"Oh, What A Tangled Web We Weave" (closed)

[LoriDean12345]

This is a dead story.

 

[bdt147]

I sat there staring at that book and what was written inside cover. "Ed, help me." So this is why they dragged out him of retirement down here to Langley. And to think I almost told that idiot Ellis to go fuck himself when he wouldn't tell me shit about what was so urgent. If I had only been told Dima was in trouble I wouldn't have acted like a pissy, whiny dick complaining about being retired and not being in the game anymore.

Mr. Muscles, with the ill fitting suit, points to the book. "Does this mean anything to you?"

"The book or the fact she's asking for help."

"Look don't be such a smart ass. Your protégé is in trouble. Big trouble. You saw the files. In fact, you knew about the her mission. Ellis checked with you before she was assigned. So did your girl go native? After all she ripped off the cartel down in Veracruz for 3 mil. Goes to Morocco and falls off the face of the earth. Then shows up in Paris nine months later doing glamour shots for ISIS. You know damn well her mission wasn't supposed to go down like this."

Mr.Muscles was right. This wasn't how the op was designed to go. But I knew Dima and I know something went sideways. And she did exactly what she had been trained to do. Improvise, deviate do something, anything to get the job done.

"So you're asking me the significance of the book. I haven't the foggiest. Maybe it was the only thing she had to write on."

I lied. That book has a lot of significance. Somewhere inside of it with all it's non-sensible rhymes and tongue twisters there was a clue to where she was.

"So, this Dr. Seuss book means nothing to you."

"Yep. By the way, how did you come upon it?"

"That's classified. And since you're retired, you don't have any clearance what so ever."

Typical of the mopes that worked out of OPS. Bad suits, making sure everybody knows they're strapped, not having a fucking clue what it's like on the outside.

"Are we finished here?" Because if we are, I got to get back being retired."

The tall one, Roberts nodded, and I got up to go. "Just be sure you let Ellis know where we can reach you just in case."

"I'm staying at the Marriott but leaving first thing in the morning. Can you call me a cab?"

Mr.Muscles gave me a dirty look. "Fuck you. There's a phone outside you can use."

Nothing but class these two and slammed the door shut as I left.

When I got back to my room, I fired up my computer and brought the book up on line. I sat back remembering the night this all came up.

Dima and I were down here at Langley for her final briefing before she left on her op. The last night we were here, we sat in the lounge and had a couple of drinks. Well it turned out to be more than just a couple. In fact we both got pretty gassed. I told her it was a good thing we weren't driving. Dima started to laugh, telling me she was completely lucid and began reciting some tongue twister. She told me if she ever got pulled over she'd recite that for the cop and he'd let her go.
She kept repeating it over and over. I asked her where that came from. She told me Dr. Seuss' "Fox in Socks", one of her favorite childhood books. "That book and specifically that phrase, will save my life one day, or at least keep me from getting popped for a DUI" she laughed.

I scrolled down my computer screen until I found it.

'Muddle Puddle Tweetie Poodle Beetle Noodle Bottle Paddle Battle"

I remember how she laughed at me every time I tried it. I never got past the first couple of words always saying Muddy Puddle instead of Muddle Puddle. I blamed my city of birth, Cleveland, Ohio because Lake Erie used to be called nothing more than a muddy puddle because it was so polluted. Was she in Cleveland?

I picked up my cell and called Ron Ellis, my former boss and the person Dima reported to.

"Listen, I think I might have an idea where Dima is but you gotta help me out here. I'm not that stupid to think those two goofs from OPS showed me everything you got. There's got to be more."

Ellis admitted there was. The book was dropped off by an unknown female at the ATF field office in Chicago. It was addressed to Ron Ellis c/o CIA. It was forwarded to him. Inside the book was a note, but not in Dima's handwriting. I asked him what it said.

Ellis told me to hang on a sec. He came back on the line and read it to me.

"Dima says Ed will know where to go. More to follow."

I told Ellis where I thought she was and how I figured it out. He told me to catch the first flight to Cleveland tomorrow.

 

[LoriDean12345]

(FYI: I will write First Person when I am writing for Dima and Third Person when I am writing other characters.)


Ed was barely past the Security area of Cleveland-Hopkins International Airport when two men sidled up to casually flank him. They had a distinct Middle Eastern look to them and wore cheap suits with a European cut to them. One casually reached out to grip the handle of Ed's carry-on bag as the other took hold of his elbow and whispered, "If you raise a fuss, Mister Harper--"

The man used the name he'd been given for the former CIA trainer, not knowing whether or not it was his real name. He glanced toward another Middle Eastern looking man at the bar. The man there waited for Ed to make eye contact with him, then slipped a silenced semi-automatic pistol out from under a rain coat just long enough for Ed to see it.

"--my friend at the bar," the man with Ed continued, "will start shooting random people. Children first. Then women. Then, who knows? Maybe we'll kill you Syrian double crossing bitch."

The man casually took hold of Ed's elbow and walked him down the terminal and out the doors toward the short term curb parking. The gun man from the bar had followed behind them, his gun hidden but still ready; and when they reached the curb a fourth darker skinned man opened the back door to a black SUV with tinted windows. The talking man urged Ed inside, but before Ed could make a move either way, a familiar female face leaned out to greet him.

"I knew if my tweetle beetles called, you'd come running, Ed," I said with a wide smile. My heart was leaping with joy at the sight of my old mentor, but I maintained a professional demeanor as to keep the men with me off guard. I needed them to continue to think they were kidnapping an enemy agent, not my most trusted friend. I looked to Falik and nodded. The man urged Ed into the SUV as I said with a humorous tone, "I hope they didn't scare you. It's, well, sort of their nature. Hop in, Ed. We've got a lot to talk about."

PM

 

[bdt147]

"Why Dima, how are you? Your new friends scare me? Naw, you should know better. They seem very likeable in fact. You must tell me where they get their suits."

It was a big relief to see Dima alive and apparently unharmed. She didn't seem to be under any duress. Whatever she was doing with this whole op she was doing it completely off script. And why Mr. Harper. That wasn't my last name. But it was the name of my first COS, Art Harper. Art was old school, an original OSS guy. I learned a lot from Art and always referenced him when I was trying to impart some practical wisdom on my trainees. But I told so many Art stories what was she trying to tell me. Only one way to find out.

"I guess I won't be needing a cab after all" I said as I hopped in and sat next to her.

 

[LoriDean12345]

(FYI: For any readers, I have altered the vehicle to be a stretch limo. Sorry.)

"Why Dima, how are you?"

I watched as two of the men entered to sit on either side of Ed, a third bending over to move to the center, rear facing seat with me. The fourth sat in the passenger seat up from but turned to watch the activities in the rear.

"I've been busy," I said with a smile. "You know how it is. World politics. International espionage. So many guns to sell, so little time."

Ed commented on my cohorts and their bad suits. I again laughed, with a genuineness I knew my old mentor would recognize. I said with a grimace, "Yeah, those suits."

The SUV pulled away and headed for the lane that would take us to the freeway.

"I guess I won't be needing a cab after all."

"No," I told him in English. I looked over my shoulder to the driver and told him in Farsi, "Watch the speed, but get us there as soon as you can."

I looked to the men flanking Ed, who were intentionally crowding him a bit. I barked at one of them, this time in Arabic. He grimaced, asked a question of me which only resulted in a scowl and raised eye brow. He moved off the seat and sat on the floor, his back to the door.

I smiled broadly at the big man trying to curl up in a vertical fetal position to give my mentor leg space. I looked back to Ed and said, "They make lousy lap dogs, but they're very loyal when this much money is on the line."

The car accelerated as it reached the freeway. I looked to Ed again and began explaining, "My employers have something they would like to get into the United States of America."

I used a strong Arabic accent in my pronunciation of the country name. To the men listening, it would only sound like I was funning with the strong way of talk that they took for granted. But for Ed, I knew that he would know I was indicating the nationality of those behind my current deeds. Of course, there were a lot of Arabs in the world, a lot of Arabic countries, a lot of Arabic organizations. So, I wasn't telling him much to be truthful. But then, I really couldn't in present company.

"I told them I needed someone I could trust," I continued. "Someone I could use. Someone I could exploit. Thus, you, Ed. I'm sure you remember Tripoli. And I'm sure that you would like your CIA masters to keep that under wrap."

PM

 

[bdt147]

The inflection on that one word in Dima's voice indicated that she was trying to tell me something. I thought it was a country, probably the one where this crew was from, but I wasn't positive. I didn't know Farsi or any Arabic at all. Since all of my field assignments were in Central and South America, Spanish was my language forte. That and killing people. The Agency trained me to do both very well.

One thing I was sure of they weren't Libyan. The Tripoli reference was too damn obvious. But she said it for a reason. Tripoli, Tripoli, what the fuck did that have to do with the mess she's gotten into. Tripoli and Art Harper. Then it hit me. Jesus fuckin Christ. Now it was making sense. Her using me, exploiting me,it all started to fall into place.

I looked over at her and thought to myself what a great student she had been. I hope I trained her so fuckin well she's going to be able to pull this off. I turned away from her and stared out the window. Did I come back home to die?

PM

 

[LoriDean12345]

I could see in Ed's eyes that he'd deciphered my rather vague reference to that ill fated mission that had changed lives forever. I glanced about the car to the men who thought they were working toward the same end as I. They simply continued to watch my mentor anxiously, as if waiting for me to give the word to end his life.

I spoke again to the driver in Farsi, "Use the north entrance. The south is being watched by Interpol."

I looked in Ed's direction again. I knew he recognized the language for what it was. But I knew that unless he'd finished a Rosetta Stone language course during my absence he didn't understand a word of it. Well, except for naming Interpol. It was the same word in many languages. I couldn't help but wonder, What's going through your head right now, Old Man.

I smiled, recalling how so often I'd referred to him as such during my recruitment and training. It had been too short. I don't mean I hadn't been trained long enough or well enough. I mean that my time with Ed had ended too quickly. Ironically, it hadn't ended because he, I, or some other power within the Agency had decided I was ready. It had ended because I was getting too close to Ed. Another day that close to him and--

I looked away from him, out the window to the passing city. I couldn't think of those days, let alone that day when he got the word that I'd suddenly taken an assignment and left without even saying goodbye. I'd had to leave without telling him. If I had told him face to face, there was no way of knowing what would have happened.

My biggest fear then and now was that he didn't feel the way for me as I did for him. In all of my years, I'd never loved a man I hadn't slept with as much as I'd loved Ed. You can't work with a man like that for long without shit going south.

So, that was what I did: went south. I took an assignment with a CIA-ATF Task Force and headed for Mexico. I had known that Ed wanted me to follow in his footsteps, working Central and South America. But my mind was set on fighting ISIS and other Asian and Middle Eastern entities threatening the US. So, I'd compromised: I went south to infiltrate a Mexican organization with ISIS connections.

And I hadn't been back in the US. Until now. I looked back to Ed just as the limo turned down a dark alley that ran between two long, tall warehouses. We stopped at a big box van parked across the alley. As my driver ran all four windows of the stretch down, men armed with assault rifles suddenly emerged from the darkened doorways of the buildings on either side. They shone powerful flashlights into the car, then backed away. In yet another language -- this time Arabic-accented French -- the men called out in both directions. A second big box van pulled out to block the road behind us as the one in front of us pulled away. The limo headed forward again, and in less than a minute we were pulling into a dark building.

"If you don't cause us any trouble," I said to Ed, almost duplicating what he'd been told in the airport, "You won't get dead."

I gave orders in Arabic to the other men. They hauled my mentor out, then offered me a hand like gentlemen. In a flash, two of the men had Ed's arms behind his back. They connected them together with zip tie straps. We crossed through the dark toward the only light in sight.

"Leave us," I ordered in Arabic, then again in Farsi after we'd entered the little office. I wondered whether Ed found it odd that men speaking those two languages would be working together. Iranians and Arabs, regardless of the latter's individual nationalities, weren't particularly known for cooperating in international plots. When no one made for the door, I repeated in both languages, "Get out!"

All but one of the men headed slowly for the door. The last one gave me a concerned look, then questioned whether this was a sound idea. He was obviously unsure about leaving me with this man. They'd taken a great risk escorting him with a gun in his side out of an international airport under the eyes of local police and the TSA.

I smiled, asked for and was given the man's silenced pistol, and lifted it toward the wall on my left. Without looking away from the man, I shot. All four men reacted at the sudden gunfire, some even readying their weapons. The one whose weapon I'd fired smiled, then laughed. The others relaxed when they saw the hole almost dead center in the middle a Bullseye symbol on an accident prevention poster proclaiming Safety is our goal! Hit your target by wearing your goggles, gloves, and helmets as required.

Once the men were outside the door, I set the weapon on the table behind me and approached Ed. I didn't stop until my body was pressing against his. I whispered, "They're watching. Make this good, lover."

I took Ed's shoulders in my hands, stood on my tippy toes, and pressed my mouth to his. Pushing my tongue forward as I parted my lips, tipping my head a bit to one side. It was supposed to look to the men beyond the glass like a passionate kiss between reunited lovers. In reality, it was the first time I'd done anything with Ed more intimate than hug him after my graduation from the Academy.

When I pulled my lips back from his, I whispered, "I'm in big fucking trouble."

 

[bdt147]

I figured Dima wanted to somehow find a way for us to be alone. One thing was pretty obvious, she was in charge of whatever the fuck this was. She kept barking orders in two different languages, Farsi and some other Arab dialect I didn't recognize. She must have told them to get out because they all left the office. All except for the little prick who showed me his piece at the airport. She softened her tone probably asking him for something. He reached into his coat and handed her his weapon. Hopefully she'll shoot the fucker.

No such luck but she almost hit that bulls eye poster dead center. She was a good shot but never could beat me on the range. I always joked with her after every practice session she'd just have to settle for being better looking. The little shit laughed and walked out.

After putting the gun down, she walks right up to me and didn't stop until her body was right up against mine. She's telling me to make this look good and the next thing I know her tongue is half way down my throat. It was hard to keep from falling right into her with my hands zip tied behind my back. She held me tight and kissed me hard for what seemed forever.

How fucking ironic is this? I've been wanting to kiss her like that for over four years and now when it happens, my hands are tied up, there are four guys with Glocks and AKs watching us and she just finished whispering that she's in big fucking trouble. Could it be any more romantic?

That kiss was more than a prop for our audience. Maybe it was the stress or maybe just wishful thinking on my part, but that kiss conveyed some deep emotion. She was always special to me. From the moment I finished interviewing her in Seattle, I knew she was going to be an Agency star. I remember calling Ellis that evening and telling him I wanted to permission to promise her a spot a soon as she graduated. Dima's parents were in the game so she had that pedigree. Plus, a friend of Ellis' in Mossad, who worked with her parents, called him and told of Dima's interest. Eliis said go ahead but I was going to be responsible for her training.

Over the next four years, that specialness turned into a deep sense of caring for her. I watched her mature into the job. She was light years ahead of any of her classmates. I kept telling myself her looks had nothing to do with it. But who was I kidding. Especially when all the male instructors kept commenting on her ass. But I was determined to maintain a sense of professionalism. That was my excuse for not recognizing that a hot 23 yo wants nothing to do with a guy whose almost 60. Fuck, I could be her father.

It seemed that a sexual tension between us began to develop and just grew more intense as the years past. I thought it was just me until that night at the Marriott when this whole "Fox in Socks" thing came up. We had just finished laughing over the 'Muddy Puddle" fiasco. Dima said she better get going cause she had to get up early in the morning to talk to Ellis. When I asked her what did he want, she just looked away and said nothing. I didn't think too much about it. This was my final briefing on her op but she wasn't scheduled to leave for another four months so I just figured he was going to give her some more dates she needed to be back down here.

I coaxed into having one more drink. She said Ok and recited that silly ass rhyme again and went right back to the Dima I knew. She kept looking at me while she played with her room keycard on the table, sliding it back and forth. I told her to stop because she would fuck it up. She just giggled and kept right on sliding that card closer and closer to me, God I wanted her to slide that card all the way over to me and tell me to take it. Halfway through her drink, she glanced over at me with the saddest eyes, picked up the card and told me she better get going. She got up from her chair and left without saying another word. I sat back wondering if she read my mind about the keycard and thought I was a disgusting old fuck. I know I was pretty fucked up but I went to bed thinking I should add mind reader to the list of her skills.

Ellis called me the next morning as I was driving back to our office in the District. He told me he wanted Dima to stay down for a couple more weeks. I didn't think too much about knowing how frantic things get around a mission going operational. I did start to wonder, however, when Dima didn't show back up after the third. In fact she never called me. Was she that pissed at me? I just thought about it. I didn't ask her for the keycard. On that Monday of the fourth week, Ellis called me to tell me Dima left last week to start her op. He told me there had been some changes and I should come down next week and he'd fill me in.

I leaned back in my chair, numb at hearing that news. No goodbye, not getting my final bit of advice of DFU, don't fuck up, nothing but gone. I called Ellis back that afternoon and told him I'd be down next week but not to see him. Instead I'd be going to HR to hand in my papers. I'd been threatening to retire for the last six months so he wasn't too shocked. He told me he'd get someone else on it and told me let him know if I needed any help with anything.

So that Monday, I started the paperwork. Dima was the only reason I went to work so why work if she was probably never coming back in. Four months later I'm officially retired where every day is Saturday. Golf, reading just doing nothing until three days ago. Now I'm in some half empty warehouse, putting a soft porn show on for four terrorists and looking at the most beautiful woman in the world staring at me with eyes pleading for help.

"Ya know, it would have been a lot more convincing if you would have untied me"

I thought I saw a tiny smile crease that lovely face.

"Oh and by the by. I think we're both in big fucking trouble."



PM

 

[LoriDean12345]

"Oh and by the by. I think we're both in big fucking trouble."

I smiled up at him and whispered, "You have no idea. Act one, scene two."

I hoped he understood what I meant as I reared back, then slapped him so hard that his head whipped to one side. When he looked back at me I screamed, "No one fucking abandons me like that you fucking prick!"

I stomped over to the desk, snatched up the silenced semi-automatic, and started back his way. Still yelling, "I could have paid any of those fuckers to cut your head off--"

I was pointing my free hand out toward the men beyond the door. They were suddenly on edge again, as when I put a bullet through the wall. I continued, "--but I wanted to see your expression when I put a bullet through your brain!"

I timed my rampage well. As I neared Ed and raised the pistol toward his skull, the man whose gun I was gripping burst back inside and began hollering in desperation at me in Arabic. I argued back, still looking down the sights at Ed's skull. Slowly, cautiously, the man stepped in between me and Ed. He was begging me, his hands up before him as he tried to calm me down.

The other men had been carefully moving up, too, and when it seemed safe enough, they grabbed Ed, turned him, and hurried him back out into the dark of the warehouse. I continued to fight with my Iranian subordinate for almost a minute. Then, just as suddenly as I'd slapped Ed, I turned and unloaded the clip into the wall while one long scream erupted from my voice. Every shot, of course, hit dead center on the now mangled work safety poster .

The Iranian called the men with Ed back inside. Once before him, the man told Ed, "I am sorry for this, um, what word, misunderstand. My colleague, she forget you importance."

I hollered at him again, but he ignored me. He smiled to Ed and said softly, "Woman. Uh, women, yes? They make not good spies. Too much, that stuff women have. Hormone."

I turned and strode past the men, glaring at Ed but speaking to the man, "Just be glad I emptied your gun, prick." I left the little office, but I knew what was going on behind me.

"My name is Banai," the man continued. "I am in charge. Not woman. Not Dima. I will tell what your need for us is. We have thing, item. We need brought to America. Your country. You help us bring item to America, we give you money." He leaned in a bit closer. "Money. And we let you live."

One of the Arabic speakers began to ask Banai a question but was quickly hushed. To Ed the Iranian continued, "We let you live. And we let Dima live. And we let Dima little girl live. Safe now, in Paris. But only you help. Yes?"

 

[bdt147]

I wasn't quite sure what shocked me more, how hard Dima slapped me or Banzai or whatever the fuck his name was, telling me that Dima has a daughter. My left cheek was still burning and I could feel welts forming on it. Fuckin a Dima, you didn't have to be that convincing. I knew she wasn't going to shoot me but she did a helluva job convincing those four she just might.

Now the baby. I started calculating dates and a gestation timetable. Dima goes missing in Morocco last January then shows up in Paris for a photo shoot in December. Let's see. February, March ummm November. Yep that's ten so that kid might be real. But how? Better yet who? A fucked up situation just got even more fucked up.

Banzai's staring at me,waiting for some answers. No doubt their item isn't going to be a box of Cubans. I'm guessing a small nuclear device or all the shit needed to make one. And where is it now? Sitting on some container ship waiting to make port? I'm sure I'll find out in due time. But for now best I play along.

"What is your item and how much do I get paid?"

 

[LoriDean12345]

"What is your item and how much do I get paid?"

Banai only smiled, then spoke softly to the other men, who chuckled. He gave an order to one of the men, who turned and went out of the room. I yelled at the man in Arabic to continue the theatrics, then stomped back into the office just as Banai leaned into Ed and said with a grin, "I not guarantee she not kill you. How do you say, watch back Jack?"

He laughed, just before I elbowed him out of the way and stared into my mentor's face. After a moment, I declared, "I need your help, Ed. So, I'm not going to kill you, even though you deserve it. I'm going to make you a promise--"

I looked around to the men, emphasizing to them. "--and they're going to keep this promise, too--"

I looked back to Ed again, finishing, "--if you help me-- help us, get our item into the country, I will not kill you, now, then, ever! I will send you on your merry way, with a million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds."

Banai quickly began arguing with me in Farsi, obviously dismayed at my promise. I didn't take my eyes off Ed, only reaching a hand out to point at the mangled poster and wall. Banai went quiet, but even out of the corner of my eye, I could see by his body language that he wasn't happy with my decision.

"This will mean betraying your country, Ed," I said with a challenging tone. "Can you bring yourself to do that? For a million dollars?"

PM

 

[bdt147]

Looks like Dima's taken back control of the situation. Ever since the airport pick-up, I've been trying to make some sense of what's going on. The op plan that I was read into has obviously gone way sideways. Pretty sure having a baby, if in fact Dima had a baby, wasn't part of it. And Dima must have stumbled unto something much larger than discrediting this Mideastern terror group with the Mexican cartels.

I need some alone time with her. I don't think this place is bugged or if she's wearing a wire, she would have let me know. Maybe a change in my approach with her can get me that one on one sit down. So far I've been quiet and compliant. Time to show the boys a little bit of my macho side.

"Dima, Dima, Dima mI senorita bonita." Let's see if using some Spanish raises any eyebrows.

"Ya know, a million bucks ain't shit. I'm pretty sure my pension check won't be coming anymore once I do this, if I do this. So the price of my assistance needs to be negotiable, depending on what the fuck your item is. The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward."

"As far as betraying my country, it looks like it's an opportunity for the student to become the teacher. Seems you don't have any problem with it, so maybe you can tell me how it's done. You always were a bit precocious, so let's set up a time for my first lesson."

I turned and looked over to Banai.

"As for you Banzai since your in charge I need to set a couple of thing straight. Number one, from now on, this duplicitous bitch," I turn and glance quickly at Dima, "is the only one I talk to. No offense, but your English is atrocious and since this is a life or death situation, I can't risk any misunderstandings."

"Number two. And let me make this perfectly clear, I could give two shits about her and the kid. She's the one who got my all jammed up in this mess so, if I do this, all I really care about is me, myself and I. So telling me something bad might happen to her or her love child don't mean shit to me."

"The last thing is will you please take these fucking ties off my wrists. I'm not going anywhere and I'm starting to chafe real bad."

Finishing with Banai , I turn back and look directly into Dima's eyes.

Translate all that into Farsi or whatever the fuck he speaks just to make sure he got it all. Especially the duplicitous part. I want to make sure he knows exactly how I feel about you."

"Oh and do tell me something. Whose the baby daddy."




PM

 

[LoriDean12345]

Nice, Ed, I thought, having to contain the smirk that wanted to escape at my mentor's shift in attitude. I knew that the head strong, confident man who'd trained me was still in that old looking, retired body, just waiting for the moment to show himself. Nice.

I also knew that Banai had used my daughter against me in his negotiations with Ed. I just hadn't been ready for Ed to use it in the way he did.

"Oh and do tell me something. Whose the baby daddy."

I looked to Banai with a hard expression. In an instant we were yelling back and forth in Farsi, with a few profanities in English to boot. Finally, I went silent. I feigned having lost the argument. I glared at Ed for a moment, then called to one of the other men in Arabic. He fished into small bag and tossed me a cell phone. I told Banai, "Cut him loose."

I stepped away to make a call. Banai whipped out a big knife, made sure that Ed saw the dangerous weapon, then sliced the zip tie cuffs loose.

My call wasn't long, just forty seconds. I tossed the phone back to the man from whom it had come. He removed the battery, smashed the phone, and tossed all the little pieces into a trash can.

"One point five," I told Ed, again up close to him. "They'll give you a million and a half, if you can get this done in less than five days. I have vouched for you, Ed. I have put my life. I have put my daughter's life in your hands. I know you say you don't care about me. And I believe you after what you did to me. But, my daughter is innocent in all of this."

As I was talking, my tone was shifting from hard assed, ruthless, cold hearted terrorist to loving, frightened, desperate mother. In truth, part of the change in tone was true. But part of it was just for Banai. He had expressed earlier doubts as to whether I would do as we were planning, even to save my own Blood.

I turned without waiting for a reply from Ed and -- in English, so Ed would understand -- told Banai, "Get him in the car and to the safe house. The Charter will be fueled and waiting at 4am."

I gave some additional orders in Farsi and Arabic as I headed out a second door and was gone with one final command, "Kill him if he tries anything."

The Team that had been tense and ready for action cautiously escorted Ed back to the car. They drove across town to the little suburban safe house . I didn't show up until almost 9pm. Banai had done as I ordered and offered Ed food and drink, including his favorite bottle of booze should he feel the need.

Lord knew I did. I stopped at a bar on the way back to down a couple of shots of Tequila. I chatted with the Team for a few minutes, then made my way through the locked door of the master bedroom in which they'd made Ed comfortable with a bottle and a television. I left the door open as I stared at him with a feigned look of anger and hatred.

"The room is wired," I told him in Spanish, knowing that it was the only language that only the two of us knew. I took the bottle and drank straight from it. "Audio, video. They're recording, which means they could have someone translate the Spanish later.

I took another swig, then offered the bottle to Ed. I continued in a tone that sounded serious. I wanted those listening to think I was still angry with my mentor. "But I did some hocus pocus to the hard drive, so although they think it's recording audio, it isn't."

I dropped into a chair across from him, just staring at him blankly for a moment. I chuckled. My tone suddenly became the genuine one my mentor would recognize. I continued in Spanish, "Ed, my friend. You don't know how good it is to have you here with me. To see you. Alive and well. I've missed your old wrinkly face."

I laughed, again swigging from the bottle. I was beginning to feel the effects of the earlier Tequila as well as of Ed's bottle. I made a couple of threats in English, for the eavesdroppers, then continued in a mix of English and Spanish. I wanted my partners to hear enough in the former language to think I was simply explaining the Op to our new partner, while I hid from the others that which I wanted only Ed to hear in the latter language.

"I made contact with a Saudi arms dealer in Guadalajara, per my original orders. He led me to a money man in Dubai, who led me again to a former SAVAK agent, an even older fart than you--" I smiled before continuing, "--who, obviously, had connections to the CIA from the days of the Shah."

My tone began to get really serious at this point. "I had to go deep, out of contact with the Agency, after I heard what the man had to offer. Ed--"

I hesitated, unsure of whether to explain the already known terrorist mission in English, for the others to hear; or in Spanish with hints at my obvious concern, just for my mentor. I cleared my throat and decided I could do both at the same time. I stood and paced about as I continued.

"We have cargo coming into Hertford, North Carolina, on a fishing boat on Friday." I knew that Ed would know cargo meant either bomb or infiltrators. "Customs has a presence there in the form of Security, but not Inspection. The cargo can't be unloaded without inspection. And inspection will mean an end to our little plan. Therefore, you--"

I looked directly at Ed for the cameras and bugs. "--will use your contacts in Homeland to delay the inspection of the boat until Monday. Between Friday and Monday, the cargo will simply disappear."

I raised my finger tips to my lips and made a puffing sound and gesture, as if signaling a magic trick. I pulled a chair over closer to Ed and sat down. There were only two feet between our faces. Continuing in English, I told him, "A million and a half dollars, Ed. It's a small bomb--"

I eliminated the doubt as to what the cargo was. "Maybe a dozen, two dozen, three tops dead up front. But the radiation will make the building uninhabitable, and they'll have to tear it down. And that's what this is all about. A statement!"

I stood and raised my voice for the others. "This fucking country! It's gotta be stopped. The shit it pulls in the name of Democracy around the world."

Ed knew I didn't feel this way, of course. But my cohorts didn't. Oh sure, I had problems with some of the US's foreign policy. But hell, who didn't? There were a lot of people who would have loved to make a statement about American outreach to the world. The difference between them and me, of course, was that I had a dirty bomb.

"It's time for a change," I continued, my voice a bit softer as I returned to Ed. I sat again, stared into his eyes, and then in Spanish said, "I told you I was in big fucking trouble, Ed, not because of a dirty bomb. I could have nipped this in the bud months ago. And the problem isn't my daughter."

I saw something in his eyes. I smiled. "Yes. I have a daughter. And the, how did you say it, baby daddy? He's not part of this. He's just a guy, a civilian." That wasn't true, but I needed Ed to believe that for the moment. "Ed, the problem is that I am doing this, leading this effort to explode a dirty bomb in the US, to get information on a more serious threat."

I donned my most serious expression and told him, "Ed. They've got a bomb. A real nuke. Ten kilotons. Almost the size of the Nagasaki bomb. I don't know where it is, but I can find out. But. I have to make this happen. And you have to find a way to help me make it happen and--"

It was at this point that my eyes started to glaze a bit. I couldn't believe that I was asking my CIA mentor to help me explode a dirty bomb on US soil. I drew a deep breath. I tried to hide my emotions from the cameras. I blinked away the threatening tears.

"You have to find a way to let me explode this bomb," I whispered in Spanish, "and yet limit the lives lost. I can't make the contacts. I need you."

I gave him another long, meaningful look, then told him, "They're-- I'm setting it off--" The words caught in my throat. I cleared it and continued, "One World Trade Center, Ed. Ground Zero. We're setting it off at Ground Zero!"

 

[bdt147]

I could see Dima fighting back the tears. Now I made the Art Harper/Tripoli connection. Once during her training, Dima asked me if I ever had to kill someone. I told her that I did and in fact had to do it several times. I also told her that I arranged for targets to be assassinated. Then I told her Art's story. He sent six Marines into a situation where he knew their chance of surviving was zero. The deaths of those six Marines ultimately saved over 1,000 lives. The agency covered it all up saying they died on a training mission. But Art knew the truth. A truth he has to live with everyday. He told me he thinks about the ends justifying the means. My message to Dima was that if you have to kill or do something like Art had to do make sure that you're certain the ends justifies the means. And be prepared to live with the consequences of that decision.

Now at 26, she's faced with the same dilemma and asked me to be a part of it. She wants to be strong for me, not let me down. But I'm feeling helpless and that I'm going to let her down because I have no idea what to do.

"Ok, no more Spanish just English. I need to call Ellis. That's the only thing I can do to make what you want happen happen. And I can't guarantee even he can help. But I just need to be alone to talk with him. Call Banzai in here and let him know my terms. If not he might as well just kill us both right now. But their bomb will never get into the country.

Dima gets up and opens the door and shouts out something in Farsi. Banzai walks in and a heated discussion ensues. She's screaming, he's furiously waving his hands and shaking his head no. They argue some more and suddenly Banzai storms toward the door. I thought he was leaving but instead he rattles off something into the hallway and a couple of seconds later another man walks in. I recognize him from the airport. He's the one who shoved me into the limo. Falik I think.

Banzai and Falik start talking in another language and Dima standing there with a very worried look on her face. The two men stop talking. Banzai says something to Dima who reacts to his words with a quiet resignation. Banzai walks over to me.

"Here is, how you say, the deal. You will go with Falik outside and call your CIA pigs. Falik understands English much better than I. You can have 30 minutes to make this all happen. If Falik comes back in and tells me it is not done, I kill you first. Then I call Paris and have the, what did you call her, dup something bitch, listen as her daughter is strangled. Then I will kill her."

Dima starts to say something but I shake my head no. Before I can say anything, Falik puts a gun to my back and leads me outside. We walk a couple of feet past the front porch. Falik motions me to stop. He's holstered his weapon trusting that I won't go anywhere. Besides I spot two cars on each end of the street that I'm sure are watching us.

"You're Falik right? I remember you from the limo ride. So you speak and understand English pretty good huh?"

Falik just stands there and nods his head.

'Well no matter what happens I guarantee that little mother fucking jagoff in there with Dima dies before I do tonight. Ya know what a jagoff is, Falik?"

Falik nods his head again and begins to speak in a voice that belongs on the ABC Nightly News.

"Yes in fact I do know what a jagoff is Mr.Stratton. It's a regional variation of the term jack off used almost exclusively in the Chicago area. I suppose you picked it up when you worked with Frank Sampson in Columbia."

Ok what the fuck is going on here. Falik reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cell phone and tosses it to me.

"It's dead but just dial a number and pretend you're talking to someone. I'm going to fill you in on everything I can over the next 30."

For the next half hour, Falik tells me the story. He's a CIA officer. The plot is not ISIS but rather a group of Muslim business men, a group Falik has been on the inside for four years, who want to bring the US to its financial knees. He's been with Dima since Morocco acting as her overseer for the cabal. Dima was chosen to get close to a guy named Reza, the mastermind behind the whole plot. The ex SAVAK agent, who is also CIA, made all the arrangements. Falik continues with the story.

"Reza takes one look at Dima and that was all she wrote. They became a couple. She moved in with him at his place in Paris and then there was the complication."

The kid. Was the kid the complication?"

"Dima convinced Reza she could do this, you know, using all of her CIA connections and knowledge. But he wanted more assurance. So he told her he wanted a kid, sorta like a guarantee. Dima had been in contact with Langley the entire time. Ellis told her to get out but she said no she go through with it. She pretty much became a recluse, even had a home birth. That was November."

Falik takes a quick peak at his watch.

"Look we're getting short on time. I'll fill you in on everything else when I can. I'll try to answer all your questions. Bottom line is Ellis knows everything about the statement bomb. It all been set. There's going to be an explosion, there's going to be world-wide news coverage, the president's even going on the TV after it all. But it's all staged. I knew about this in December so there was plenty of time to set it up."

"Dima doesn't know I'm agency. She only knows I'm with Reza. The other mopes are all ISIS and think this is an ISIS plot. They're here to take the fall for all of it. You can't tell Dima anything about me or the set up. She gotta think that it really happened."

"The plan is to leave tonight for Paris. The bomb goes off on Friday morning. After Reza is sure it went down as planned, he'll move quickly to put the next plan in motion. Once we get to Paris we'll figure out our next steps."

Falik looks at his watch again.

"We gotta get back in there. We'll march in, I'll tell Banai you've set it all up but you going to have to come to Paris with us. Don't worry that's all part of the plan. Just make it look good for him."

"Oh and one last thing. What's this beef she has with you? I was told she thinks you walk on water."

I just shook my head.

"I really don't know."

We hurried back in where Dima and Banai were waiting for us. Falik signaled for him to come over where they had a short conversation. Banai returned with a big smile on his face.

"Well done. You've just saved three lives. Get your things together. We're leaving for the airport right now."

Dima and I grab our things and walk out the door into the living room. Banai, Falik and two other men lead us to the limo. Dima and I take the middle seat.

As we pull out of the driveway, I take one final look at the safehouse.

"Ya know Dima, that's a pretty nice place you put me up at. But next time can we go to a Marriott. I need the reward points."

I turn and face her. She smiles briefly. She knows I wouldn't joke around if everything wasn't going to be alright. I hope she's right.

 

[LoriDean12345]

"Well done," Bania said to Ed, looking to me for a second before turning back to my mentor. "You've just saved three lives. Get your things together. We're leaving for the airport right now."

"Can we kill him now?" I asked without hesitation or humor.

Falik chuckled, more out of shocked reaction than true humor.

I gave my cohort a stare and said, "He's done his part. We don't need him anymore, do we?"

"He's not an idiot, Dima," Falik told me, still smiling as he looked to Ed. "He made guarantees with his contact. Sorry. We have to keep him."



Twenty minutes later, the private jet was shooting down the runway. It banked southeast until it cleared the city, then turned even more to port. Next stop, after refueling in Newfoundland, Paris.



I wanted so badly to sit with Ed and talk to him. To discuss the Op. To catch up on our lives. To explain what I knew he was curious about, my daughter. Instead, I curled up on a leather love seat in a thick blanket and fell asleep. I'd never had problems sleeping on planes. In fact, I think some of best naps had been at 30,000 feet.

I didn't wake until wheels down in St. Johns. The plan had been to simply roll up near to the terminal, get connected to a fuel truck, and be on our way. But something had happened while I slept, and both Falik and Banai disembarked to talk to a trio of men who came driving up in a black SUV.

"What's going on?" I asked one of the Arab speaking lackeys. He only shrugged. I looked to Ed, asking, "Wanna stretch your legs?"

I reached inside the jacket of the Iraqi who had been clueless about our delay and pulled his 9mm. I gestured Ed toward the open door and said with a smirk, "Please. Give me a reason to test how much we need you now."

Outside on the tarmac, I stayed just far enough out of Ed's reach to feign concern over him but close enough to speak to him without the others hearing.

"You're happy with what Ellis can do for us?"

Ed gave me his answer.

"Deaths. Damage." My concern was sincere. I still couldn't believe I was putting American lives at risk inside America. "Limited as best can be limited?"

Again, he answered.

We stood in silence for a long moment before I admitted the paternal parentage of my daughter to Ed. Of course, I had no reason to believe that Falik had already informed him, nor did Ed have a reason to tell me he already knew.

"I didn't want to have a child with Reza," I said, my voice almost cracking with the words. "But."

I hesitated, having a hard time explaining this to the man who, unknown to him, had been the first man I'd ever truly felt love for. Oh sure, I'd had boyfriends in high school and lovers in college. But I'd never been in love before. And while my outward anger now toward Ed was mostly show for my cohorts, I did harbor some deep resentment for the man.

I thought I'd made it clear to Ed way back then that I had been his for the taking, both body and heart. Obviously, I hadn't. Reza hadn't had any trouble taking me. From the moment he'd laid his eyes on me, I'd known I was going to be parting my thighs for him. It wouldn't be the first time I'd fucked for my country.

"When I realized just what Reza was up to," I continued in a low voice.

I casually looked back to the plane for eavesdroppers and found only the Iraqi standing in the plane's door, watching. I lifted the 9mm to the back of Ed's head and jerked it, as if shooting my mentor in the head. The man on the plane casually flipped me off and returned inside.

"I knew I had to go all in with him," I continued yet again. "I made him trust me as a conspiracy partner. I made him trust me as a bed partner. Then--"

I drew a deep breath, recalling just how deep I'd gotten. "He told me the only way he'd trust me as a Lead was if I had a child with him. I told him I couldn't be involved and pregnant at the same time, but he assured me the plot was at least a year out, maybe more. There was plenty of time."

Falik and Banai shook hands with the trio of unexpected guests and turned to head back toward the plane. My tone softened as I said quietly, "Reza wasn't too happy with the name I chose for her. As a Muslim male, he thought he should have picked it."

Ed turned to look at me. I wondered whether he saw this coming. I smiled, telling him, "I named her Leah."

"Let's get going," Falik called as he neared. "We have another stop before Paris."

I looked to him with feigned concern, asking, "What the fuck?"

I listened to but didn't really hear his answer as I wagged the handgun at Ed and told him to get going. My brain still on Ed's reaction to my daughter's name. As part of my undercover training, I'd met Ed's family once. Without him knowing I was about to do it, I declared that the two of us were lovers, that we were pregnant, and that we'd decided on his mother's name, Leah, as the name our love child. I thought Ed was, as my grandfather would have said, going to have a cow. Then, of course, I'd cracked up laughing, causing the others to laugh as well. I topped the whole ruse off by blurting, "A child with Ed? Hell, he's old enough to be my grand-father!"

Five minutes later, we were back in the air as I listened to Falik telling Ed about the changes. My mentor looked to me often. I wanted so badly to know what was going on inside that brain of his. And inside that heart of his, too.

 

[bdt147]

Falik is sitting with me telling me there's been a change in plans. Banai is standing right next to us. My guess this must be really important because he's letting Falik deliver the message. No room for error in the communications.

I'm trying my best to get my head into the game but that whole episode with Dima outside the plane has distracted me. The look in her eyes when she told me about her and Reza was one that begged forgiveness. Her voice was robotic, non emotional, but put on, as if she was trying her hardest to suppress the emotion.

I always felt like a used car saleman when I trained young women when the question of sex on the job came up. For the most part, it was the old "whatever it takes" attitude but it was made clear that sex was never a mandatory skill of their tradecraft. If it became part of an op, there was always the option to shut it down. But I knew it was bullshit and most of the women knew it too. Dima's call to Ellis and his offer to have her get out was only a CYA for both of them. They both knew she was in too deep, too much was at stake to quit on it now.

It was even more difficult for me because of the way I felt about her. There were so many times I wanted to tell her how much she meant to me, how much I wanted to lose myself inside her. There was this connection that started 10 minutes into her interview six years ago. I couldn't stop thinking about her that night lying on my bed in the hotel. It was stupid I told myself, She's 20 you're 55 what the fuck would she want with you. But over the years our connection grew stronger. I sensed she felt the same way but I never acted on it. The anger she's displaying is all part of the show but I know her so well that there's something personal to it.

And her daughter's name. My mother's name. When she said it was almost like telling me that should be our daughter. I remember that evening in Atlanta. Dima and I were there for training at the CDC. My cover had always been working as an employee of USAID as a health consultant from the CDC working on childhood vaccination programs. Dima would assume the same thus the training. My mom lived there with my sister. She invited me to dinner and told me to bring Dima. Dima was helping my mom and sister in the kitchen when all of a sudden I heard my mom shout "Oh my God." I ran from the living room thinking somebody was hurt. That's when Dima told me she told my mom and sister about our baby. Before the words "What the fuck are you talking about" spewed from my mouth, Dima started laughing and said "April Fools." Everybody had a big laugh because in fact it was April 1st.

On the way back to the hotel, Dima kept poking fun at me telling me about the look of absolute horror that was on my face when I heard about "our kid." She justified it all as a test to see how believable she could be. "All part of being a good spook, no?" and giggled some more. When I said something about being as old as her grandfather, she gave me he sincerest look and said, "I have a thing for older guys. Just like you." She smiled and giggled some more. Did she?

The sound of Falik snapping his fingers and yelling, "Hey asshole over here" brought me back to the present. Falik said there's been a change in plans, we wouldn't be going to Paris. We would be landing in Melilla, an autonomous Spanish city that bordered Morocco. Once we landed I'd have to call Ellis again and tell him there's been a delay and to move the timetable back a couple of days.
Unforeseen shipping problem.

I didn't know much about Melilla other than the fact it was a seaport and its economy was based on smuggling. Its' border with Morocco was a sieve and there was an overabundance of highly placed officials who could be bought. A perfect place to move contraband.

I looked at my watch and saw it was almost 9AM Cleveland time. That meant it's around 11 now in Newfoundland and I'm guessing another eight hours in the air so by the time we land, it'll be early morning Thursday. It gives me a little more time to figure a way out of all this. There's got to be a way to get Dima, Falik and me alone to work something out.

Falik says something to Banai in Arabic. He motions for us to get up. He cocks his head toward Dima.

"Go tell the bitch."

PM

 

[LoriDean12345]

Melilla. That made sense. I'd flown in and out of the tiny city-state with Reza one afternoon, so I knew he had a presence there. Hell, just about every international terrorist or crime organization in the Old World had a presence there, or at least contacts that would assist them for the right amount of cash.

Because of all this international crime, the CIA had a presence there as well. But I'd gone deep by the time Reza and I got there, so I had no idea who was stationed there, let alone how to make contact.

Banai and Falik talked about making yet another quick landing for business without going into details. I thought I caught some kind of a look between Falik and Ed, but after nothing more came of it I dismissed it. I knew they'd had a moment outside the safe house together in which no one else was listening. And while it always seemed as though everyone was back stabbing everyone else, I couldn't imagine that there was anything going on between them.

Falik was dedicated to Reza. He'd killed for Reza. Hell, he'd very nearly killed me once when I seemed to be wavering about having Reza's child. It was only my determination to stick with the Op that had kept me from being found floating in the surf of the Mediterranean one morning.

No, I couldn't imagine that Falik would turn on Reza for any reason. He had position, power, resources, and more, far and beyond that which your typical terrorism conspirator had. Hell, Falik would have to be an undercover agent to make me believe he'd betray Reza. And I think I would have picked up on that! Wouldn't I have?

After the men returned to their seats to rest, I ignored Ed for a suitable amount of time before making eye contact with him from across the cabin. I stared just long enough to let him know I needed to talk, then began sporadically raising and lowering the tip of my left index finger.

When I joked with people about Ed being old school -- joked with him, too -- I truly meant it. One of the first things he'd taught me when we went out into the world for field training was how to communicate via Morse Code without others spotting us. We had a number of ways of doing it: blinking eyes, flaring nostrils, clenching jaws, and -- the method I chose now -- tapping fingers.

I looked away from him as I tapped out: Bomb now in or soon transitting Melilla. CIA has station here I will delay departure and find way to get you to it.

I casually looked back his way for his response. When he finished, I waited for him to again look to my hand before I tapped out: Please don't hate me.

This time, I watched him. I wanted to see his reaction. Deep in my heart, I was dying. I loved Ed as a friend, as a mentor, as a fellow hero for freedom, justice, and the American Way. Okay, so, maybe the first two. But I was happy that we were on the same side in this never ending battle between good and bad.

But I'd known for years that I'd loved Ed in a way that I couldn't show. Or, maybe, hadn't been brave enough to show. What was going to happen if at some point I got Ed alone in a room with a bed? I'd often fantasized being in his arms, holding him tight, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Hell, I'd often fantasized straddling his groin as I bounced upon his hard cock, screaming out anything things that were anything but sweet. Of course, after I'd driven myself to orgasm in a fantasy of wild sex with my mentor, I'd often laughed in embarrassment at such thoughts. You're not supposed to imagine fucking your school teacher, particularly when he's old enough to be your father, possibly even your grand-father.

I rolled my nervous fingers up into a balled fist and awaited Ed's response to my juvenile statement...

 

[bdt147]

Banai motions to me to take my seat. He and Falik walk across the cabin and apparently begin to tell Dima of the new plan in Farsi. While they're talking my mind is racing, trying to figure out a way to get Dima, Falik and me away from the rest of the group. Falik told Banai I would have to call Ellis as soon as we landed in Melilla. It'll will still be early evening there so I may be able to catch him at the office. That's probably my best shot.

Once they've finished talking to Dima they go back to their seats. I'm sitting directly across from her but she doesn't even sneak a glance my way. I'm just about ready to close my eyes and try to get some sleep when Dima throws me a look that tells me to take notice. Then she begins tapping her index finger. Nervous energy, stress to Banai but I know exactly what she's doing. Morse Code.

There are some things in this business that are just timeless. Sure computers, satellites and drones made things a lot easier but there are going to be times when you just might have to rely on the basics. I taught all the new folks Morse Code. Most of them had to google it to find out what it was. Most were skeptical but Dima was different. She seemed to soak up all the ancient shit I taught them. Sure she never let me forget how old it was and how old I was to know about it. She would giggle and call me an old fuck, but there was something in the way she said it that told me she appreciated everything I was teaching.

It took a while but she finally finished her message. She thinks the bomb is already there. Well, I know it's not. I also think she'd been given bad info on what was coming in from Morocco. A bomb that size is big, around a metric ton. Melilla isn't the ideal place to load that on a container ship. I'm thinking smaller. A bomb that size needs about 8kgs of plutonium. Pack it and get it ready to ship, less than 50lbs. I'm guessing that's what were going to be delivering. And I'm also guessing were taking it right back to where this cluster fuck started. Mexico.
Easy to get it in. Easy to get it across the border to where ever they're putting all the pieces together. I'm sure the cartels would be paid handsomely. They're going to be losing quite a few customers when that bomb goes off.

I wait a while and "type" my response. "Gotcha. We'll talk when we land." She waits a while to see if there anything else. A couple of minutes pass and she starts another message. I'm guessing she wants to know what I'm thinking. Well her message does want to know what I'm thinking but it has nothing to do with the plan.

My finger shakes as a respond. "I could never hate you. I love you."

 

[LoriDean12345]

I wanted to smile at Ed's reply. I looked for witnesses first, of course, and found Falik staring directly at me. I mouthed What? his direction, and he looked away. I kept watching the presumed-terrorist as I tapped out for Ed, I love you two.

The satellite phone near Banai sounded. He picked it up and spoke to the unknown caller for just a few seconds. He stood and moved to the seat closer to Falik, talking quietly to him for a moment. The undercover CIA agent looks to me, as I am facing him, and to Ed, or to the back of his head anyway. After a few minutes, Falik walks over to sit closer to me. He talks in a volume and tone that sounds business like. I know he's trying not to alarm Ed to anything new, despite not using English which my mentor could have understood.

I didn't understand why he was a language secondary to me until, in the same casual tone and volume, he said, "Reza wants you to stay close to our new associate. He wants you to stay very close. Do you understand?"

I did. It wouldn't be the first time Falik had suggested I get intimate with a fellow conspirator. I was just a bit shocked that he was telling me to get close to Ed. I'd given him such mixed messages over the past weeks and months. At the same time that I'd been telling Falik and Reza that Ed was a skilled agent who, with the right pressure and incentives, could accomplish anything we tasked him with; I was also telling them that I would have preferred to put a bullet through the man's brain, or castrate him, or both.

And now, suddenly, Falik wanted me to bed the man? No! Even more amazing! The man with whom I'd been living, having sex with, and producing a child with wanted me to do this. It was just so, what, wrong!

And yet, as I looked to Ed, who was watching us closely, I couldn't help but feel overjoyed. I hadn't figured out how I was going to become Ed's lover, and now I had my in. My problem, of course, was that even after all these years apart, Ed and I were still mentor-mentee and fellow Agency operatives. Okay, so he was retired. But in the CIA's eyes, you never retired, so policy said that we were still coworkers.

As I contemplated the idea that this might actually happen, Falik dropped a bomb of his own. Still in that same casual tone and volume, he finished, "Stay close to him. Keep an eye on him. Make sure he isn't going to back out, or even worse betray us. Then, at the end of it all, kill him."

I looked to Falik suddenly with wide open eyes. I had no idea, of course, that all three of us worked for the same people. I had no reason to believe that Falik didn't mean exactly what he was telling me to do. It was an order from Reza, and when Reza told you to do something, you did it.

"When we get to Melilla," Falik continued, "I'll make it possible for the two of you to be alone. You can get to work then."

And then he just stood up, turned, and headed back toward his seat. He said to Ed as he passed, "Clear skies ahead Mister Agent Man. I'd get some sleep if I was you."

 

[bdt147]

I can't believe I just did that. What the fuck was I thinking telling her I love her. Even worse what would she think? To her I was the old fuck, gramps, the grammar Nazi, and "if you were only 10 years younger you'd almost be a Clooney" whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. And I know she was just as aware of that sexual tension between us. I know what she'd think. Just another lecherous old man who wants to get inside her pants. She wouldn't be wrong.

I had feelings for a woman like this once before. We were going to get married right after graduating from college. A low draft lottery number and Nam changed all that. She told me she'd wait. She didn't. Just as well. Because Nam is where this fuckin place got their hooks into me. Although technically I never made it to Vietnam. Spent the entire war in Laos doing shit that has long been redacted from any official reports. Somebody could FIA the fuck out of the Agency but those ops are gone forever. Never happened..

But now I have those same feelings for Dima. It's more than just the desire to lose myself inside of her. The emptiness I felt when she left me and never came back. I thought retiring would make me forget her. It didn't. All it did was make me want her more. There wasn't a day gone by that I didn't think about her, being in my bed, that beautiful young body there for me to worship. I wanted so badly to tell her how I truly felt about her. I wanted to do it before I retired but knew it wasn't the right thing to do. If we get out of this mess alive, I'm not going to fuck it up again.

I see her finger start to signal. "I love you two." I sit there trying my best not to ask her to resend. Did she really mean it? I look for a reaction from her. Nothing. She's good.

Banai gets a call on the sat phone. After he hangs up, he and Falik talk for a bit. Falik walks over and begins to talk with Dima. I turn my back to the both of them. I'm trying my best to avoid, for now at least, giving Dima any indication that Falik is one of us. They're jabbering away in whatever language that is. Suddenly it stops and I hear Falik get up and walk away.

I turn back and face Dima again. I can't quite figure out what happened because she looks almost happy and sad at the same time. Falik comes over and tells me to get some rest. Not a bad idea. I lean back and close my eyes. I see her finger typing out "I love you two." I smile. I'm happy she feels that way and wait until the grammar Nazi tells her it's too not two. Too much fucking texting.

 

[LoriDean12345]

Once on the ground, I was shocked at how quickly the various tensions between the conspiracy's members were overcome. Falik, Banai, the other three Arabic speakers -- one Iraqi, one Syrian, and one Lebanese -- were joined by three new men waiting at the airport, all Saudis. The ten of us moved together as a well disciplined team, knowing that we were on dangerous soil now. Our individual differences were going to have to be ignored for now.

The new members had two SUVs waiting, and even before the engines on the private jet had stopped turning, we were heading down the sand-dusted streets of the ancient city for an estate two miles outside Capilla de Santiago. Yet more men were guarding the walled estate. I counted half a dozen more at least by the time we had made our ways inside.

"Down the hall," Falik told me after chatting with a man who appeared to be in charge of the estate's security. "Dima, Ed. Last two doors on the left."

When I looked to the Persian, he gave me a look that implied I was to get to work on Ed. For my part, I'd practically ignored my mentor since I'd been told I would have to kill him at mission's completion. I wasn't going to do that, of course. I just hadn't figured out how I was going to prevent it while both protecting my cover and staying alive.

And, of course, there was still the matter of Leah. The presumption was that my daughter was still in her father's care in Paris. But there was no way of knowing for sure. And despite being her father, I knew that Reza wouldn't hesitate to threaten to kill Leah if it became necessary to ensure my loyalty or actually kill her to punish me for not having maintained it.

The bedroom was nice. Comfortable bed, lots of room, nice view of the Moroccan desert, presuming you liked deserts. I took a long shower, contemplating the changes in my life that had occurred over just the past 24 hours. Afterward, I donned a pair of loose fitting shorts and a cropped tee.

Then. I just sat on the bed and stared at the door that connected to the bedroom in which I imagined Ed was also sitting on his bed, staring at his side of the door, wondering what to do next about me.

 

[bdt147]

The jolt of the wheels hitting the runway aroused me an uneasy, fitful sleep. Looking out the window, I could see the sun beginning to rise. Pretty sure it's Thursday so we've got time to come up with something.

Up front Banai and his crew are starting to gather up Dima's things as we taxi toward the terminal. I get up and look for my bag. Falik sees me scanning the cabin.

"What are you looking for Mr. Agent Man?"

"My bag, asshole. What did you do with it?"

Falik stands and opens the overhead bin. He reaches in, pulls out my bag and holds it up high.

"It's right here. But let's make sure there's nothing in it that might help you or the woman."

Falik turns so his back is to Banai and his men. He unzips my bag, turns it over and empties its contents on the cabin floor, making a big production of going through my belongings. Clothes are strewn all over and I notice him paying particular notice to a pair of jeans. He kicks the jeans and my bag over to me.

"Pick your shit up. We don't want to keep our hosts waiting."

I bend down and start to stuff everything back into my bag.

"I hope wherever we're staying there's an iron. Look how wrinkled everything is."

Falik throws me a first class sneer.

"Just shut up and let's get going."

"By the way where we headed? I hope it's a Marriott. I told you I needed the points and...."

"I said shut the fuck up. Always have to be a wise ass, don't you. It's not a Marriott but I'm sure you'll enjoy it. The housekeepers were there just yesterday, polishing, dusting, the place was swept clean. All for you and Dima, our honored guests." It's as clean as a thistle."

"That's whistle, douche bag."

Falik grabs my arm and shoves my toward the cabin door. Dima and the others have already embarked. Once I'm on the ground I see two SUVs and three more men. They pile us into the cars of and off we go.

About ten minutes later we pull up to a huge estate. Two guards with AKs come to greet us and open the gates. As we pull up to the front entrance, I'm looking around, counting how much manpower and firepower is present. I glance over to Dima and I know she doing the same. There's at least six, very well armed guys patrolling the perimeter.

Falik hustles Dima and me into the house where he briefly chats with the guy who opened the door. Falik tells Dima to move down the hall and points to our rooms. Dima takes the first and I the next.

Well Falik was right. It is a nice place, I immediately open my bag and dump everything on the bed, looking for the jeans Falik paid extra attention to. I don't know if Dima heard his comment about the place being swept clean. No bugs and now I know there's help nearby. I find the jeans and inside the back pocket a note.

It's time Dima knows. I'll make sure you two are alone until this evening. We'll talk then.

I sit on the bed and hear the shower going next door. A shower sounds like a great idea.

After my shower and a shave, I look at myself in the mirror. Not bad I guess for 63. No belly, most of my hair and mostly still brown although the last day or so certainly added a few more grays. I think I can still handle myself if things get physical but it's been almost eight years since I've been in this kind of situation and maybe I'm too old for this kind of shit.

But am I too old for Dima? I don't need any pharmaceutical assistance to get hard, thinking about Dima is all I need to get my cock stiff. She loves me but in what way? Like a father or a lover?

Time to find out. I walk over to the door that connects our rooms and knock.

"Dima, you decent?" Hoping she isn't but invites me in anyway

"We need to talk. About that last message." And we won't be talking about homonyms.

 

[LoriDean12345]

(FYI: I changed what she's wearing. He hasn't seen her yet, so it doesn't matter.)

I almost leaped out of my skin at the sound of the knock. I wasn't the easiest person to sneak up on. The inability to surprise me was the reason I was still alive after a handful of close calls over my short but exciting career.

Yet I'd been imagining the night to come with such concentration that I'd entirely missed Ed's approach.

"Dima, you decent?"

I didn't respond. My heart was suddenly pounding. I felt like a teenage girl awaiting her first kiss.

"We need to talk. About that last message."

Last message? I thought, forgetting about the finger tapping on the plane. I had so many thoughts fighting for my attention that I was lucky to be able to remember to breath.

I stood. I hesitated. I breathed deeply, talking about forgetting to do something. I started for the door, then hesitated. I turned to look at myself in a huge mirror on the wall over an equally long dresser. I smiled. I looked good! I laughed, thinking, I look too good for THAT old fart.

A smirk spread my lips. Reza wanted to ensure Ed's loyalty. And he thought the best way to do that was for Ed and I to become lovers. And the best way for that to happen was for me to made Ed want me. I was pretty sure he did. Pretty sure he always had. But what if he didn't? Hadn't?

If there was one thing I'd learned about men was that sometimes you had to remind them that they wanted you.

I removed my button up blouse and looked myself over again.

http://s1.hubimg.com/u/124772_f520.jpg

Yeah. That works.

I moved to and unlocked my side of the door. I swung it open and stepped back, casually sweeping a hand of invitation for him to enter.

 

[bdt147]

I heard footsteps from the other room approaching the door. What the fuck am I going to do and say when it opens. This is ridiculous. Of all the tight spots I've been in over the years, all the risks I had to take, all the quick decisions I had to make, I'm dreading that door opening. My mouth is dry, my heart's racing and I feel like throwing up. I could have been killed 3 or 4 times in the last 36 hours and my pulse never got past 60. What kind of hold does this woman have on me?

Just let it all play out I tell myself. Be cool, don't do anything too stupid, follow her lead. I put it out there, the need to talk about her message so let her start the conversation.

It's a good thing I have a plan because I hear Dima unlock the door. When it opens, I'm looking at the sexiest woman I've ever seen. Dima's sexy without trying but she redefines the word when she does try. And right now, she is defiinitly trying.

She has some sort of black lacy top that's kinda see thru. The tops of her breasts are peaking over the material. I think her jeans have been painted on her. i'm hoping she doesn't notice the growing bulge in my pants. She waves me in and turns and walks toward the bed. I follow her in not taking my eyes off her perfect ass.

Dima stops in the middle of the room between the bed and the dresser. She turns and faces me.

"I see you're more than decent."

Well, so much for not saying anything too stupid. If I've crossed that line in speech, what the fuck, might as well cross it in actions.

I take Dima's hands and pull her to me, and place my right arm around her lower back my left around her shoulder. My right hand drifts down to her ass and presses her crotch against mine so she feels my hard cock. I cradle her head on my shoulder. Leaning forward, I whisper in her ear, "I want you and I won't take no for an answer."

 

[LoriDean12345]

I couldn't believe how good it felt to be in Ed's arms like this. Finally! I'd imagined it so many time over so many years. My heart had jumped when he stepped up and took me like this. I don't think I could have done it. So many things I'd done in my life, good and bad, with friends and with strangers, and I couldn't bring myself to do the one thing I'd always wanted to do: hold Ed in my arms.

"I want you and I won't take no for an answer."

I looked up into Ed's eyes and said with sincerity, "You won't get a no for an answer."

I wrapped my arms up around his neck, stood on the toes of my bared feet, and pressed my mouth to his in a passionate kiss.