Headhunters (14 page)

“I ran a background check on her and came up with nothing,”
Nan said.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“Scary nothing,” Nan confirmed. “Like ‘wipe me off the map
and make me a new identity’ nothing. No one has that little personal history
unless they’re a spook.”

“Who would have known having too little history could get
you in trouble,” Jess observed. She was right though. Everyone leaves a
financial footprint in their lives. Rent, cars, utilities, something. To have
no history at all was questionable.

“Run her credit cards,” I suggested.

Nan’s fingers flew and within moments she had a report set
up.

“She goes to a club every Friday night,” Nan said.

“Which one?” Jess asked.

“Scarlet,” Nan replied without looking up.

“Scarlet?”

“As in ‘The Scarlet Letter’ the famous literary novel by
Nathaniel Hawthorne,” Nan rattled back. Then in a mock whisper, “Cuz people go
there to hook up.”

Nan let out a sharp barking laugh at her own joke.

I turned to Jess and saw Billy Bender approaching from
behind her. I pointed him out and Nan’s head perked up.

“Who’s that?” she blurted. “And why’s he dressed like such a
noob?”

I was only slightly versed in the Leetspeak that people like
Nan conversed in, but I understood that she was referring to Billy’s suit and
buttoned down appearance. I decided to rattle her a little.

“He’s with me,” I said. “FBI was having a sale on noobs.”

Nan nearly choked when I said ‘FBI’ and tried to grab her
stuff and run. I caught her arm.

“Hey, hey, Nan,” I said laughing. “Seriously, he’s with me.”

Nan stopped, looked at me, then at Billy and cursed so
colorfully, I can’t begin to remember the impossible act of self-copulation she
recommended. She finally relented and Billy joined us.

“Simon,” he said when he approached. I introduced Jessica
and Nan.

“Do I know you?” Billy said, looking closely at Nan. Nan was
shooting daggers at Billy and I spoke up.

“Billy, how did we do?” I asked.

“I divided the money into the accounts you specified. I used
the list of names you gave me, so any of those people will be able to access
funds as needed,” Billy said.

“How many more did you recruit?” Jess asked me.

“Two, they should be on their way,” I replied.

“They’re not from the FBI, too, are they?” Nan snapped.

“What’s wrong with the FBI?” Billy began. I quickly
interceded.

“Listen, you are my project team,” I said. “We each have a
job to do and not a lot of time. If we pull this off, there’s a big payday in
it for everyone, ok? So, let’s learn to at least tolerate each other, ok?”

Nan grumbled but nodded and Billy did the same.

“How’d we do on wires?” I asked Billy.

He pulled a tiny transmitter from his briefcase and showed
it to us.

“Mid-range transmitter, so we’ll need to stay close, but it
should go undetected,” Billy said. “Where’s the meet?”

“Nightclub,” I confessed.

“Oh that’s not going to be good. There’s a lot of noise
distortion there. You’re going to need to get your subject someplace quiet.”

“Who’s wearing that?” Jessica blurted suddenly. I could tell
she was afraid that it might be her and she didn’t seem very much at ease with
the idea.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “It’s not you. There’s only one
person that I can think of who Max still trusts that could talk to Ms.
Athabasca for us. I just hope she’s still willing to talk to me…”

***

“Simon, I swear to God, I’m never
talking to you again as long as I live,” Christine Frost told me.

I couldn’t honestly say that I blamed her, but I did need
her, so ruffling her feathers wasn’t my best option.

“Christine, I totally understand if you’re uncomfortable
with the situation,” I began, “but let’s remember why we’re doing this okay?
You stuck your neck out for Tom Ellis by giving me your security pass that day
at the office. So, I know you care. And I know you care about what happened to
Tom.”

I stopped talking and let Christine stew on that. Her face
was taut with apprehension and angst. She seemed to be thinking it through.
What Tom had meant to her. Professionally. Personally. He’d been a coworker
sure, but he was also a friend and despite my slightly jaded view on the world,
if given a chance to catch the person that hurt you or someone near you, I
believe that people will take it.

I turned my attention away from Christine for a moment. We
were riding in the back of a van outfitted for surveillance. It was taken from
an FBI utility lot and I’d forged the papers for Billy to use to requisition
the vehicle. I’d also signed Kendrick’s name to the authorization. If anything
happened to the van, they could send him the bill.

Billy was driving to “Scarlet”, while Jess and I sat with
Christine. She hadn’t wanted to come at first, but at the news that Max had
killed Tom, she broke from her frozen state and came along. The discussion now
was only to cement the decision that she had already made. She’d taken the news
of my involvement, my Blackthorn involvement, surprisingly well. I’d shaded the
truth with her, but the reality of situation still held true.

“Tom was a friend, Christine,” Jessica said, breaking the
silence. “We need to stop Max. He’s sick… He needs to be brought in. We just
need to know where he is.”

Jessica was good. In the office, she was a hell of a
recruiter, true headhunter material. Now, we were in the middle of a covert,
unsanctioned operation to stop the sale of classified intelligence to a foreign
power and Jess was working Christine like a veteran handler working over their
asset for information. I’d always appreciated Jess’ ability to adapt to a
situation and get the job done. She was doing it again here.

Christine was nodding. She looked up at me.

“You’re going to be right outside?” Christine asked. “Just
in case?”

“Jessica will be in the club with you,” I said. “I’ll be
here in the van with Billy. We’re going to be watching you every step of the
way.”

Billy stopped the van, slipped it into park and came back
toward where we were sitting.

“How are you going to be watching me?” Christine asked. Her
voice was wire thin and tight with fear. She was handling it as well as I would
expect anyone to handle the situation.

Billy pulled the tiny microphone from his equipment bag.

“We’re going to have you wired for sound with this,” Billy
said. He leaned forward to attach it to Christine, thought better of it and
handed it to Jess. “Maybe you can help with that?”

Jess took it and patted Christine on the knee to reassure
her. Christine was wearing a red dress, just short enough to catch attention.
It was the most scandalous thing in her wardrobe. Jessica was wearing the
classic little black dress. I couldn’t help but want to spend the evening with
her under completely different circumstances.

“We’ve also got a camera in your handbag,” Billy said. “It’s
undetectable from the outside and gives us a decent picture. The lens is right
here.” Billy indicated a seam in the handbag. I couldn’t see where the lens was
but when he pointed it at me, my picture appeared on a nearby monitor in the
van’s control console.

“Just point it like so,” Billy said “and we see what you
see.”

“Great… real spy stuff,” Christine said without enthusiasm.

“Are we all set?” I asked.

Jess nodded and helped Christine attach the mike inside of
the neckline of her dress. Billy flipped on some monitors and we got a quick
audio check and confirmed that we were set and ready to go.

“Jess…” I began.

“I know,” she replied.

“No, really, I mean it,” I persisted.

Jess gave me a quick peck on the lips before opening the
door of the van. Christine shot me a withering glare that told me that she had
always suspected about us. I could only shrug.

“I hate you, Simon,” Christine said through a thin smile.

“You too,” I sing-songed back to her and closed the door as
the two ladies walked up the block to enter the doors of “Scarlet”. Billy and I
busied ourselves, getting seated in front of the monitors and putting on
headphones, not wanting to talk about how volatile the situation could be.

“Who else do you have coming in for the job?” Billy asked,
mercifully changing the subject.

“Ron Crawford out of Los Angeles is coming in for our
tactical side,” I said.

“Oh, he’s good,” Billy mentioned offhandedly.

Ron Crawford was ex-LAPD and had served on their SWAT team.
He’d been a new boot during the training for the 1984 Olympics and had retired
twenty years later. Ron could “shoot and loot” with the best of them and was
more accessible to me for Blackthorn operations than a lot of the Special
Warfare guys in SEAL Team Six or Delta Force.

Ron worked private security now and had a knack for
acquiring the latest firearms systems. His brought limitless value to a project
like this.

“I also got Geoff Spanner,” I said.

Billy paused, thinking.

“Don’t know him,” he said finally.

“Not surprising,” I replied. “Geoff just came over from the
U.K. He was a race car driver over there. He’ll be selecting some vehicles for
us.”

Billy nodded and returned to his monitor. What I didn’t tell
him was that Geoff had served in the British SAS, England’s counterterrorist
unit, and had been working in executive protection until he was caught in the
servant’s quarters diddling the client’s daughter home from university. I
couldn’t speak to Geoff’s morals but he could shoot the bull’s-eye out of a
target at a dead run and outdrive anyone on city streets. He was a natural
choice.

Jess and Christine made it to the door of Scarlet’s and were
waiting to be let in. A moment later, the doorman stepped back. He had been a
giant of a man and his crossed forearms looked like tree trunks. He pushed the
door open and the women walked into the club.

“Where’s Nan?” Billy asked. I knew it was nervous chatter,
so I indulged him.

“She’s working on a special project for me,” I replied and
left it at that.

I could feel the pulsing beat of the music through the
microphone and the low murmur of lost conversations. Billy was right, we’d get
no audio while we were on the dance floor. I saw the handbag-cam tilt in Jess’
direction and she waved at Christine and crossed the room. Christine paused and
the camera tilted away and then bounced along at Christine’s hip as she walked
in the other direction.

Couples were dancing to the music. Lights swept across the
floor, up the walls then back. The music drove on the crowds, working them into
a gyrating frenzy of bodies while arms and hands lifted to each other, above
their heads, letting the moment take them.

The handbag-cam began to move with the rhythm and I knew
that Christine was dancing her way through the crowd. It didn’t take long to
find Isabelle Athabasca. I just barely recognized her when I saw her. For a
woman who had kept herself buttoned down at the office, dressed in conservative
women’s business suits, she certainly broke the mold when she was out of the
office.

Isabelle Athabasca’s hair fell long and perfectly straight,
framing her face. She wore an indigo blouse and faded jeans. Everything about
her was welcoming, attractive and inviting but I felt for a moment like the fly
on the edge of the spider’s web.

She danced with an athletic ease, moving to the beat,
letting the music flow through her. She seemed consumed by her surroundings, at
ease and yet at total release of all tension. She was dancing with her eyes
closed at first but opened them and spotted Christine. She waved, her fingers
bending up and down in that way that women wave sometimes.

“Here we go,” Billy said, watching the monitor.

The camera approached Isabelle and we were only along for
the ride. The handbag-cam tilted up and I saw Isabelle’s face a letter better.
Christine was trying to accommodate us. She was working hard to do her job.
That made me smile.

The two women were talking and I could see Isabelle lean in
closer to hear over the music. Isabelle pointed over her shoulder and waved for
Christine to follow her. Isabelle walked away from Christine who followed, the
handbag-cam aimed right at Isabelle’s bottom.

“Aww, nice a—,” Billy began.

“Shut it, rookie,” I snipped. “We’re on the job here. You
can admire her ass another day when we’re not spying on it.”

Isabelle entered the women’s restroom in the back of the
club. The noise died down considerably.

“So, what’s up?” Isabelle asked.

“Not much,” Christine replied. “Just blowing off some steam.
Things have just been so crazy since that thing with Tom.”

Geez, she didn’t waste any time, I thought. Isabelle nodded
sympathetically.

“I know. So sad,” she said. “Have you heard from Simon?”

I was sure that my disappearance had been noteworthy in our
offices. A topic of gossip at the very least.

“I did,” Christine volunteered. “I just talked to him. I
know exactly where he is right now.”

And in that moment, I feared that Christine had played me.
She had let me think what I wanted, had led me down the path and was ready to
sell me out.

“Really?” Isabelle asked. “Where is he?”

This was it. The critical moment. Would she burn me? Or come
though?

“I need to talk to Max,” Christine said, her voice firm.

“Why?” Isabelle asked, but her voice didn’t sound as
innocent anymore. She was negotiating now.

“Because, my information is for sale, and I want to see him
before I name my price,” Christine said.

We could see Isabelle’s look in the handbag-cam. Her face
hardened, her smile lost. She nodded once and pulled out a thin mobile phone
and speed dialed.