Sudden Deception (A Jill Oliver Thriller) (20 page)

Jill bolted up and started to pace in the tiny room. Her head was beginning to pound from the confusion. “Where is he?”

“He’s working on an ops. It’s called Operation Silhouette.”

Jill stopped and stared at Leila. Leila’s eyes continued to plead. “What the heck is going on, Leila?” Jill stood with her arms crossed and stared into Leila’s eyes. Blink, goddamn it, you bitch, blink.

Before Leila could answer, Johan held up his palm towards Leila. “Jill.” He paused for a split second then flipped another page.

Jill looked at Leila, then back at Johan. “What else does it say, Johan?” Jill demanded as if she was his commander.

“They think David is in Dubai, United Arab Emirates, funny thing … he left Hamburg a couple of days ago. They can’t be sure, as here it is written that he’s undercover. That’s the latest on him.” Jill and Leila both heaved a breath of relief.

“Do they know this for sure? Can they verify that it’s David who is in Dubai?” Johan shook his head.

“I, ah, I…” Jill stammered. “I need to get to Dubai, chief. Or at least I need to speak to David. I know you said he is still deep undercover. But did the brief state anything about David’s whereabouts or how I can contact him?”

More pages flipped before he confirmed no. “Also, Jill, during the time you were held by those bruisers, I received a call from Eric. FBI. We discussed searching for a man. His name is Zayed Saleem.” He flipped a page. “Zayed Saleem. Age thirty-seven. NOC. Undercover Middle East PRO for Time. Target: Jill Oliver.”

Jill’s jaw dropped and she looked squarely at Leila. “You know Zayed?”

“No,” she insisted. “David mentioned him, but I’ve never met him. What else does it say about Zayed?” Leila questioned Johan.

Johan looked down at the page again and read out loud. “He was extracted from Kushka by special ops for Russian Foreign Intelligence Agency. He was airlifted to Dubai. Neck wound. Prognosis positive.”

“I thought I heard two different Russian dialects in Kushka. Does it say why I was the target?” Jill questioned.

Johan looked back at Jill with an odd look on his face. “Seems like a no-brainer to me, Jill. Whoever is targeting you knew that David was on to them, then of course they'd have had you followed.”

“Then I was Zayed's target for what? To protect me? From the Chechen Mafia? Why?”

“Maybe that’s why David is in Dubai,” Leila interrupted. “To see Zayed.”

Johan shrugged and then continued. “Operation Silhouette,” he read, “suspected to be a front for Al Qaeda. Perps go into foreign countries where there is civil unrest, where a tyrant rules, and go all social network on the country. It’s a new form of terrorism,” Johan continued. “Syria, Yemen, Egypt, Bahrain.” He paused and took a breath. “Iran. We’ve been following this for some time now as have the US and UN. Practically all the original EU five have too. The GCC, Arab League, you name it.”

Jill looked at Leila and identified that this was the first time Leila had heard this based on her posture. Stiff and straight, Jill asked the question anyway. “You knew about this, Leila, didn’t you? You told me that David’s Pulitzer was about Operation Silhouette. What do you know, Leila? I want to know now. NOW!” Jill pointed a finger at Leila, its tip nearly touching Leila’s nose.

“I, ah, I don’t know anything more than what we spoke about, Jill.” There were no excessive blinks, no REM when awake. “David told me this, that’s all I know.”

For a moment the room hushed and all that could be hear was a distant ring of a phone in another room. “Did you know he was a NOC?”

Leila’s eyes lowered. The gentleman’s agreement of a governmental NOC was non-disclosure of information, and Leila again looked around for surveillance. Before she answered Jill, Leila asked. “Are we being recorded?”

Johan confirmed “no,” and continued, “I don’t care about your US government breach. Clearly you two need some time alone so we can continue. There’s a lot to cover yet, ladies. Ten minutes.” His chair chirped as he stood up and closed the door behind him.

Jill was treading the floor, her arm squashed into her armpits, when Leila walked over and attempted to hug Jill. “No, Leila.” Jill stood squarely. Pools of distrust filled Jill’s eyes. She lifted her left shoulder and slightly turned as she repelled Leila, wincing at the pain.

“Jill,” Leila said with reverence. “Jill.” Her voice grew louder. “Please, Jill, please sit down. I’ll explain everything.”

Jill did not move, stubborn as a mule.

“Jill…” Leila thought hard as she trailed off, her head averting downward. “Please, Jill, there is more you need to know about David.”

Those words sliced through Jill and grated against her bones. A look of shock and something unrecognizable shone in her eyes as she slowly took her place back at the table and stared blankly at Leila. Leila sighed heavily. Jill blinked back and then Leila began.

“You familiar with the Patriot Act?” Leila said rhetorically. “Well, it’s not exactly like how it is described in the media. There was more communication between federal agencies, but since the act was introduced, they’ve tightened the screws. Ever since 9/11 NOCs have been under strict NDAs—non-disclosure agreements.” Leila reached over and pressed her hand on Jill’s. “NOCs are normally people that move around, so what better cover than a journalist? Besides, I am not what you would call a mainstream NOC. I'm not trained in field ops. My job is to take pictures. Pictures of what the NOC 's discover. I'm more like an assistant, the photog that takes pictures of crime scenes. Except my backdrop is the spy scene.

“He is a great writer, Jill, and his job is real.” Leila began to sound bothered, but Leila always sounded bothered. “Ya know, Jill, it’s not like he screwed around on you or something. It’s just a career choice. Like everyone else that doesn’t give full details on what happened at work. Like if you were married to a doctor and he didn’t tell you how many patients he lost that day,” Leila tried to reason.

“I thought husbands and wives didn’t have secrets; it’s what a good marriage is built on. It’s called trust, Leila.”

“Do you tell David details on a nuke move? Do you tell him about threats, terrorists, and imminent events? He didn’t even know you were a remote viewer, for God’s sake.”

Jill had no choice to admit that Leila had her on that one; all she could do was give a grunt in surrender.

A few minutes passed in silence. Jill thought hard. Leila was right. In the law enforcement game nothing was ever as it seemed. So Leila and David are NOCs . She could understand Leila not breaching confidence of her NDA. David—that one she'd have to think about. But despite the secrets, right now she needed Leila's help and right now she had no other choice. The pity party shit she'd figure out later.

“Leila, about my viewings, I need to tell you something. I had a strong one. Something I have never experienced before. I drew the Star of David a few days before this viewing. The one you saw in my notebook, remember?” Leila sat slightly forward. Jill began to relay what she had seen. “The next time I tried viewing I saw something I had never seen before. This viewing was vivid. Like a movie or something … there were men around a table, six men that all seemed like they were from different countries. They spoke of this Operation Silhouette. They even talked about having control of more than just the Russian oil.” And then she stopped. “And here is the weird part, Lei. I saw these men in white gowns and they were circling a wooden star of David. It was the exact one in your photo. They were standing around it chanting. Chanting the word Ochrana.”

“Ochrana, what the hell kind of word is that?” Leila blurted.

“I’ve got Karine searching, but so far nothing. The leader said something to the effect that Ochrana was formed to control Russian oil. Have you heard this word before?”

“Ah, no.”

They sat in silence. They were thinking so hard you could almost see steam coming from their ears. Leila spoke first. “Can you call Karine and see if she’s found anything? Do you know the GSG very well, Jill?”

“I’ll call Karine when we’re done. As for GSG, they are the top CTU, counter terrorist unit in the world. I think it’s because they also have direct access to Europol. They have certain pull in these agencies that the US doesn’t have, given their proximity to the European Union.”

“Then why not tell Johan? It’s worth a try,” Leila hastened. “He said he didn’t care about US breaches, so your oath won’t matter here, right?”

“Can you imagine what he’d say if I told him I have psychic powers?”

The door opened and Johan popped his head in. “All clear?” He eyed one, then the other. “Did you kids kiss and make up?” Leila shot him a ‘whatever’ look and Jill noticed that Leila instantly did not like him.

“Okay, where were we?” He sat back down and shuffled the pages. “Stan Brown, age fifty-two, CEO of Marksmen Oil.”

“Why was David’s target Stan Brown? He’s his father, for God’s sake.”

“Well,” Chief began as Leila and Jill perched on their chairs, “it appears our Mr. Brown has had some blips on the screen himself when we ran his name. Good call on that one, Jill.” He flipped to the next page. “He hasn’t left Hamburg, not by air anyway. Seems our Mr. Brown has a thing for oil. Russian oil, to be more specific. Seems as recent as two weeks ago large amounts of cash had been transferred, well should I say laundered, based on the amount of times it’s been rerouted.” The ladies exchanged a glance, mesmerized. Leila seemed the most impressed as she connected the dots of Jill’s viewing with the report.

“Some people are stupid,” he said as he shook his head and read in silence. “I think he needs to fire whoever is managing his transfers. No wire transfer information is safe anymore. Jeez,” he chuckled. “He even sent money through Cyprus.” He paused at the bewildered looks on their faces. “You do know that Cyprus has one of the biggest banking wormholes in this hemisphere, right?”

“No,” Jill answered.

“What else?” Leila urged, growing impatient. Leila was brash most days, but she was smart and the pace of the reading appeared to grate on her nerves.

Johan shot a look back at Leila. “In the sidebar notes from the analysts … when running both Petrovich and Brown’s name, it states that both Petrovich and Brown were in Afghanistan at approximately the same time, just over two months ago. There’s a high probability they know each other.”

He closed the file when Jill asked, “It just doesn’t make sense, Johan. Why would David work as a NOC tracking his own father?”

“Oh yeah,” he said nonchalantly as he flipped the file back open and thumbed to the last page. “David Brown, age thirty-two, NOC for CIA, cover, freelance journalist. Born Robert Barnes, adopted by Stan Brown at age one week.” He looked up at the stunned faces. “David is not Stan’s biological son.”

The porcelain clinked as spoons stirred coffee. They were alone now in the small, stark room. Johan left to take an urgent call. He said something about new intel and they waited in anticipation, sipping the hot brew. It had to be well over 19:00 hours by now. Five hours and counting for the uranium buy is what Johan had said before he left the room.

“I had no clue, Jill.” Leila broke the silence. “I wonder if David knew Stan wasn’t his biological father. It sounds like he’s okay, Jill,” Leila tried to reassure her.

Jill sat befuddled. What is okay? she thought to herself as she gulped her coffee. She was thinking all right. Her mind sped fast through her tunnels. “He must have known, that’s why he was working on his target. Stan.” Leila looked at Jill and waited for her to say something.

Silence hung. Then Jill said, “I found a card in David’s pocket. I can’t remember the name of the doctor, but he specialized in DNA testing, Glen something. Could be a story he was working on, I guess.” Jill stopped herself. “Story—did David even write any stories?” she asked with an intentional sting for Leila. The jibe was ignored.

“Jill, a NOC is not an active agent, you know. They do their normal jobs, waiting for the call. Sure, they’re in specific locations for a reason, blending in, watching, learning. If the CIA wanted Stan, David would have been a perfect NOC for the case. It’s probably why he was recruited. David must have known Stan was not his real father. They also must have known they didn’t get along. I guess listening in on a few calls would have determined that. Jill, your viewing, did you see what they looked like, these men?”

Pondering, then reflecting back on the mental images, Jill answered, “Yes, all except the fat man.”

“The fat man?” A pause. “How old was he?” Leila questioned.

“Don’t know; all I could see was the back of his head. He smoked cigars, though.”

“What?” Leila's voice leaped with recognition. “Could you see the brand, Jill, the brand band on the cigar?”

“It’s not like that, Leila. Sometimes you can see details but most of the time it’s just impressions. Words can be full sentences or just impressions.”

“You said this viewing was different, like a movie, you said?”

“It was, but it’s not a factual kinda thing. Actually, a viewer has to be careful not to fill in the blanks. It could skew the viewing.” Another pause. “Why?”

“Stan smokes cigars right in his office and didn’t even ask if I minded when I was there. The jerk.” Leila grabbed a pen and the notepad that sat on the table. She wrote the words STAN BROWN in all caps and underlined it. Then she started her journalistic scribe. Operation Silhouette. She quickly underlined it with several fast strokes.

“Brussels.” Leila spoke as she wrote and Jill followed her writing on the page. “I ended up in Brussels on assignment for Time. The CIA is well aware of these new ways of spreading terrorism—Al Qaeda disguised as activists, using social networks to enrage people for control of countries or control of oil, its resources. In my assignment brief they mentioned what Johan said. Social networks were hard to control … The US is concerned about it, Jill. Well anyway, I was sent to Brussels with a NOC as there was supposed to be a meeting of people who controlled this Operation Silhouette. I think it was the meeting you saw in your viewing. Was David in your viewing?”

Jill frowned and said softly, “No.”

The chair creaked as Leila shifted back, flipping her pen deftly through her fingers. “If your viewing was accurate, Jill, then that picture of the star I took meant something. That must be where they meet. Anything else you can think of?”

Jill nodded slowly. “Johan said Cyprus, right?” Leila nodded. “In my viewing the men were talking of transferring money from Cyprus; I think it was by boat to Germany.”

They both stared at each other but Leila said what they were both thinking : “Do you think the fat man in your viewing was Stan?”

Jill’s tensed body language affirmed yes.

Before Johan could sit down, Jill asked. “Have you ever heard the word Ochrana, chief?”

He stood, clearly thinking. “Ochrana, no. Sounds Russian.” Och-ra-na he wrote in his notes. “I can run the name. Why? Where’d you get that name?”

Jill looked at Leila and was surprised when Leila said, “I heard it from an informant in Brussels. Jill and I were just discussing this and we think it may have something to do with Operation Silhouette. There’s more, Johan. This informant also said there’s a large shipment of cash being moved. It’s coming via Cyprus and it’s coming to Germany. Maybe it's the same cash that Stan is moving?” Johan’s mouth drew open. “I think whatever is happening with Operation Silhouette has something to do with Petrovich and the buy tonight. What’s the new intel?”

“The analyst’s are still analyzing.” He rolled his eyes. “Who is this informant?”

Leila made up a half-cocked story and the chief raised his brow in disbelief but said nothing. With a swift brush against his arm, Leila flirted just enough to settle his suspicion and he moved hastily towards the door.

“I find it hard to connect an American businessman with the purchase of nuclear devices. What would Stan want with anything like that? Moving cash to protect himself from US taxes I could understand.” He didn't sound convinced.

Jill said, “Run Ochrana with the star of David.” He gave her a funny look and closed the door behind him.

“I think we’re getting close now,” Jill said with renewed hope. “Stan Brown, that bastard!”