Rogue Asset (Book 3 of the Wade Hanna Series) (13 page)

He wanted to continue, and Megan grabbed a pad and pen so she wouldn’t miss anything.

“I think we may also have an embedded algorithm code in the poem. I’m running a frequency map for his use of several words. I think it may be referring to another country, but I can’t be certain at this point. It could be a code within a code as well.”

Rob was over Megan’s head. She thought he might be overanalyzing the poem. She tried to slow him down, commenting, “Rob, you’re already over my head. What do you mean by a code within a code?”

“Well, when I started looking at possible location markers I found an interesting math equation. When I used my algorithm, I kept coming back to the number 30. In other words, there may be a location code and a code indicating how long the assignment might be – as in a 30-day assignment. I’ll know more in a few days.”

Megan was stunned. Knowing Wade was good in math Megan had no idea he would be at this level. Now that she confirmed from her travel research he was deep undercover she had a sinking feeling and knew his mission was dangerous.

It bothered her that it was also off the books which meant the Agency didn’t know where he was and wasn’t able to help him. Megan felt sick. She now wanted to encourage Rob to get everything he could out of the poem regardless how weird it might be. She knew she would be dealing with some theoretical imagery he was creating and didn’t know how she could rely on it.

She tried to get something of a reality check.

“Rob, this has been great. I think you’re on to something. Let me ask you, do you still think this poem is coded or could this just be a case of our overanalyzing a poem?”

The pause that came before Rob answered made Megan nervous. She didn’t want to turn him off and hoped he wasn’t offended. Rob responded with assurance. “No Megan, this is a Level 2 encrypted message. In fact, I think he has three levels. That’s why it’s taking me some time. I hope you don’t mind.”

Megan felt his feelings might be hurt. She responded, “I don’t mind the time at all. It could be important. I just care about Wade and want to know if there might be some way I can help him. I don’t even know where he is. I don’t want this to be an imposition on you.”

“This is fun for me. I think I will come up with something to help you but can’t predict when. I will tell you this. I know encryption formulas very well, and I can tell you your guy is good.”

Megan replied in appreciation, “Thanks so much Rob. Please call me know if you find out anything else.

Chapter 13

Tangier, Morocco

The next day Wade took a different but equally circuitous route back to the pharmacy to dial a secure encrypted line before dialing the memorized number of Angéle Dubois

The voice answered, “This is Angéle.”

“Hello, my name Frank Hess. I have a note to call you when I got into town.”

“Yes, Mr. Hess, I was expecting your call.”

“Please call me Frank. I thought if you had some time we might get together for lunch. I don’t know very much about the city.”

“Is tomorrow good for you?”

“Sure, that would be fine. Where would you like to meet?”

“What part of town are you staying in?”

“I’m staying at the Tanjah hotel.”

“I know that area well. I will pick you up in front of the hotel at 12:30 if that is okay.”

“That works fine.”

“There is a nice restaurant nearby. Afterward, I can also show you around town a bit.”

“Good. I’ll see you at 12:30.”

Their lunch consisted of a combination of local food dishes recommended by Angéle. Both told stories about what life was like growing up. They shared information about siblings and their parents. Wade stuck to his cover story growing up in Canada, and he assumed Angéle was doing the same.

Her story held tightly to the cover description Wade previously read. He even found himself empathizing with some of her childhood tragedies. Angéle was beautiful. Her eyes sparkled when she smiled. She had soft and supple hair, which gently flowed around her face each time she turned her head.

Perfectly dressed for the local area and her cover story she projected a genuine persona of a college schoolgirl from an upper, middle-class family. Wade knew she was a well-trained intelligence operative and tried to imagine her with a gun or knife in her hand.

Angéle was so beautiful that Wade found the task of concentrating on the conversation difficult. He also had the feeling that beneath the fun-loving, carefree, bubbly personality, she had seen suffering and bloodshed. He didn’t know where this feeling was coming from since none of that worldly experience was detectable in her presence. She came across as an innocent young woman could be holding a conversation with a priest or a withering grandmother. Wade welcomed the idea of playing their two roles as scripted in the assignment pages.

As the conversation continued, Wade took another bite of the delicious chicken tagine with pine nut couscous. Just as he bit down, Angéle asked a question causing him to manipulate the food in his mouth while giving her an answer.

“What would you like to do while you are here?”

“There are parts of the city I read about and would like to see. I’m a history buff so those that give insights into that history would be great. I also need to do some clothes shopping and would like to get your help on how to dress for the city.”

Angéle quickly picked up on Wade’s comment, “That would be great. I love history but also as a woman I love to shop. How do you say in English? Shopping is a woman’s prerogative.”

“That’s correct. You seem to have gotten that concept down very well.”

Angéle laughed at Wade’s humorous laid back, country style. She thought he was smart and cute.

“I would be happy to show you the city and help you shop for clothes. We’ll want to pick clothes that help you fit in – nothing too daring or western.”

Wade thought he had the right guide.

“I think it will be fun. I’m not much of a shopper being more of a Canadian country boy who grew up on a farm.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you away from the tourist shops where they rob you blind. We’ll go where the locals go shopping.”

Wade wondered what level of task the request would demand. “I hope it will be easy combining both sightseeing and shopping.”

Angéle put him at ease. “The areas for both are near each other. When would you like to start?”

Wade was quick to reply, “Whenever you say.”

“I’ll pick you up in front of the hotel at 9:00 a.m. We’ll start with a Moroccan breakfast.”

“That would be great.”

After the wonderful breakfast, Angéle suggested a stroll down to the local park two blocks from the restaurant. Wade thought the idea was great. Angéle put her arm in his as they slowly made their way to the park, laughing as each told funny childhood stories.

Angéle remembered this park from when she was little. She told Wade the story of her falling off the swing when she was very young.

“I fell on my butt. Nothing broken but my sense of pride.”

She laughed at herself saying, “I love that English expression.”

The next morning Wade stood a few feet back from his hotel window watching the cadence of the morning crowd to get a sense of neighborhood rhythm. The few minutes before Angéle’s arrival allowed Wade to continue his practice of street watching every morning.

He knew from his experience that sensing the rhythms and patterns of a street or village was important to understanding how it breathed. Unexpected danger was often preceded by a change in the rhythm before an unwelcomed event took place. If you were in tune with the rhythm, you had a sense of what was coming. In just his first couple of days, Wade began recognizing individuals as they went about their daily chores and commuter patterns. As was his taught covert practice he would give them funny names based on their looks, stride, and pace. Soon satisfied that the calm street could do without his oversight he went to the lobby just in time to see Angéle’s smiling face drive up.

Her red car stopped in front of the hotel. She greeted him with a good morning kiss on the cheek. Wade responded with a little red blush. Soon they were on the other side of town, Angéle giving history lessons as they passed historical sites. Coffee started the morning followed by a tasty Moroccan breakfast at one of the outdoor cafes in the old city of Medina.

Wade found himself mesmerized by the Moorish, Colonial, Moroccan, and Andalusian architecture. Angéle had a keen sense of the historical facts that she pointed out as they strolled arm-in-arm.

For the moment, Wade stopped thinking of her as an operative and just enjoyed her company as she described the five areas of Medina and their different cultures.

Near Café Tingis they had another cup of strong coffee and soon arrived on a street crowded on both sides with vendors. Angéle directed Wade through the shop of a carpet merchant that led to a back door opening onto an enclosed courtyard. She pointed to another shop door nestled in the courtyard. Atop the door was a small sign in Arabic that Wade couldn’t read. Wade looked back at Angéle not sure he was approaching the right door.

She replied, “This is a tailor shop that carries men’s clothing.”

The owner greeted Angéle. She spoke in a local language that seemed to be a mix of French and Arabic. The gentleman seemed to understand exactly what she was looking for while Wade looked on like a lost tourist.

The shop’s layout was a little confusing to Wade. Few clothes were on display. The owner sized up Wade and disappeared into a back room. He returned with several pairs of color coordinated slacks and shirts apparently in his correct size.

Angéle smiled, liking the owner’s selections. The owner pointed to an alcove covered by a nicely woven red curtain where Wade could change. There was one pair of slacks and a shirt that Wade liked and another he asked Angéle’s opinion of. She liked both sets of clothes and Wade didn’t hesitate to make his first purchase. The owner kindly offered to do some needed tailoring of hemming the cuffs and told Angéle they would be ready in an hour.

After visiting two more clothing shops between historical buildings, a few more purchases were made. The two strolled down the Avenue d’Expagne
and Rue de Portugal
to the fishing port. They decided to stop for lunch at one of the seafood restaurants Angéle knew. They had the local fish stew that was wonderful.

The couple became comfortable with each other. They were enjoying themselves. Wade remembered his covert instructions were to spend social time and get to know his fellow operative. He thought she probably had the same instructions from Leo. He imagined them together as a real couple but quickly remembered that she, like him, was a trained assassin on a covert mission. The idea quickly sobered him of any romantic thoughts.

As they strolled after lunch Angéle pointed out some realities of the historical setting.

“While it is okay to come here during the day I do not recommend this area at night. There are a lot of illegal immigrants trying to cross from here into Spain and Europe. There is a lot of drug dealing, and people are often held up at knife or gunpoint. The thieves are mainly looking for lone travelers or couples in the area. The next area of town I will take you to is safer.”

The rest of the day included more shopping and sightseeing. Angéle dropped Wade off at his hotel that evening and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The next day Wade met with Claude. They walked to a local restaurant three blocks from Wade’s hotel and ordered small cups of strong local coffee.

After a sip of brew, Claude turned to Wade. “I have been doing research on the ship we are dealing with. Mr. Leopold wanted me to pass the information on to you.”

“That would be good.”

“The ship is named
Hariba.
At only 10,200 dead ton weight capacity and speed of only 9.7 knots, she is considered a small bulk carrier. She was an old vessel built just after WWII and shows her age. Time and lack of care have taken their toll. Rust has embedded large areas of her hull. Old parts for her engine were hard to come by, and makeshift repairs seem to be all that’s holding her together.”

Wade thought about the description before asking. “Where did you get this information?”

“Some of it came from Mr. Leopold’s sources but I also know someone at Lloyd’s of London Maritime Insurance in England. They maintain some of the best maritime records in the world. They keep these records up even if they don’t insure the vessel.”

Wade slowly sipped his cup of strong coffee as he listened to Claude explain.

“
Hariba
is a Liberian registered vessel that spent its life traveling between ports in Spain, Portugal and Africa since WWII. It was acquired by the present owners in the early 60’s.”

The waiter came over refilling their cups with more coffee. Wade looked up at Claude.

“This is damn good coffee, but I’ll probably be wired for two days.”

Claude laughed and continued, “The shipping company is owned by a Tunisian family with a long history in shipping. They have been in that business for over a hundred years. Traditional shipping fell on hard times when political ties in Europe and North Africa were realigned right after the war. Longstanding business relationships shifted when political affiliations changed. This Tunisian family was caught in the middle of these changes. As post-war European boundaries got redefined so did business contacts and loyalties.”

Wade nodded confirming his understanding as Claude continued, “The current heir running the company no longer has the old political and business connections his father once had. He’s also a bad apple. This guy’s got a gambling habit, a drug habit, and an extravagant lifestyle. He’s in serious debt with international organized crime mobsters in Russia and Africa. They pretty much control him.”

Wade was impressed with Claude’s intelligence.

“Sounds like you have a lot of dirt on this shipping guy.”

“We do, but the story gets even better. The mobsters he deals with not only extract payments and profits but also require favors from him when shipping things that are part of their larger crime schemes.”

“In other words, the mob controls him.”

“That’s right.”

“It reminds me of some of the mob situations we have in New York and New Orleans.”

Claude nodded, acknowledging the similarities before continuing.

“Mobster loyalties now overshadow any good shipping contacts the company had going back to WWII. So, the Tunisian family buys this ship
Hariba
about 20 years ago thinking things were going to turn around for them. Things didn’t get any better for shipping legitimate cargo. About ten years ago the owners dry docked the ship and did some renovation upgrades. We found out that’s when they installed a double hull inside the existing flooring.”

Wade had a questioning look on his face when he came up from his last sip of coffee. Claude knew the look and the question that was coming. Before Wade could ask, he continued, “The double hull would allow
Hariba
to increase its carrying capacity and the type of cargo it could carry. After the renovation, she was able to carry everything from cement to steel and everything in between. We later found out that weight was not the only thing the double hull provided.”

Wade interjected with a sense of humor. “I can see where this is going. If she’s carrying food, I don’t know if I’d want to eat something off that ship if it had just been carrying cement.”

Claude saw Wade’s humor and played with it. “This is North Africa. I assume they clean off the cement before they pick up the food, but I’m not sure.”