Follow Focus
35
A Little Excitement
“WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME the four of us were traveling across country in a van?” Anna asked as we piled into our Suburban. Ronda took the front seat next to her and I took the backseat next to Patricia.
“Where are the kids?” I asked.
“Grandparents!” Patricia exclaimed. “We couldn’t really bring them to the airport in the middle of the night.”
“It feels like we should pull over someplace and ‘camp’ for an hour. I love you, baby!” Ronda said scooting to the center seat next to Anna.
“Why don’t we?” Anna said. “Maybe we aren’t equipped to camp like we used to be—especially since there’s snow on the ground—but there are plenty of little motels between here and Tenbrook.”
None of us needed any further encouragement.
We didn’t lie around in bed for too long Thursday morning. We headed into Tenbrook and were at Patricia’s parents’ house by ten. Then we simply had a few days to hang around Tenbrook, visit friends, and make sure the kids had a good Christmas celebration. I reminded Toni there wouldn’t be snow in Oman, so we should enjoy it while we had it.
We stayed in the hotel. It was sad to see that since the movie production had moved on, a lot of the life in the town seemed to go with it. It was the same sleepy kind of town that I moved into eight years earlier, though it had been scrubbed and painted. No one else was staying in the hotel.
Patricia, Toni, and I went out to visit Tony’s grave and make sure it had flowers on it for Christmas.
“I saw the place where the soldiers were kept in Oakland while they waited to be shipped out. There’s not a lot there now. It was a depressing place,” I said.
“They aren’t shipping anyone else to Vietnam now,” Patricia said. “It took a long time, but we succeeded, Nate. We stopped a war.”’
“I wonder if there was ever a time when the people of a nation rose up to stop a war before. Still seems most people would rather start one,” I said. “And it’s not true that no one is being sent there now. No American combat troops are in Vietnam. Did you ever wonder how many guys are in Laos and Cambodia? And how many people are there who aren’t in combat? Advisors. Embassy guards. Even people keeping the airport running. One of the guys we trained said there would be a hundred pilots flying in and out of Saigon to evacuate people. Thousands of Americans in Vietnam. And dependents. Guys who were there are still trying to get their Vietnamese wives and children out of the country.”
“Tony, we’re still fighting against the war, honey,” Patricia said. “We’re still trying to get everyone home safely. Maybe even something Nate and Ronda are doing with the embassies will help. We will always love you and respect what you did.”
“Love you, father,” Toni said, patting the stone.
Then she took Patricia’s and my hands and we walked back to town. I swore I would be the best daddy my little girls could ever have.
We spent Christmas Eve with the Bergs since they had a celebration much like my family had. Christmas morning, we made the rounds to Anna’s family, Ronda’s family, and a trip out to see the Kowalskis before we headed back to Camp Otterbein.
Mom and Dad had decorated the cabin with everything they could find. Dad had even managed to get a twelve-foot Christmas tree erected in the main room near the fireplace. That room had no second floor, but was open all the way to the roof. They called it a cathedral ceiling, which I though was kind of funny for a log house.
Kat and Julie were there, too. I hadn’t seen any life around Julie’s house the few times we’d driven by. There was a for sale sign in the yard.
“Yeah, Mom and Dad told us they’d be over in Des Moines for Christmas. That’s where Chris and Carl live with their two little ones now,” Julie said. “They wanted me to come with them, but that guy is just too creepy. Brian didn’t even want to go. We’ll go over to Tenbrook Sunday and spend a few days before we go back to Minneapolis.”
“I’m sorry you don’t have a better relationship with your sister,” I said.
“She chose her life,” Julie said, matter-of-factly.
“And how’s my sister doing?” I asked.
“Pretty good,” Kat grinned. “My sweetheart keeps me on the straight and narrow. You wouldn’t believe how much dope there is on the art school campus!”
“I hope you’re staying away from that.”
“It has a certain attraction, but I don’t need that. Not yet, at least. I’m afraid it might alter my style before I’ve really settled into it,” Kat said.
“How’s that coming? I kind of fell into my style because of the opportunities I had.”
“Yeah, you sure had opportunities. But I have a lot of opportunities, too. I’m definitely into drawing and painting women. But my instructors have really pushed me to broaden my horizons. I actually have an entire class this year on landscapes. I do pretty well, but I keep thinking that a scene would be perfect with a naked girl in the middle of it.”
“And here I thought it was just me and you didn’t want any other girls,” Julie mock pouted.
“Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful I forget to paint you. I just want to sit and stare at you. And touch you. And kiss you. And… you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” Julie giggled.
“So, we’ll graduate in a year and a half,” Kat continued. “I’m putting my reservation in now. I’ll have my senior exhibition in May of ’76. I expect you to attend.”
“We wouldn’t miss it!”
After our Christmas celebration and spending a couple of days out in the wilderness playing, Kat and Julie left for Tenbrook and Dad drove the six of us and our luggage to O’Hare for the long trip back to Oman—the last leg of our State Department assignment. In May, I’d be finished with my alternative service and could make a rational decision about what I wanted to do with my life. I was seriously thinking of going back to grad school and learning some of the new processes. Cameras were really changing and I wanted to keep up. I still preferred my black and white portraiture, but I was getting along fine with color transparencies and prints. Maybe I needed to learn color negative processing.
A lot had happened the last month of 1974. We’d trained in three Arabian countries. We’d visited Jane and Peter in London. We’d trained on three US bases. We’d been to another movie premiere. We’d visited family in the States. America had a new Vice President, Nelson Rockefeller, so it was the first time in history that neither the president nor vice president had been elected. And on the day after New Year’s, we heard that Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and Mitchell were found guilty in the Watergate break-in. At least it didn’t look like Ford was going to pardon them like he had Nixon.
The ambassador and his wife left Oman just before we got back. The next week, the Sultan would be paying an official visit to the US and would meet with the president, vice president, secretary of state, and anyone else they could foist him off on.
But Ronda and I had our next trip planned out. We reviewed the plans with Mr. Martin by phone and he approved them. We’d be heading to Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi, Botswana, Madagascar, and Mauritius. There would be no visits made to Uganda, Barundi, Rwanda, Swaziland, or Lesotho. We weren’t delivering equipment to Mauritius, the tiny island in the Indian Ocean. We would simply bring them greetings from the State Department and photograph the dozen or so employees in the tiny embassy.
Our crew was excited about having had a month off to visit home, but they were happy to be back in the air. Robert didn’t go with us on this trip, but we had a pretty good time.
We got back to Oman on Friday the twenty-fourth. Adrienne was at the house waiting for us when the embassy car brought us home.
“We’ve had such a good time this week. Toni took Adrienne to school with her. We went to the markets. We went to a few very fashionable stores and got new clothes,” Patricia said.
“I’m so happy you could come to spend some time with us, Fifi,” I said. “Especially to spend time with Anna and Patricia since Ronda and I got to see you last month.”
“But you get her for another week,” Anna said. “And where are you going to take her off to?”
“We’re scheduled for Iran and Afghanistan next week,” Ronda said. “We won’t be more than four days. Then we need to come home and prepare for our next long trip to Pakistan and Nepal.”
“You are world travelers,” Adrienne laughed.
“It’s almost over now,” I said. “Just three more months and we can go home.”
“I used to think world traveling would be so much fun,” Patricia said. “But now that I’ve been in Puerto Rico, England, and Oman, I’m thinking settling into our nice little home and staying put will be quite nice.”
“You won’t find me arguing about it,” I laughed.
We enjoyed our weekend and then took off again on Sunday afternoon. This time, Robert and Adrienne were both with us. Adrienne still had the black passport she’d been issued in order to accompany me on the trip to New Zealand and Australia, so she was clear to travel with us.
Robert was quite taken with our beautiful mistress.
“Do you travel a lot, Adrienne?” Robert asked. We were gathered on the sofa and adjoining seats.
“Some. I visited Nate and the family in London, and in Stratford, Ontario. Two years ago, I traveled with Nate to Australia and New Zealand. That was a lovely trip.”
“Ronda was staying close to Patricia and our newborn,” I said. “It’s hard to believe our little darling will be two years old in three weeks.”
“But you are originally from France?” Robert asked.
“Yes. I was sponsored to come to America several years ago and traveled extensively with our sponsor for two years. Ill health curtailed his travels, but he sent me to several entertainment industry events on his behalf. Like the Cannes Film Festival,” Adrienne said.
“You have some remarkable experience for one so young,” Robert said. “But look at Nate and Ronda. They travel far and wide.”
“All thanks to Uncle Sam,” I laughed.
“Relax and enjoy the trip,” Nancy said. “Anyone care for a drink? We’re five hours from Kabul.”
“Kabul?” I said. “I thought we were going to Tehran first. Am I that confused?”
Ronda started sorting through her papers and nodded. Robert pulled out his itinerary.
“Mine says Kabul,” he said. “I picked it up from the Telex on Thursday.”
“I’ll bet Josie had to make an adjustment for something local,” Ronda said. “It happens.”
“I didn’t even look at the itinerary we picked up when we got back Friday. I just made sure the order for equipment and supplies was correct,” I said.
We had a relaxing flight to Kabul and even had a drink with dinner. When we arrived, we went to our hotel with the plane locked up securely. In the morning, I went out to the plane with the pilots and an embassy car to collect the equipment. Ronda, Adrienne, and Robert went on to the embassy.
The training went smoothly and we were able to deliver our packet to the ambassador. He invited us to dinner.
“Afghanistan is the only one of the ‘stans’ that wasn’t absorbed into the Soviet Union,” the ambassador instructed us. “And it is definitely under Soviet influence. At the same time, stubbornly resisting. Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan are all Soviet states. The USSR is trying to buy Afghanistan. They are pouring millions of dollars into the economy. Afghanistan continues a policy of non-alliance, but Daoud is taking money from everyone he can convince to make a concession. Even China has invested here in several gemstone mining operations.”
“Is the country stable?” Ronda asked.
“Stability is an interesting concept. As long as Daoud can maintain control, things are stable. But like most Middle Eastern nations, this one is made up of several tribal factions. To them, central government is a matter of convenience. They are uninterested in most world affairs as long as they are left alone. I’m afraid the Soviets won’t leave them alone for long. They want a return on their investment and will pressure Daoud to give them more control.”
“Should we not be leaving equipment here?” I asked.
“There are over 100,000 Afghan refugees in Pakistan. We can stem some of that tide by issuing US visas. But the big question will be what happens when the Daoud government falls? It will, eventually. Either the US needs to be ready with a massive aid package for the people of Afghanistan, or we need to withdraw and leave them to their own. There is no way we should ever become embroiled in a conflict here. It would make Vietnam look like a cakewalk.”
Those were all sobering thoughts. The next day, we were given a tour of Kabul, conducted by the embassy military attaché, Lt. Col. Rolf Jacobs. This was mostly for Robert’s benefit, but we enjoyed it, too.
“I’m thankful for the wall around the chancery every day,” Rolf said. “I just wish you could put a protective bubble over the top of it.”
“Are you afraid of rocket attacks?” Robert asked.
“Oh, sure. Rocket attacks and bombing raids. But we have more present dangers,” Rolf nodded. “Arabs love their guns. They love to shoot them off. For any reason. Wife had a baby? Shoot a few rounds off in the air to celebrate. Maybe the neighbors will bring their guns out to join you. Wedding? Let’s all shoot a few up in the air. They have no concept that bullets come down. People are injured or die almost every day.”
“That’s a sobering thought.” We heard some gunshots in the distance and looked at each other. It was time to head to the airport.
When we boarded the plane to Tehran, Ronda and I compared our notes and composed our report. We arrived Wednesday near sundown and were more than ready to get to our hotel. The trip from Kabul had been turbulent and the landing bounced us all over. Ronda ran for the head and threw up.
“Honey, will you be okay?” I asked. I reached to touch her through the open door.
“I’ll be okay in a minute. Nancy, can you get my bag? I need to change my blouse.”
“Yes, Ronda. Nate, you go ahead and get things together with the guys. I’ll take care of getting Ronda pulled together,” Nancy said.
I took Adrienne with me and joined the pilots and Robert at the cargo hatch behind the plane. I saw the embassy car pull up a few feet away from the plane. The driver efficiently got out and opened the boot.
“We’ve got a problem with one of the cargo straps,” Jay said from inside the hold. “It’s twisted in the feed.”
The camera was free and I shoved a box of ID blanks to Adrienne as I picked it up.
“We’ll take these things to the car and let them know we’re tied up,” I said. I looked at Adrienne as we walked to the car. “Are you okay? That was a heck of a landing.”
“It’s nice to have my feet on the ground,” she laughed. “I’m not ready for a long car trip, though.”
I set the camera case in the boot and reached to take the box from Adrienne.
Suddenly, I no longer held the camera. The lid of the trunk was slammed down on my head and I slumped forward. I heard Adrienne’s muffled scream just as I lost consciousness.
We were bouncing over rough terrain when I awoke. Railroad tracks, I decided. My head hurt. I couldn’t see. A black bag was tied over my head and my hands were cuffed behind my back. I shifted a little and felt Adrienne beside me. I knew it was her by the scent. I loved that perfume. She reached over to touch me behind her back, letting me know she was also handcuffed.
We rode in silence another five minutes. When the car stopped, someone got out and we heard a door screeching open. The car pulled into someplace even darker than the sack over my head.
The driver got out of the car and there were voices nearby, speaking in a foreign language. I could recognize Arabic, but this was slightly different. I assumed that since we were in Iran, they must be speaking Persian. The screeching door closed and the trunk of the car was opened and our equipment removed. We were left alone in the car.
“Are you okay?” I whispered.
“They took me by surprise before I could defend you, master. I am sorry.”
“We’ll find a way out.”
I didn’t know what that way would be, but I stopped my panic to think what we’d been carrying. I snorted softly. Whatever they thought they had, they were going to be sorely disappointed. I hoped that was good.
Our captors were back and we were pulled out of the car. After being marched about fifty steps, with another door closed behind us, we were seated on straight chairs. Lights came on, though it didn’t help since we were still blindfolded. The bags were opaque enough that we couldn’t see through them, but I’d never want to use one to change film in. They leaked light. It didn’t strike me that we were all that well-secured, aside from the handcuffs.
Soon, the bags were stripped off from behind.
In front of us was a table with the camera case and the box of ID card blanks. Behind the table stood Major Maurie Sanders. I snorted again and Adrienne glanced over at me.
“What do you find so funny, Mr. Hart?” the Major asked.
“Well, Maurie. It’s just so unpleasant to see you again,” I said.
“It’s Major to you, kid.”
“You’re still outranked,” I sang back. “In fact, I should thank you for the latest promotion. Your stunt in Greece made the boss decide I needed a raise.”
“What did you do? Get a medal for outstanding bravery as you sat and drank your scotch while I left?”
“It was more like a congressional citation for humor. When I told the story, I thought Wally Morgan was going to die laughing.”
“He hates being called Wally.”
“Like you hate being called Maurie? I don’t have a hatred fixation on my name. I’ve heard they usually come from a general feeling of inadequacy. Parental shunning, perhaps. Still trying to prove something, Maurie?”
“Shut your trap. All I want from you is the instructions for how to produce a passport with this device. It’s worth a lot of money.”
“More than the $600,000 you jumped out of the plane with?”
“So, you can count.”
“It was an estimate. I wasn’t sure of the exact exchange rate for yen, marks, or francs. I knew pounds well enough that I just extrapolated from there.”
“You’re too clever. That’s going to get you in trouble one of these days.”
“Oh? What am I in now?”
“This is just a professional visit. You teach me how to operate the equipment and we put you in a car and send you to the embassy.”
“Sounds easy.”
The major stepped around the table and pulled me to my feet.
“I’d just as soon kill you as look at you,” he growled. “Don’t get any smart ideas.”
“You saw all the smart ideas I had the last time. I just do what I’m told. That I think it’s stupidly funny is my own business.”
“We’ll see how funny you think it is when you’re lying on the floor in a pool of your blood while your capable assistant there shows me how to use it. You get a new one since the last time we met? Fuck the other one to shreds?”
“Oh. Well, that’s the first error you made, Maurie. This isn’t my assistant. We were carrying a couple of passengers for the embassy. My partner was still on the plane when you grabbed us.”
“No difference. We only need one to give us the instruction. You want to keep her safe, now don’t you?”
“You want to keep her safe, Maurie. Her partner was also with us on the plane and he is not as nice as I am.”
“Who’s he?”
“Name’s Brice. He’s the director of embassy security. I’m sure he’s tracking where we are.”
“We’d better get started then,” the major said.
“You think I can show you how to work this with my hands cuffed behind my back?” I asked pointing my hands at him.
“Don’t try anything funny,” he growled.
“And compete with you? Won’t go there. You might as well uncuff the girl, too. You already searched us for weapons and I’m going to show you everything you need to know about operating our equipment without an argument,” I said.
Maurie unfastened my handcuffs and pushed me toward the equipment.
“We’ll talk about freeing the bitch when you’re done.”
I saw a small shake of the head from Adrienne, so I didn’t push it. I wanted to have her free so she could escape.
Once I was behind the equipment, I could see just one other shadowy figure in the room. I untaped the key from the top of the case and unlocked the cover. I took it off and began unfolding the pieces as I told him what each piece was and the order to deploy them.
The room was about fifteen feet square by my estimate. There were no windows. Two flood lights on stands lit the area where I was working. There was enough light in my eyes that I couldn’t see past Adrienne to pick out where the other person was.
“So, how does it work?”
“Unless you have power, it doesn’t,” I said. I showed him the plug.
Extension cords ran to the two lights in the room and Maurie motioned for his accomplice to get one of them. That cut the light in the room in half. The glimpse I got under the accomplice’s hood before the light went out looked familiar. I couldn’t quite place her, but I knew I knew her. It was definitely a woman, but she seemed very comfortable with the rifle in her hands. The major handed me the extension cord and I plugged the equipment in.
“It needs to warm up a bit so the laminator works,” I said reaching for the box of ID blanks.
He watched me carefully, but I was taking my time. I figured the longer it took me to teach him what he had, the closer help would be.
“Film,” I said flatly, standing with my hands at my sides.
“Where is it?”
“Haven’t you gone through my courier bag, Maurie? It’s unlike you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.”
“Where’s his bag?” Maurie yelled at his accomplice. She tossed my courier bag to him. He opened the bag and looked into it, then withdrew a white sealed packet with the film pack.
“That’s it. There are only 160 exposures on the jumbo pack. You can order more from the State Department,” I said.
“It’s just Polaroid isn’t it?” he asked.
“It’s a special format that isn’t sold commercially. I suppose you could order it directly from Polaroid. I doubt they are monitoring who gets the film.”
“Keep going.”
“So, you load the film on the back of the camera unit and drop the blank into the slot here. You want me to take a picture?”
“C, get in front of the camera,” Maurie yelled.
His accomplice grabbed my chair and sat in front of the camera. I had her move forward just a bit.
“Of course, for a passport or ID, you’d want a solid backdrop. White is preferred for passports. IDs could have any number of different colors. Now, the key that opened the case is very important. It also unlocks the camera. If you don’t have the key in, you don’t take a picture.” I picked the key up off the table and inserted it in the camera, turning it on. “Okay. Let’s see your pretty face now, Cherianne.”
The last time she’d moved I’d recognized her. She’d come in for an Attic Allure photo in Stratford last summer when I was doing so many for the women who decided to have a photo party. She hadn’t come to the party, nor did she pick up her photo. No one had ever heard of her.
She threw back her hood and gave me a sneering look.
“You recognized me.”
“It would have been easier if you were naked. You never picked up your photo. It turned out quite good.”
“Beat off to it at night?”
“It’s not that good.”
“Just take the damned photograph and make a passport.”
I snapped my fingers above the lens and Cherianne looked up at them. I pressed the shutter release. The flash caused her to blink and shrink away from the camera, but the shot was good.
“Now you wait sixty seconds,” I said. “It’s Polaroid.”
There was a whir and the sound of compression inside as I continued to talk.
“Inside, it’s not only processing the photo, but is also laminating it to the substrate under five hundred pounds of pressure. Hard to imagine that a little device like this can have that kind of hydraulics in it. That’s why it weighs so much. The camera itself is only about two and a half pounds. And here comes the card.”
I plucked it out of the chamber and handed it to Maurie.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s an ID card. Oh. I see. Of course, all it has is her picture. The camera has a ‘sample’ template in it. When you’re producing an actual ID, you have to use an ID template to enter the name and employee number.”
“It’s not a passport!”
“No. It’s an ID. Like mine, see? That’s all you’re equipped to make here, Maurie. You left half the system and all the materials on the plane.”
“God damn it! C, you said it was just a camera and film!” he said, throwing the ID back at me.
“I said that’s all he talked about,” Cherianne shouted back at him. “What happened to all the contacts you supposedly had inside? Didn’t they give you more instructions?”
“Nobody knows anything about this crap.” He swung on me with the gun. “What else do we need to make passports?” he growled.
“How many bullets in your gun?” I asked.
“It only takes one to kill you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know that. I was wondering how many more you were going to use to restore your manhood. Is this why the agency was so glad you retired? Have you always been so utterly incompetent?”
“You’re dead.”
“Major! Back off! You failed. Murder wasn’t part of our agreement. You were supposed to deliver the equipment and the training. Put away your sidearm.”
Cherianne was looking at the major over the sights of a military rifle of some sort.
“You’re not in charge of this operation,” the major yelled.
“I am now. Drop it or die.”
Cherianne was icy. I spared a glance at Adrienne to be sure she was okay. She sat there smiling. I noticed she’d slipped out of her shoes.
“Guys, why don’t I make a nice list of materials and equipment you need while you settle down and tell me what you want to accomplish. You know, Maurie, if you’d just told us what you needed when we picked you up in Greece, instead of pulling your bad boy act, you wouldn’t have a hijacking on your record. I’ll cooperate with you, just like I cooperated then. Who are you guys working for? I know you don’t need this stuff for yourselves.”
Maurie lowered his weapon and Cherianne relaxed.
“If we don’t have a working set-up when the buyer arrives tomorrow, we’re all dead,” Cherianne said. “Tell us what we need and how to get it.”
“O-kay. That’s pretty dire. I wish you’d consulted with me when you made your plan. You had me distracted with your boobs and I couldn’t possibly be expected to remember everything then.”
“I’ll distract you with them again if you get everything we need.”
“At least I have a picture of your face this time,” I said, stuffing the ID in my back pocket. “So, here’s what we need to do. There are two pieces of equipment and four boxes of materials that go with each shipment. All you managed to bring was the camera and laminating unit, and the ID blanks. In order to make the IDs, all you need is the ID template and a typewriter. You type in the information and stick the template in the camera slot. The camera has a dual lens and takes a picture of the subject and of the template at the same time. Then they get laminated together.”
I used my ID to point out the pieces.
“What’s different with the passport?” Maurie asked.
“The template has all the color and design of the passport paper on it. You type it out and insert it the same way you do the ID. The big difference is the size. It uses the full frame of the camera instead of half a frame. The material drops into the laminator and just the half that contains the photo and info gets laminated.”
“That still wouldn’t be a passport,” Cherianne said as I drew a flow chart on the back of the instruction manual. Apparently, these two couldn’t read or they would have started with the manual.
“That’s where the other piece of equipment comes in. It’s the bindery. In it, you need the blank pages of the passport booklet and the cover. We definitely do not make the cover for passports. They come straight from the State Department. In the bindery, the info page of the passport is sewn together with the other pages. Then the cover is adhered to the pages under intense heat and pressure. Finally, the booklet is folded and pressed again, then is trimmed to the proper size.”
“So, we need the bindery, the passport template, the ID template, and the covers,” Cherianne said. “Great.”
The look of hatred she gave to Maurie was so intense I thought he’d burst into flame. He seemed not to notice.
“Why are you so willing to cooperate with us? Don’t you realize that with a full set-up like you’ve described, we can produce as many legitimate passports as we want?” Maurie asked.
“Yeah. I know. The problem is that the whole system has a shorter life-expectancy than I do at the end of your gun,” I said. “The tech is already four years old. The US had an exclusive on it for two years, but the UK, Germany, France, Mexico, and Israel have already submitted orders for the same equipment. New technology is being developed every day and this will be obsolete in a year at most. If you’d have managed this heist two years ago, I’d have been worried. We’ve already had half a dozen embassies ship the rest of their equipment back to the US and only keep the ID components. They liked it better when the passports were manufactured in a dedicated facility.”
“Fuck!” Cherianne breathed.
“We’re screwed,” the major agreed.
“Take the shopping list and go to the embassy,” Cherianne ordered the major. “I don’t care if it’s obsolete. The buyer just wants a complete system. We deliver and walk away with half a mil.”
“They’ll shoot me on sight!”
“Not while I’m holding the hostages.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Do you think we’ll even get out of the country if we don’t deliver?” she yelled. “Get out! If you aren’t back by daylight, we’re gone.”
“We should just kill them and run now. Or just leave them and let our buyer deal with them.”
“Go!”
Maurie took off.
“What the hell gave you the hare-brained scheme to steal this equipment?” I asked. Things seemed a lot more relaxed with Maurie gone. Cherianne started laughing.
“The major has always been a… what did you call it? A harebrain. Even the CIA used him to plant false information that he sold to the highest bidder. He used to brag that he was in the CIA. But sometimes he stumbles on something that could actually be valuable. Nearly a year ago he started noising about that he knew how to get passport technology that could be used to get terrorists into the US.”
“It won’t work,” I said. “There are too many safeguards built into the system.”
“It sounded like a good way to make some money and make contact with some important people,” Cherianne said. “You should have heard his original plan. He wanted to hijack your plane while it was still loaded and fly it to a remote airstrip where we could auction off the equipment and you and your partner to the highest bidder. But the major doesn’t know how to fly a plane and would be dependent on your pilots. Too risky.”
“You didn’t choose anything valuable. I can’t believe they offered half a million for equipment that is available on the open market for twenty grand.”
“Marketing. I didn’t sell them the equipment. I sold them the dream of what it would mean to be able to create a legitimate passport for any country in the world. They could send operatives anywhere to create havoc with their enemies,” she said.
“So, are you a terrorist or just an arms dealer?”
“I am an opportunist. I have to deal in all manner of things. I went to Canada to interview you and dug up all the information I could. I even went to see your movie. It was very informative. That’s what gave me the idea for this caper. I figured you and your team would see through it right away. Why aren’t they here to rescue you by now?”
“I can’t believe you planned a robbery based on that movie. Don’t you know what fiction is? The kid in the movie had some super smart technology that was worth something. And didn’t you reach the part where the bad guys got caught or killed?”
“Mmmhmm. Is your companion well? She hasn’t said a word since we arrived.”
“She doesn’t speak much,” I said.
Cherianne made her first mistake of the day. She leaned over and lifted Adrienne’s chin. I saw the feral smile on Adrienne’s face as she looked up. The next few seconds were a blur of action as Adrienne attacked Cherianne and threw her to a corner, then pounced on her raining down blows. Cherianne was not easily subdued, though. She struck back at Adrienne, sending my mistress sailing. Both women were up on their feet and attacked in an instant.
The rifle went sailing, but I had to assume Cherianne had more weapons. She’d told me that the wooden sword in my props closet could be a lethal weapon in the right hands. I understood now that hers were the right hands.
I rushed the women to try to settle it down. It didn’t seem like Adrienne was at the same skill-level as Cherianne. I got close enough to punch at Cherianne and she hit me in the chest with enough force to knock me back into the camera.
What I saw, though, was that Adrienne consistently landed glancing blows that Cherianne dodged, yet Cherianne didn’t seem to be hitting Adrienne more than once out of half a dozen strikes. She twisted and threw Adrienne, but she didn’t strike her. That was it.
“Enough!” I yelled. I jumped between the two just in time to receive another blow in the side from Cherianne. “Fifi, stand down!” I spun and faced Cherianne.
“Who are you?”
Cherianne grinned at me.
“Col. C. Kline. Mossad. Hello, Nate.”
“Fuck me.”
“I offered last summer.”
“You know, I told Maurie a long time ago he’d get just as much cooperation by asking as by making threats. What the fuck is going on? Mossad is supposed to be the good guys.”
“Do you remember Munich, September 1972?” Cherianne spat bitterly.
“Hell yes. It was my first week working for the State Department. No one got any work done.”
“Twelve Israeli athletes dead,” she growled. “For that, we got five terrorists who were given heroes’ funerals in Libya and two more released to Libya to be celebrated. No one even attempted to find who organized them. It took me two years to track Black September’s leaders and set up this mission. They are the buyers expected tomorrow. And I intended to kill them.”
“And you think you can take them all yourself?” I asked.
“No. SAVAK will help. They are stationed around the perimeter and will close in when the buyers arrive,” she said.
“It doesn’t sound like a sane plan,” I said. “You’ll get us all killed.”
“I’ll protect you, though I’m probably not needed with your watchdog available.”
“What role does Maurie have in all this?”
“The same role he’s played in nearly every mission he’s been involved in for the past thirty years. He’s a dupe. He bought the whole line that I could get the equipment if he could get his Libyan contacts to the delivery. His stupidity in rushing the snatch left us with only part of the system.”
“And you sent him to the embassy?”
“It’s not likely he’ll go there. What we need to do now is blow up the equipment and get you back to the airport. I’m betting he’ll try the hijack routine after he calls his contacts.”
I looked at her hard for a minute and decided to trust her that far. I walked over to the camera and switched the key the opposite direction, then pressed the shutter release. There was a hiss as a vial of acid broke and poured over the inner workings of the camera. It would never be used again.
“Now get us out of here,” I said, grabbing my courier bag.
“You were never going to let them have the system anyway, were you?” she laughed.
“Not if I could help it.”
“Let’s go.”
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
