1 Manic Monday Page 7
“We don’t have time now, Giselle. Quick. Put this on. I will turn my back.” She took the suit from him, the material slipping from his fingers. He turned his back and then pulled a pistol from his bag. He fired one shot into a cubicle nearby. The silencer muffled the majority of the sound, but he could hear Giselle shriek.
He did not turn around.
“I have to make it appear as though I did my job.”
“I don’t understand why I have to put on this thing,” she complained. She was sobbing.
“They have thermal cameras set up in the building east of us. I need them to think you died.”
“I died? So you are here to kill me!”
It is difficult to be consoling when you have your back turned, he thought.
“I’m not, though. Just put it on and bring your clothes.”
“What will happen when they discover I am not dead?”
“Let me worry about that. Here, put on these ice packs.” He handed the packs to her. They were shaped as rings to fit over wrists, legs and around necks.
Giselle looked at him quizzically.
“Where?”
Jake tried to remain patient. Time was slipping by. Every second was important. He tried to ignore the watch on his arm. He took a deep breath.
“Around your wrists, over your neck. It will keep your body temperature down for a little while. In that gear, your body will heat up quickly.” He tried to ignore the shape of her body in the tight-fitting rubber. She slipped the ice packs on, mumbling.
“Alright. Let’s go,” Jake said, turning toward the door.
“Wait!” He looked back and she was staring at him, her eyes wild. He understood that she had questions. This was sudden, this was life-shattering, this was awful. He had no time for questions, feet dragging, or hesitation. They needed to move.
“Yes?” he said, trying to keep the ice from his smile.
“I can’t go out like this. I look ridiculous!” She was shaking her head. She did look odd. Odd, beautiful, sensuous, and frightened. Jake was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
“Put on a coat. It’s cold outside.”
“Won’t that counteract the suit? I mean—“
He put his hand to her mouth. He looked into her eyes.
“You can’t have it both ways. We don’t have time for this. Put the coat on and we will hope that it will lock in the cold. The coat doesn’t show up on the cameras.” She nodded, his hand still on her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “The longer we stay here, the easier it will be for them to see that you are still here. There is no one on the first three floors, so I need to be the only heat signature they see. Okay? Once we get to the garage, though, we are in the clear. They have no heat cameras there.”
Giselle swallowed and nodded. He removed his hand and she walked over to the closet and pulled out a long trench coat. It was a man’s coat. Jake could not help but to wonder whose it was.
“Alright, I am ready,” she said, picking up her silver heels. She left her underclothes across the desk. He regretted not having time to set up a scene. This would have to do.
“Are you the only one working today?”
“Yes,” she said. She hesitated, her gaze going to the terminal in the office. “I came only to communicate with my superiors at Sinegem. They aren’t helping.”
“I know. Something is wrong. We will get to the bottom of it. Come on.”
He held the door open for her. Giselle tucked her chin to her chest and batted her eyes at him. The ice pack forming around her neck showed beneath the collar of the trench coat. She looked like a proper spy come out from the cold, carrying silver pumps and prepared to seduce. He imagined she was very good at her job.
As they walked the carpeted hall, he heard the elevator moving. The doors swished open and the couple he had met earlier emerged, pistols in hand. They both had little Bluetooth mics in their ears. Time slowed for Jake and he saw details. This is what made him special.
The man was big, but favored his right leg. His knee was weak. The woman turned her head to the left, tilted down but the mic was in her right ear. She had an equilibrium problem. Jake guessed that she had flown in recently and had not recovered from the pressurization.
Both pistols were B&T TP-9 semi-auto nine millimeter machine pistols. They were handy because stripped down, they were easier to disguise since many of their exterior parts and magazine were polymer. Springs, guide rods, and ammunition could be hidden in separate compartments, or picked up at the destination. They were also common weapons, although more expensive than perhaps a fully automatic Glock. Jake noted that they had the barrel extensions attached to hide flash and suppress sound. These extensions added about three grams of weight to the front of the barrel. In addition, he noted they did not have an attached stock or a sling system to give them a more stable platform to assist with quicker follow up shots.
With this knowledge, Jake went into motion. He noted in his peripheral vision that Giselle had dropped her shoes. He was not sure how much he could depend upon her to assist, but he was prepared to end this threat quickly. He and Giselle were still racing against the clock. These two did not seem to be pros. He wondered again who sent them. Hired mercs was his best guess. Security personnel, maybe.
“Stop right there!” The man shouted. He aimed his pistol with both hands.
Jake held up his hands as he stepped forward again. The man began to lower his weapon and the woman fanned out to his left, closer to the wall, her pistol trained on him. They were ignoring Giselle. He turned his head and Giselle was there holding a gun to his head.
“Oh. I see. A trap.”
“No. I didn’t know who would show up. I hired these two to protect me.”
Jake raised his eyebrows.
“I’m impressed. So, why did you go along with me?”
She shrugged.
“To buy time. To see what your intentions were.”
“Darius won’t stop here, Giselle.” His hands were still above his head. He wanted to bolt ahead and take them out. In his head, he was forming his cover. Blown assignment. Security personnel, communications scrambled, and bad decisions. Darius would be furious. He wouldn’t lose his job, but his reputation would suffer. He had never failed an assignment. This one would never show in the books, but people would talk. Surviving never entered his mind. He knew what he had to do.
“Actually, you are in more hot water than I am. You should never have accepted this assignment. I tried to warn you when I met you in New York, Mr. Monday.”
Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Hills took their places in the hall in front of him, barring his escape. He ignored their menacing stares.
He looked at her with sad eyes.
“I thought we were on a first name basis.”
She smiled and shrugged.
“That was personal. This is business.”
Jake nodded.
Then he vaulted forward in a quick roll. He came up in front of Mr. Beverly Hills. To his credit, he had followed Jake’s movement and fired just over his shoulder as he ducked. Jake knew the next shot would be high. He smashed his foot into the man’s right knee, feeling his leg give. He watched as the man collapsed. Jake grabbed his TP-9 and twisted it from his grip and quickly cracked his skull as he fell limp the floor.
Jake heard the report of Giselle’s pistol behind him. He trusted that she was firing to warn, not to kill. He pivoted away as Mrs. Beverly Hills shouted something. As he turned he brought his open palm around in a wide arc, smacking her in the left hear. At the same time, he stepped close into her, his leg between hers and he brought his foot down hard on the stiletto of her right foot. It broke with a snap. Jake felt a bullet rip through the fabric of his jacket. It missed his side by maybe an inch, he saw as he looked down. Mrs. Beverly Hills collapsed with a grunt. Jake imagined that she had twisted her ankle pretty hard and that her ears were ringing quite badly. He pushed her shoulder on the right side and watched as she dove backwards and smashed into the wall behind her.
She dropped her pistol and Jake kicked it, and rounded on Giselle. She stood behind him, her legs spread wide, the men’s trench coat open, revealing her lithe figure in the tight scuba outfit. She was smiling smugly.
“I had heard you were good. I am impressed. How much would it be to secure your services, Monday?”
“I am not for sale, Giselle. Drop your weapon.”
She shrugged and stuffed the pistol into a pocket of the coat. She held her empty hands in front of her.
“We can go now. I will go with you. I am interested to hear your side of this now.”
“What changed your mind?”
“It doesn’t seem I have a choice. Evidently, you are the only one capable of protecting me.”
Jake looked at her sadly and then glanced at his watch.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Giselle.”
“There is only one way to find out,” she said, a sly smile lighting up her face.
Jake motioned with his head at the two mercenaries sprawled on the floor.
“How about these two? You could have called the dogs off.”
“You will need an alibi, am I not right?”
I can see now why Sinegem hired her, he thought. He said, “Then let’s move. That suit isn’t going to fool them for long.”
Minutes later, Jake was peeling out of the parking garage and heading south on the Highway 2. A boat was waiting for them docked in Santa Monica, courtesy of Gary’s rich friend, Seyla Harrington. They stopped long enough to check if Anthropologie or Fred Seagal was open on the holiday. To Giselle’s disappointment, both were shuttered, despite signs declaring a sale. Jake assured her that Gary’s friend would have an acce
ptable wardrobe at the yacht. Giselle was melancholy for the rest of the trip, but he suspected it had more to do with her brush with death than Seyla’s taste in shoes and sensible sailing clothes.
The captain, crew, cabin, and wine suited Jake just fine. He was glad to be off shore and safe. He knew that could be a short-lived condition, so he began making calls. He started with Gary.
Chapter 11
Wear My Sunglasses at Night
The Embraer Legacy 650 business jet landed at the private air strip and taxied to a stop. Giselle sat across from him in a soft leather recliner, sipping champagne. She had complained that she had missed celebrating the New Year. Two days had passed since their harried escape from the Vector Energy headquarters in Los Angeles. Jake had enjoyed the rest, the food, the fresh, warm salt air, and the view.
He glanced again at Giselle’s alabaster skin, her slim legs crossed primly. He was glad he was about to hand her over to her employer’s security team. The longer he spent with her, the more difficult he found defending against her advances. His body demanded yes, and his mind devoutly said no. He had no idea where that second voice got its self-righteous fury. Jake simply obeyed it the same way he would ignore the sharp, blinding pain that came with the thought of VANITY.
“I dare say I thought I was rid of this blasted cold,” Giselle complained.
“I thought you were born in a frozen climate,” he jabbed. She smirked and ignored him.
She glanced out the window as they taxied through the ice and snow. It covered the surrounding hills and Jake could hear the slush and ice crunching under the Legacy 650’s landing gear. It was almost enough to depress him. He had to agree with Giselle. He would rather still be out on the Pacific.
“I wasn’t sure they would take me back,” she said, her voice quiet. She chewed on her lip and continued to stare out the passenger window.
“I am sure Sinegem believes the threat is behind them now. The board has voted to remove their sanctions, and re-assign you. Darius has agreed to call off the dogs. You get your life back.”
She turned to look at him, sadness weighing down her porcelain features.
“What about you?”
He shrugged.
“I guess I tweaked the nose of my boss, gave Violet more reason to hate me, and owe Gary a country club membership. What kind of assassin would I be if I didn’t manage to create a little chaos while rescuing someone for a change?”
Giselle sniffed.
“I think you are too confident. I am not retracting my offer, Mr. Monday.”
“I thought we were on first name basis again since I saved your bacon.”
Her smile was sad. Her voice sounded weary.
“As before, this is business, not pleasure. We need you more than Galbraith. Don’t make us force them to use you.”
“What do you mean?”
She sipped her champagne. The jet stopped abruptly and the attendant came forward and stood at the front of the cabin, smiling professionally.
“I have perhaps said too much. We must join our companions. We will speak more, I am sure.” She placed the champagne on the table beside her and allowed Jake to take her hand and escort her forward.
“I am glad you are safe,” he said. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Jake could smell her skin. It was intoxicating.
“I will never be able to thank you for all you have done. I enjoyed our little adventure.”
“Me too,” he said. A dumb, thunder-struck smile edged its way across his face. She took both his hands in hers and gave them a little shake.
“Until later, Mr. Monday.”
“Yes. We must have another adventure someday,” he promised.
She turned and made her way toward the exit. Mixed emotions stirred in him again. Despite his compunction to follow her home and to hear more of this offer to work for Sinegem, Jake turned his mind to the business at hand.
Jake was curious about what she was hinting, but he had some small trepidation regarding his position at Galbraith. He did not figure that there would be a good exit strategy. This was not the first time it had occurred to him that he might not be able to leave Galbraith alive.
He wondered who would meet him on the icy tarmac outside. Lars had mentioned that he had passed some sort of “test.” Jake was sick of feeling like he was a puppet. He had jumped through every hoop Lars and Galbraith had put before him. He did not understand why he constantly had to prove himself. Evidently, they were more worried about his loyalty than his skills. This made Jake uneasy. At least he had passed. That was always a good feeling. Right?
As he ducked his head and moved toward the politely smiling attendant, he tried to catch a glimpse outside the windows. All he could see was a long field featuring a huge rock and a brick mansion with tall cedars standing a lonely, snow-covered guard against a north wind coming off Lake Cayuga. They were in upstate New York at the vacation home of one of the Sinegem America executives. Probably another one of Gary’s “friends.” It never ceased to amaze Jake the sheer volume and quality of Gary’s contacts. The small runway was newly paved and well maintained, but the snow was still falling in huge flakes like ashes from some great fire.
The cold wind whipped into the jet and the glare from the whiteness of the snow almost blinded him. He wished he had packed some winter gloves. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his meager jacket as the attendant wrapped Giselle in a long, fur-lined parka. He barely heard her stammer her gratitude over the sound of the engines and the howl of the wind.
“Thank you for flying with us,” the attendant said with more charm and enthusiasm than was necessary. Giselle smiled at her and carefully stepped down. Jake thought he should help her, but before he could get to the door, she was almost at the bottom.
Two men in trench coats, dark gloves, and mirrored sunglasses moved to flank her. One man took her by the elbow and the other by the hand, talking to her with a slight smile on his face. Giselle nodded. She turned and waved at Jake. He stood stupidly at the exit of the Legacy 650 with his satchel under his arm and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket.
The man beside her looked up at him then. Jake thought for one second that he recognized him. But the blinding whiteness of the snow and the cold air blowing on the surface of his eyes made him blink and squint.
Jake looked out farther from them to the dark Cadillac Escalade, another guard holding open the back passenger door and rubbing his hands together. A cloud plumed into the air from the exhaust. Jake could not make out anything in the vehicle due to the tinting, but he saw a pant leg through the open door. Four guards? Maybe Sinegem was serious about protecting their asset better this time.
Another vehicle pulled into the driveway of the house. It was a dark green Yukon Denali with Virginia plates. Lars and Violet got out as soon as the vehicle came to a stop about twenty yards from the jet. Jake was surprised to see them there. And where is Gary? he wondered.
Violet stood at the bottom of the steps, her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. Her cheeks were beet red from the cold. Lars was shaking the hand of the man who had held Giselle’s hand. He nodded, smiling and they parted.
What is happening here? Jake fought the urge to panic.
The attendant was standing patiently behind him the whole time.
“Watch your step, sir. The snow is accumulating quickly,” she said loudly to be heard above the roar of the engine.
He nodded and descended to his fate.
Violet stood back from him. Lars came up and extended a hand. His lips were a firm line across his face. His eyes gave nothing away.
Jake shook his hand, the leather gloves warm to the touch. Lars had driven, he realized.
“Welcome back, Jake. Good job.”
“Thanks. I think.” He cocked his head and looked again at Violet who shook her head and seemed to be chuckling.
“Come on. We have a long trip back to New York and a lot to talk about,” Violet said, turning and trudging through the north wind back to the warm sanctum of the SUV.
“It would seem so,” Jake said. “Like, where is Gary?”
Jake followed, adjusting the satchel in case he needed to get his gear.
“Gary is waiting in New York. We will fill you in as we travel,” Violet said over her back into the wind.
Jake took in Lars with a curious stare. He walked abreast of Jake, his breath pluming in the wind and trailing behind his ear like a freight train.