What?” Ronnie said.

“I don’t know. But it won’t be pretty,” Cassie said.

*****

If there was one thing Andre Kohl had, it was good instincts. There was an itch between his shoulders as those instincts spoke to him now. He saw something important in this meeting between Francis and these two college students. He knew it and he was willing to gamble on it. The quick meeting at the college was just the beginning. What he was stepping into he had no idea, but it smelled to him like something that would pay off eventually. If nothing else, it gave him insight into the type of man he was dealing with in Francis. Right now, his main concern was keeping everyone bottled up. The kids were no problem. His man followed them for the rest of the school day, keeping his distance, finally arriving at a house three blocks away from the university grounds. It was a two-story setup, common to the neighborhood. Once the residence of a family, the growth of the university made it more valuable divided into upper and lower apartments. The mailbox for the lower apartment read Reynold/Gilmore in gold letters pasted on the black box. A young man with a heavy beard occupied the upper apartment, another student; or perhaps he was a teacher. It didn’t matter. The man was of no interest.

What was interesting to Kohl was how brazenly Francis was moving around. Either this trip had no importance at all, or Luke Francis was excited to the point of acting foolishly and taking huge risks. As inept as their trip seemed to an outside observer, Kohl did not want to forget that these were professional intelligence agents. Perhaps they had grown overconfident, a foolish thing in this business. Perhaps the intent of their trip was important enough to cast caution to the wind. Had Archer left his subordinate unprepared? Perhaps Francis was an inept replacement for Archer, a man who had thrived in a dangerous environment for decades. In any case, this was a mistake Kohl felt he could exploit. Watching Francis required a little more care than watching the two students, but presented no major challenge. Kohl rented a room across the street from the motel. Radios were purchased at a small electronics store just off Canal St., apparently a common enough item in the States but unknown in the Soviet Union for everyday citizens. He separated his men into shifts, established good observation points where they blended in, and continued to wait.

*****

Shortly after six o’clock Cassie left the apartment, walking to the car she and Ronnie shared, an old Dodge Polaris her father had given her for graduation. She returned to the apartment carrying a stack of books, left the door open, and a minute later came out with Ronnie following. She drove, backing out the driveway, and picking up Elysian Fields Avenue, headed south. Kohl’s man followed from a discreet distance. He kept well back. Traffic was light; most cars on the road were heading the opposite way out of downtown and into the suburbs. They crossed Chef Highway and the commercial establishments there, continued on as the neighborhood turned back to residential. Reaching the river’s end, she turned right, passing through the French Quarter until Canal St. crossed in front of them. A right turn and a U-turn a little further down put them at the hotel where they were set to meet Francis. Cassie passed the hotel entrance and pulled into a parking garage a block down. Three flights up, she wedged the car between the lines, shut down the engine. Kohl’s agent passed the entrance. There was little point in following. They were already watching the hotel.

The street level exit put them half a block away from the hotel entrance, around the corner. Cassie turned toward Canal, taking Ronnie’s hand a few steps along the street. Her mouth was set in a straight line. Her eyes flashed back and forth. A man with a briefcase passed them walking the other way. A Lucky Dog vendor worked the traffic on the corner. They passed a dress shop where an older woman was locking the door. The lights in another shop went out. Pedestrian traffic was still brisk on Canal and a group of people waited for the light to change.

“I don’t like this,” Cassie said, “I don’t like this at all.”

Ronnie said nothing, but his inner alarm was starting to go off as well. He didn’t know if he was just picking up her vibe or there was something really out there. Crossing the street, they found the hotel entrance and turned in and up three flat steps, pushing through gold-trimmed doors into a burst of air conditioning in the lobby. A straight path through the carpeted room took them to the elevators.

“They’re on three, aren’t they?” Ronnie asked.

“I know,” Cassie said. The elevator doors opened and she stepped aside to allow a young couple with two young children to exit. Entering the mirrored car, she pushed the button for the fifth floor. The elevator began to rise, a bell chiming with each level passed. The doors opened on the fifth floor and Cassie stuck her head out into the hall, looked both ways, and pulled Ronnie off to the left. At the end of the hall, they found the door to the stairwell. Two flights below, Cassie stopped on the landing for the third floor.

“Listen, I don’t know what they want this time. But then again we never know, do we? But I don’t like the way this guy Francis is operating. At least Archer kept things discreet. This guy is doing everything out in the open. We need to get in and get out and be aware of everything when we leave.”

“Gotcha,” Ronnie said. “I’m feeling it too. I’m starting to feel like there’s a crowd around me, watching me. Like I’m on TV or something.”

Cassie nodded. “Okay. Like I said, we get in and get out.” She pushed through the door, walking at a fast clip. She found the room and knocked on the door. Luke Francis himself opened it almost immediately. He stepped aside; waving them in. Cassie went first, with Ronnie right behind her.

*****

Across the street, Andre Kohl waited inside a coffee shop. He was pleased, though puzzled, as to the nature of what Francis was doing. The meeting at the university, followed by another tonight, told him that this pair of college students held a special interest for Francis. It also cleared up the mystery of General Archer coming to New Orleans shortly before he died. What Kohl didn’t know was why this pair of kids was of such interest. As usual, there would be much thought required as to how to proceed from this point. Relations between intelligence services tended to be professional. Most of what went tended to be casual. Overt acts usually ended up with trouble for both parties, but when the stakes were high they did happen.

In this case, the choice was clear. Kohl would lie back and hope to gather more information. Even the smallest acts could be telling. People tipped their hands in the simplest of ways. Patience was often a virtue in these situations. Kohl enjoyed America. Food was abundant, tasty, and cheap. The people were generally friendly, the accommodations were good, and there were freedoms here he could not enjoy at home. He was in no hurry to leave.

He kept returning to the idea that there was more to this situation than he was seeing. Francis had left Washington hurriedly, his entire demeanor one of urgency. Intelligence operatives did not pick up and leave in that way unless something was in the wind. It bothered him that Francis was operating so openly. Good intelligence operatives didn’t parade around or meet key assets at crowded college campuses. Either this was nothing or Francis was far out of his league, not the man Archer was. Why did Francis have so much interest in a pair of college students? What did they have that a man like Francis would seek out? That, he thought as he sipped the good American coffee, he would have to find out, one way or another.

*****

Ronnie took the picture Francis held out to him, running his fingers across the face. A color photograph showed a man in military dress, short-cropped hair, blue eyes and a sharp chin. Across the bottom was a name: Bronislov, Alexei. The man was looking into the camera with an almost amused expression, unlike most military snapshots. The eyes gave something away, hinted at other things he could be doing besides getting his picture taken.

“Alexei Bronislov,” Francis said. “One of our inside people in the Soviet Communications system. He’s been giving us good intelligence for three years. Now we can’t find him. I want you to locate him if he’s still alive. We need to know where he is.”

Ronnie took the picture, leaned back on the small sofa and closed his eyes. Continuing to run his fingers across the face, he took a deep breath. For him, the viewing was a matter of relaxation. The room was silent. Cassie was watching closely. She had seen Ronnie do this of course, but it was always a matter of intense interest to her. Their experience was different. She usually needed isolation to get away successfully. Ronnie seemed to be able to do it in a room full of people, though his immersion was never as complete. She was there in person when she traveled. Ronnie described his viewing as a bird’s-eye perspective. Now his breathing deepened as his head rolled back on the sofa. His body settled in. He spoke to himself in a low voice.

“There now ... there. Yes. What kind of car is that...? Ah.” He went quiet. His face became a mask of concentration.

*****

Ronnie was flying, moving rapidly down a tunnel, snapping lights winking away on the sides. There was a glow ahead and he moved toward it. He broke out into sunlight over a coastline road. The day was windy. He could see it in the movement of the trees, but he couldn’t feel it. An odd little vehicle was moving down the road as it wound back and forth over a craggy coastline road. Ronnie followed the car until an arcing curve to the left spread out into a wide open space. There was a beach on the left, with small rollers working their way into shore. The car slowed, turning into a paved area. A man got out the driver’s side, followed by a laughing woman from the passenger door. The woman turned, pushed the seat forward, reaching in to help a blonde-haired little girl out of the back seat. The man went to the trunk, pulling out a blanket and a cardboard box. Ronnie hovered over it all, watching, waiting. There was no feel of danger, no hurried movements, no apprehension. The three moved together toward the beach, the man and woman holding the little girl’s hands as they made their way toward the water.

Ronnie let go, moving back through darkness, the lights sparkling in the distance. As always, he felt his own tenuous grasp on his physical presence, pulling himself back inward. If one day he was to lose that grip, he wondered: What then? He lifted his head from the back of the couch as he returned, looked at Francis, and flipped the picture onto the table in front of him.

“Your guy is on a goddamn vacation. He’s at the beach.”

“Are you certain?” Francis said.