C.R. Daems - Kazak 2 - The Unthinkable Page 14

  "Where do I meet her?"

  ***

  Catherine had a suite on the fifty-first floor of the Setai Fifth Avenue hotel in midtown Manhattan. The lobby said money with its marble floors, grand sweeping staircase-to somewhere-and a modern reception desk. I ignored the woman behind the reception desk and the young man behind the personal assistance desk and proceeded directly to the elevators. I'd bet they were debating whether to tell me to use the service entrance since they were wearing more expensive suits, although I had dressed in a nice, if not in a designer pants suit. I found Catherine's suite easily and knocked. When the door opened, a man stood blocking the entrance with a gun partly hidden by his body. Catherine stood inside the room dressed in a silk robe and a towel wrapped around her head. Her right hand held the back of the wrap-and more than likely a gun.

  "Don't shoot, I promise to be good," I said to lighten the mood, since she and the guard looked nervous.

  "It's alright, Bert," she said and waved me in.

  "I appreciate you deciding to come. Witton told me you knew I had intentionally withheld the support you requested. You need to know I'd do it again under similar circumstances. I'm sorry."

  "No need to apologize for doing your job. I don't."

  "Thank you, Lynn. It appears I've been a little too good at my job and someone is thinking about retiring me-permanently, without a pension." She walked over and sat down on the couch. "Witton showed me the Lynn Board and your rules. They seem a bit invasive," she snorted.

  "They boil down to ignore me," I said. I love that simple explanation, which summed up all my rules although it lacked the nasty implementation details.

  "What about my rules. I am the client after all."

  "It would ruin my day if you got shot. So, my rules trump yours."

  "And if I disagree?"

  "I leave. The last client who thought she knew best lived only because the Illusion Assassin was sloppy and she got lucky. The shot intended for her heart, hit a metal box she carried and deflected the bullet."

  "Witton did say he wouldn't hire you because you attract Assassins like blood attracts sharks. But he also said you are the best at killing them. Since I've already attracted Assassins, you're the right person for the job. Welcome aboard."

  ***

  After an in room breakfast, Catherine and I-followed by Bert-walked to the nearby Vornado Tower where she had an office suite on the fifty-fifth floor. Just inside the entrance on the left, a red-haired young woman in her twenties sat behind a mahogany desk. On the right, was a waiting area with five gray-cushioned chairs. Two men in their thirties sat watching us as we entered. Although in suits, they looked ex-military. Once past the reception area there was a large open area to our right with three women and two men working at computers. Catherine entered a private office suite to our left. Bert stayed outside. It was a large room. To the left, corner windows that went from floor to ceiling, providing an excellent view of the city. A small conference table with three chairs sat in front of the windows. In the center of the room, two padded chairs were positioned in front of a large cherry desk. I took a quick walk around the room.

  "Help me push this desk a bit closer to the windows," I said, getting ready to push. She frowned but helped me push it several feet. I grabbed one of the armchairs from the small conference table and dragged it into a corner on the right and sat. She stood behind the desk staring at me.

  "Interesting. You can keep me and the door in sight at the same time, and you will see the person entering before they see me."

  "More importantly, the person entering will see me before they see you."

  "So the Assassin will have to engage you before me."

  "Witton would be pissed if I'm alive and you're dead." I shrugged. She nodded and sat.

  People came and went all morning. Her project leader was an elderly man, who walked with a slight limp. His hair was graying at the temples and his face beginning to sag like a Shar Pei. Although I was bored, I watched each person who entered. An Illusion Assassin could make himself look like anyone. Besides, how did I, or Catherine, know who was loyal to her or to the Judas she sought. Around noon, the redhead brought in the lunch Catherine had ordered for us.

  "Catherine, normally I don't care what my client's doing; however, how can you trust those people to keep the Committee members a secret?" It seemed Catherine, the project team and I would be expendable after she identified the Judas. She laughed.

  "I don't have a death wish, Lynn. I'm having this team investigate fifty individuals who I believe are potential procurers of our renegade's services. If we can isolate him, I'm hoping it will lead us to the Committee man I'm after."

  The afternoon was much the same as the morning with Catherine reviewing surveillance photos, telephone, financial, and background information on various individuals. It was turning dark when she finally called it a day, although I doubted information collecting stopped during the night.

  "Time for dinner, Lynn. You do eat don't you?" Catherine rose and stretched.

  "In a restaurant?" I asked, wondering how much risk she was willing to take. An attempt on her life would reveal little if anything about her Judas.

  "Of course. I doubt an Assassin is going to try and kill me in a public restaurant. Maybe in the hotel or office, and I suppose on the way to and from them."

  I shook my head in disbelief. "Catherine, I don't have a death wish either. I eat standing up with whatever I can hold in one hand, and you will sit at a corner table where I can view the entire room."

  "Nobody in the room will be able to ignore you." She grinned.

  "The ignore me rule applies to my client. I don't care what anyone else does." I grinned back. She invited her project leader, Albert, to dinner and the two men, Max and Sam, who had been sitting in the waiting lounge all afternoon. She had reservations at the Nubu, which specialized in Japanese cuisine. After some negotiations, she managed to get a table near a wall where I could stand and survey the room. She ordered Yakitori, skewered grilled chicken, for me, which was easy to eat standing up. In the beginning, I got lots of stares but they soon got bored and ignored me, except for an occasional glance in my direction. I hate crowed restaurants since there are too many distractions.

  Catherine was very smart and undoubtedly good at what she did, but she placed too much faith in her bodyguards to protect her. I thought them a potential hindrance and more likely to get in my way. Right now they were more interested in the food than their surroundings. Like their boss, they thought Assassins were prohibited from attacking someone while they were eating.

  Back at the hotel, Bert and Tim relieved Max and Sam. Her security team appeared to rotate every twelve hours.

  "Lynn, I'm sorry but there are only two bedrooms." A question more than a statement-where do you sleep, here or elsewhere?

  "I'll sleep out here where I can see the door to the hallway and your room. That chair is adequate." I nodded to a comfortable looking lounge chair in the corner.

  "Don't you get relieved or take breaks?" Now everyone was staring at me.

  "Until you catch your Judas or his Assassin kills us, we are Siamese twins," I said and plopped down in the chair.

  "I'll call Witton-"

  "He'll tell you that he'll assign another Kazak as soon as one is available. That's Kazak speak for your stuck with Lynn. He knows I don't have a life outside of Denver, and I don't mind the twenty-four/seven duty. It saves the commute and having to find something to do when I'm off."

  ***

  The next three weeks were much the same except for a two-day trip to Chicago and a four-day trip to Houston where we were currently. In each city, she had an office and a few staff, who were in contact with the other teams. So far, the teams had eliminated twelve of the fifty possible connections to her renegade. It had been another in a series of long days. Catherine reminded me of a Blood Hound with a bit of Pit Bull mixed in.

  We were on the veranda at Arturo's and Catherine, Max, and S
am had just finished their meals, when a basketball sized man a few tables away dragged a young woman to her feet and began slapping her in the face. Each hit splattered blood into the air and inched them closer to our table. A young athletic looking man made an attempt to interfere. The big guy hardly missed a slap as he backhanded the young man, who careened across a nearby table. Max and Sam were quickly on their feet, moving to put themselves between the pair and Catherine. When he got closer, Max and Sam interceded. Although they worked well as a team, it took several minutes to subdue the man. Not long afterward, the police arrived and carted the man off. The police wanted Max and Sam to give a statement at the police station, but Catherine showed the Lieutenant some identification and he allowed us to leave. Max and Sam looked like they had taken a few good punches and would have some nice black and blue areas tomorrow as well as a few bruised ribs.

  "You weren't much help," Max said as I sat in the chair I had adopted.

  "I didn't think you needed help. Beside I hadn't finished my coffee."

  "Lynn, why did you put your hand on my shoulder, holding me in place? That man could have been an assassin. Since he wasn't, I wonder why my renegade hasn't made some attempt at killing me by now," Catherine asked.

  "Yesterday, I would have said that he either didn't know you had found out someone on the Committee was selling information, or he thought your approach was unlikely to succeed, or it would take years to find him."

  "And today?"

  "That fight was staged. They were paid to create a distraction to see what security you had and how they would react. Max and Sam reacted as you would expect-"

  "What would you have done if we hadn't been there?" Sam shouted.

  "Shot them." The room became deadly silent. "There was an Illusion Assassin sitting at a table across the room. He or she was evaluating you, Catherine, and your security team. He or she now knows how Max and Sam are likely to react, and that I'm a Kazak Guardian. However, if I had taken my eyes off him, he may have been tempted to strike rather than observe."

  "Why didn't you do something? Shoot him!" Catherine said throwing her hands in the air. "Isn't that why you're here?"

  "OK. I shoot him, given he doesn't move fast enough. The restaurant erupts in chaos. Now if there is a second Assassin in the room, how do I identify him with people running here and there? From my experience, Assassins are cowards. They aren't looking for a fair fight. If they can separate you from me, even for a second, they will kill you and leave. If not, they will try to kill me first, then you.

  "Even if I killed him and there were no other Assassins in the room, whoever it is will only pay for another and another. The only way to stop him is to find out who he is."

  Catherine poured herself a glass of wine and sat. Max and Sam stood staring at me. Catherine sat looking off into the distance. A long time later, she smiled.

  "I never really understood the difference between well trained, experienced security and a Kazak. We all saw the same thing, but only you understood what was happening. Yes, I believe you would have shot the man and the woman so they wouldn't take your focus from the Assassin. That would never have crossed Max or Sam's mind since the couple wasn't armed. And sitting down eating you probably wouldn't have seen the Assassin. I agree with you. I need to find my renegade. The sooner the better."

  ***

  The urgency was apparent over the following week. Her researchers broke into two shifts of twelve hours each, and Catherine worked nearly sixteen-hour days. Most days she ordered takeout and many nights slept in the office. They eliminated another twenty-one, leaving twelve unresolved.

  "Neither I nor my team can keep this up for much longer. We need a rest or we're going to make mistakes, which could preclude us from identifying the person we want. And you need a rest, Lynn. I don't know how to stay on the job twenty-four hours a day," Catherine said late one night. Her eyes were red and she had shadows under them. "Do you have any suggestions?"

  Gunfire erupted in the outer office. I pointed to the corner wall with the door. That would avoid her being seen until the door was fully open. I spun into a sitting position and waited. The shooting continued, sounding like automatic weapons. Then the door burst open. The first man in had a machine gun and began spraying the room from left to right. He wasn't looking or aiming, intent on killing anything in the room. If he had looked first, I doubt I would be alive. The second man in was looking and had a Glock-like gun. I shot him twice in the chest before he could bring his gun to bear on me. Unfortunately for him, his friend had partially blocked his movement. Now the guy with the machine gun realized his mistake and tried to stop the inertia of the machine gun and turn it back on me. He almost succeeded when my two bullets hit his head and spun him around with his finger pressing the trigger. He had just hit the wall when Tim entered the door, his eyes focused on me.

  "All clear-"

  Two bullets to the chest and one to the head interrupted his announcement and propelled him back out the door. Silence.

  "You killed Tim. You maniac," she screamed as she moved towards the door. I unwound to a standing position and stopped her with a hand to the chest. She staggered backwards. Looking through the open door, I saw a short man running out the outer office door. I shot him three times in the back. Then the chaos of the aftermath erupted, shouting, crying, and the scraping of furniture. Catherine stood there sobbing, her face twisted in hate. A moment later Bert entered.

  "Are you alright, Catherine?" he asked looking around the room.

  "That gun-happy maniac killed Tim!" She screamed, pointing an angry finger in my direction. "He was just trying to tell us it was clear. Look-" she said sliding by me like I was too evil to rub against and pointed to the man lying on the other side of the door.

  "The thug with the machine gun cut Tim down when they burst through the door. He had him...her...a woman around the neck as a shield when he came in." He helped Catherine pass the body and into the outer room. They spent the next fifteen giving first aid to the wounded. By the time the police and medics arrived, three were dead: Tim, one of the security guards, Albert, the project leader here in New York, and an analyst. Three were wounded: Bert the other security guard and two data analysts.

  ***

  We spent several hours at the hospital waiting on the results of the wounded and answering police questions. Catherine had little to say since she hardly saw anything from her position in the room-except me shooting the Illusion of Tim. I said I shot the three in the doorway and refused to elaborate. Bert took two bullets, one to the ribs and another to the shoulder. Catherine made arrangement for two security guards to replace Bert and Tim. The three wounded required surgery and would be hospitalized. It was almost sunrise by the time we returned to the hotel.

  No one wanted to try sleeping so Catherine ordered an in room breakfast.

  "How did you know?" she asked, sipping on a cup of coffee.

  "It felt wrong," I said, which got glares from Max, Sam, and an open mouth stare from Catherine. During the silence, I had time to let my mind sort out the earlier why. It had felt wrong because Tim followed too close behind the machine gunner and his friend, the shooting hadn't stopped when he shouted all clear, and he didn't look to see if his boss was all right. Of course, that wasn't how I made my decision. At the time, it just felt wrong.

  "You shot someone who could have been Tim, because it felt wrong!" Max shouted. "What if it had been Tim?"

  "It wasn't."

  "What if it were?" he pressed.

  "What if it had been you in the room with Catherine. You would have hesitated, since it looked like Tim. And if you had lived to see Catherine killed, you would have realized your hesitation had cost your boss her life."

  "The police identified the bodies as belonging to a South American gang suspected of dealing in drugs, prostitution, and a series of murders. The fact that they had an Illusion Assassin with them suggests the renegade's involvement. I'd like to push on but I know that's impossible.
I need to assemble a new team and...replacements for Bert and Tim." Her eyes sought her two bodyguards for a moment. "Lynn, do you have any suggestions where you and I could rest while the new people are recruited and brought up to speed?" Catherine asked.

  "My condo. It'll be safer than anywhere else I can think of. An Assassin could infiltrate our building but it would set up a war they don't want. Therefore, it has always been a safe zone. That will also allow you to give your security team a well deserved rest." Bert and Tim's face perked up, turning towards Catherine.

  "OK. Let's make it a week vacation for everyone. We'll assemble eight days from now." Catherine spent the next hour ensuring everyone at the three offices knew and arranged for transportation back to Regan International. I called Ann Marie to arrange for a limo to the Kazak building. Early the next morning, we boarded an unmarked Jet Stream.

  "Good morning, Catherine," a young man said as we entered. "Would you like your usual?" When she nodded, he turned to me. "And what can I get you, Miss?"

  "Coffee, black." I said and nodded to Catherine. "I'm impressed. You have a Jet Stream available for your personal use." I would bet it was dedicated to her exclusively, unlike the Kazak plane.

  "I understand you have your own, which is occasionally lent to the Kazaks." She was either extremely informed about the Kazaks or the joke about the company plane and me were common knowledge all the way to the Committee. "And another at your beck and call."

  She was extremely well informed about the Kazaks and specifically me if she knew about Gendel's offer to use his plane anytime.

  "Working twenty-four hours a day does have its perks." I laughed. The flight from New York City to Alexander was short and we were approaching Regan soon after finishing a light lunch.