"I'm outdoors and I need a pair of shoes."
"Twenty minutes, Cafe Friedrichstrasse. Be on the corner."
That had been 35 minutes ago. Warren was planning on walking away. He had to admit the cold drizzle was a factor in his deliberations, But at the moment he had no other plans and precious little in the way of resources. The operation in Bulgaria had been an unmitigated disaster and now the only thing for it was to drop off the map. Warren was chilled to his bones and shaking when the taxi man pulled up and asked him a question.
"Sprechen sie English?" Warren asked.
"A little Mein Herr. I am a bit rusty."
"Trust me, my Deutch's rustier. What did you say?"
"I was asking you if you wanted a ride. You seem as if you are out in the cold."
Warren stepped back and put his hand on his pistol. "Were you sent by someone?"
The man in the taxi looked very still but also very steady. "a cobbler sent me forth into the world if that's what you mean Mein Herr..."
"I guess I could get in out of this rain at least."
The taxi rolled away from the curb. and the cab man became a bit more businesslike and more fluent in English. "First thing you need to know is I'm not him, and I don't know where he is or how to get directly in contact."
"Never said you were. How directly can I speak in here?"
"This cab has been thoroughly proofed against most forms of roving surveillance. Your phone won't work in here." The cabman lit up a cigarette that looked hand rolled and smelled vile. "You're not one of our regulars. How did you find out about us?"
"John Parker"
"Was he your handler?"
"He was my father."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"You ever meet him?"
"Nein. I only know him by his reputation."
"Are you taking me to the man?"
"He doesn't see anybody these days. Too many enemies. Which I tell him over and over is what he gets for playing all sides. Still, there are ways of doing business Ja?"
"I guess." Warren said as he rubbed his eyes.
The taxi man held up a brass key. "This is for locker 13, Follow the directions."
Warren held the Starbuck's in his hand and let it warm him slowly. The taste of home was palpable and he was nearly nauseous with homesickness. He had to admit that as much as he had been eager to get out and see the world, He missed Maryland and he teetered on the edge. It was entirely possible that he was blowing this entirely out of proportion. But those ex-STASI guys who had rolled up his network had been asking for him by name which meant a leak or mole and until he could figure out what was going on, going back to Langley was not going to be very helpful, not to mention there was a major league ass chewing waiting for him which he didn't really deserve. What he needed were answers. But in order to get answers, he needed distance and a goodly chunk of anonymity until he could figure out his next move.
Inside the locker was a case. Inside the case, was a phone, an ear-bead, a small note, a set of warm up clothes, underwear, socks, and a pair of slip on running shoes.
The note said, " Go to the toilet, remove ALL your personal effects and weapons and place them in this case. You will be watched at all stages. Your effects will be returned to you when you arrive at your final destination. These precautions are to ensure you aren't being followed. When you have accomplished this, take the number 11 train and then press redial on the phone.
30 minutes later:
" Hello?"
"I have to admit you're good. I never would have thought of sticking the knife in the cup of Starbucks. Do us a favor and leave the cup behind when you get off at the stop."
"Sure." Warren resisted the immediate urge to look around at the passengers on the train. "You're not still mad at me are you honey?"
"Believe it or not, " Said the modulated voice, " We have done this before. I, at least, understand that you're feeling exposed."
"You're very understanding."
"Up to a point. The phone you're using has built in GPS. We're going to lead you on a bit of a merry dance. Mostly it's for our protection but it's also to give us a bit of time for preparations and such. Surely you won't begrudge us that."
"How long?"
"You'll be glad you bought coffee. Stick to the plan please or we'll be forced to wave off and i guarantee that you won't be able to find us with the phone you have in your hands. Its chipset can be burned out with a flick of a switch."
"I understand."
"That's good. We'll see you when you get here...darling."
"I love you too." Warren hung up the phone and looked out the window, trying to see if someone was observing him in the reflections.
"You look like you've seen better days."
The man was sitting in a large wooden paneled office somewhere other than here. Here, of course, was an empty warehouse. He looked to be a bit French. The laptop had a camera and a microphone set up and it sat on the desk opposite the very nice comfy chair that warren was currently occupying. the rest of the warehouse was completely bare and carefully featureless, except for the case he had left at the train station. When he had walked in, it had had a white paper band wrapped around it that said simply "Sanitized for your Protection".
" Hello?"
"I have to admit you're good. I never would have thought of sticking the knife in the cup of Starbucks. Do us a favor and leave the cup behind when you get off at the stop."
"Sure." Warren resisted the immediate urge to look around at the passengers on the train. "You're not still mad at me are you honey?"
"Believe it or not, " Said the modulated voice, " We have done this before. I, at least, understand that you're feeling exposed."
"You're very understanding."
"Up to a point. The phone you're using has built in GPS. We're going to lead you on a bit of a merry dance. Mostly it's for our protection but it's also to give us a bit of time for preparations and such. Surely you won't begrudge us that."
"How long?"
"You'll be glad you bought coffee. Stick to the plan please or we'll be forced to wave off and i guarantee that you won't be able to find us with the phone you have in your hands. Its chipset can be burned out with a flick of a switch."
"I understand."
"That's good. We'll see you when you get here...darling."
"I love you too." Warren hung up the phone and looked out the window, trying to see if someone was observing him in the reflections.
"You look like you've seen better days."
The man was sitting in a large wooden paneled office somewhere other than here. Here, of course, was an empty warehouse. He looked to be a bit French. The laptop had a camera and a microphone set up and it sat on the desk opposite the very nice comfy chair that warren was currently occupying. the rest of the warehouse was completely bare and carefully featureless, except for the case he had left at the train station. When he had walked in, it had had a white paper band wrapped around it that said simply "Sanitized for your Protection".
Somebody had a sense of humor.
Warren shifted in his chair. "Do you generally do business with people who are having good days?"
The Frenchman seemed to consider. "I could probably count the instances on one hand. I imagine you have questions?"
"I am endeavoring to be polite as no one knows that I'm here and I'd like to leave alive. A man as protective of his privacy as yourself must surely have something in place for someone who is overly inquisitive."
The man smiled and shrugged with Gaulic eloquence. "Just so. but I don't think such things will be necessary. You may call me Michel."
"I'm Warren."
Michel smiled again. "So...How can I be of service?"
Warren shifted in his chair. "I am in need of clean documents. I need to get low."
"But of course. in the buff folder on your right, you'll find everything you'll need. Passports, ID's driver's licenses, pocket trash. the whole ball of wax."
"I'm not really sure exactly how to pay for your services."
"Ordinarily, I would say something like, "Oftentimes I have need of the services of an intelligence professional like yourself..." and then, of course, you would either pretend to be offended or you would actually BE offended...But after a bit, we would sit down and bargain and you would walk away and go get lost for while. Happily, we have been saved from doing this sordid dance. Look in the buff folder on your left."
Warren's eyebrows rose. He reached into the folder and drew out a DVD disk.
"What is this?"
" A present from someone who wishes you well." Michel lit up a Gaulois. "Keep the Laptop. It's top of the line but also entirely disposable and untraceable. It even has built in spoofing hardware. Perhaps in the future, you can direct some business my way. Bon chance to you Warren."
Michel closed the connection at his end. The computer automatically went through a series of purging programs designed to make it impossible for him to be traced through this particular laptop. after 45 seconds of deletions and gyrations, the laptop settled back down, and Warren had no doubt that it would be completely impossible for even the forensic computer wonks at the NSA to find "Michel" again.
Warren opened the case and looked over the unmarked disk. Once the laptop had settled, He opened it's drive. Took a long deep breath and then let it out. He put the disk in the drive. in mere moments, it opened the DVD program and the face of his father gazed out at him.
"Hello, son. By the time you see this disk, odds are good that I've been dead for a while.
A long time ago, a very good friend of mine once told me that the essence of Intelligence work is to be ahead of the game not behind it. To anticipate instead of react. I asked him once, "How do you anticipate if you don't know that you have enemies?" and he told me "You should always anticipate that you do."
He was right, about a lot of things. I suppose I was something of a boy scout and I'm pretty sure that it got me killed...Will have gotten me killed...I guess. I'm willing to bet that the same sorts of people who punched my ticket will be causing trouble for you too son. Because if there's anything you inherited from me besides my dashing good looks...It's that same damn boy scout streak.
On this disk, you'll find codes, account numbers to overseas banks, files on my old contacts, locations of caches of equipment, and locations of safe houses and bolt holes all over Europe.
Kid, you have all the help I can give you. Show them that a boy scout knows how to be prepared."
The taxi man appeared at Warren's elbow. "So...Where do you wish to go from here."
Warren looked up at him for a long moment.
"I want you to take me to my Father."
The taxi man went still again. "What?"
"You heard me. My father is running this operation now. The old man is smart, but never believes that anybody is as smart as him. It's how he got in trouble in the first place. So take me to him."
"Let's assume that you are correct. What makes you think he needs your help?"
"Because otherwise, he wouldn't be trying to use me as a stalking horse.Oh, I'm sure he doesn't think of it that way. But tactically, that's exactly what he's doing. He also kids himself about being a boy scout. You don't get to be as respected a spy as he was by being one. He needs me right now, and I have to admit I need him too. Take me to him and maybe we can find out who set us up."
"You're just like your damned father. you know that?"
"Yeah. I know. Let's go."
Warren shifted in his chair. "Do you generally do business with people who are having good days?"
The Frenchman seemed to consider. "I could probably count the instances on one hand. I imagine you have questions?"
"I am endeavoring to be polite as no one knows that I'm here and I'd like to leave alive. A man as protective of his privacy as yourself must surely have something in place for someone who is overly inquisitive."
The man smiled and shrugged with Gaulic eloquence. "Just so. but I don't think such things will be necessary. You may call me Michel."
"I'm Warren."
Michel smiled again. "So...How can I be of service?"
Warren shifted in his chair. "I am in need of clean documents. I need to get low."
"But of course. in the buff folder on your right, you'll find everything you'll need. Passports, ID's driver's licenses, pocket trash. the whole ball of wax."
"I'm not really sure exactly how to pay for your services."
"Ordinarily, I would say something like, "Oftentimes I have need of the services of an intelligence professional like yourself..." and then, of course, you would either pretend to be offended or you would actually BE offended...But after a bit, we would sit down and bargain and you would walk away and go get lost for while. Happily, we have been saved from doing this sordid dance. Look in the buff folder on your left."
Warren's eyebrows rose. He reached into the folder and drew out a DVD disk.
"What is this?"
" A present from someone who wishes you well." Michel lit up a Gaulois. "Keep the Laptop. It's top of the line but also entirely disposable and untraceable. It even has built in spoofing hardware. Perhaps in the future, you can direct some business my way. Bon chance to you Warren."
Michel closed the connection at his end. The computer automatically went through a series of purging programs designed to make it impossible for him to be traced through this particular laptop. after 45 seconds of deletions and gyrations, the laptop settled back down, and Warren had no doubt that it would be completely impossible for even the forensic computer wonks at the NSA to find "Michel" again.
Warren opened the case and looked over the unmarked disk. Once the laptop had settled, He opened it's drive. Took a long deep breath and then let it out. He put the disk in the drive. in mere moments, it opened the DVD program and the face of his father gazed out at him.
"Hello, son. By the time you see this disk, odds are good that I've been dead for a while.
A long time ago, a very good friend of mine once told me that the essence of Intelligence work is to be ahead of the game not behind it. To anticipate instead of react. I asked him once, "How do you anticipate if you don't know that you have enemies?" and he told me "You should always anticipate that you do."
He was right, about a lot of things. I suppose I was something of a boy scout and I'm pretty sure that it got me killed...Will have gotten me killed...I guess. I'm willing to bet that the same sorts of people who punched my ticket will be causing trouble for you too son. Because if there's anything you inherited from me besides my dashing good looks...It's that same damn boy scout streak.
On this disk, you'll find codes, account numbers to overseas banks, files on my old contacts, locations of caches of equipment, and locations of safe houses and bolt holes all over Europe.
Kid, you have all the help I can give you. Show them that a boy scout knows how to be prepared."
The taxi man appeared at Warren's elbow. "So...Where do you wish to go from here."
Warren looked up at him for a long moment.
"I want you to take me to my Father."
The taxi man went still again. "What?"
"You heard me. My father is running this operation now. The old man is smart, but never believes that anybody is as smart as him. It's how he got in trouble in the first place. So take me to him."
"Let's assume that you are correct. What makes you think he needs your help?"
"Because otherwise, he wouldn't be trying to use me as a stalking horse.Oh, I'm sure he doesn't think of it that way. But tactically, that's exactly what he's doing. He also kids himself about being a boy scout. You don't get to be as respected a spy as he was by being one. He needs me right now, and I have to admit I need him too. Take me to him and maybe we can find out who set us up."
"You're just like your damned father. you know that?"
"Yeah. I know. Let's go."
No comments:
Post a Comment