The Westen Operation Log: No.6
Chapter 1: Fi's View
Michael watched the sailboat fly along the surf in the blue green water of Miami's Atlantic Ocean. He sipped his morning coffee and watched through the open glass doors. Fi had done a great job finding the new apartment and even came in under his budget. With the down turn in the market, great apartments were now a steal. He was still amazed at what she had done. Couches, chairs, tables of all sorts and a large flat screen TV, all a spy could ask for or not. It was more than he could ever remember owning and all in all, it was a little scary.
Though as Fi said, this was now their home, and so they maintained the loft as a place to work. There had been a lot of changes in Michael's life, some for the better, but some that made him a little more than uncomfortable. Fi moving in was the biggest change. He hadn't lived with anyone in a long time and again she was right. If she was going to be there most nights, she might as well be there most days. She did understand when he chose to sleep at the loft on that lumpy mattress on occasion. She did understand him.
Fi walked toward him from the shower, her long hair wrapped in a fuzzy white towel and her body wrapped in her silky and very clingy white robe. She walked to him and removed the coffee cup from his hand while placing her other hand around his middle and pulling him into her.
"You smell nice, new cologne?" she asked.
"I'm glad you like it. It was a gift from our last client. She thought it would smell nice on me too." He knew Fi was well aware of the advances of Mrs. Venetian, but Michael had been as professional as possible.
Fi smiled. "If you are trying to get me jealous, you are doing a good job. Now, how about you reassure me and come back to bed? We could set a new personal best!"
Michael smiled and leaned in and kissed her. "I would love to, but I still have to pay for all this and I have a meeting. Why don't you get dressed and come with me?"
"You are no fun Michael, but thank you for the invitation. Our new bedspread has come in and I wanted to go and pick it up as well as find matching shams and new towels. In addition my new gun has come in, and it is gorgeous! How about dinner?" She answered.
"Have you forgotten that my mother is expecting us? You can call and cancel, but I am not."
"Michael, are you afraid of your mother?"
"No." He said in a child like tone and looked away from her back out at the water.
Fi smiled. " I will meet you there. Six sharp. Try not to be late."
Michael watched her turn and walk down the hall. She was something to watch.
Carlitos was busy for lunch but Michael was able to find a quiet table in the corner. A table that suited him perfectly. Ordering an iced tea he sat back and read the letter again that was in the mailbox at the loft. He wanted to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Code was written through the entire note.
Dear Michael,
Congratulations on completing five stages since your return. It truly is good to have you back. You and your team have been very successful in tracking down priceless art on our pet project. JP has several up coming auctions already in the pipeline and it looks like you will be busy for several more months.
I hope your arm is improving. Please be more careful when golfing. I will need you to do me a little favor. A friend of mine is coming to town on the 22nd can you have lunch with him. He has a special piece that I think you should look at.
Your friend and colleague,
James
The director had a sense of humor and his letter was cleverly dotted with information he always did and apparently Michael was now a dealer of fine art, thus the apartment and the fine furnishings to go with it. They were all part of the master plan, something Fi loved. Michael looked like he had a new life and a new job. With a gun running girlfriend at his side, his squeaky image was now a little more than tarnished. He would hide in the open, just as he had always done.
The list was being reviewed one name at a time and teams were picking them off slowly and methodically. Michael and his team getting the bulk of the work. Five men and two women in six weeks and Jesse was working on more. By now the organization must be nervous he thought and hopefully not desperate. Everyone was being cautious. Even he was. They knew he was the source, but not the punishment. He was sure for now they were keeping their heads down, but he was always aware that they could come after him and his team if the news got out.
Washington made it very clear that for now, Michael was to still look burned. An undesirable. He was happy with that. It helped his cover. Now he moved through the underbelly of Miami, living two lives. An art dealer dealing more than just art.
The director needed to tell him something and thus the lunch was set. Government business hidden behind a lunch at a local restaurant. Perfect he thought. Messages were passed through more undesirables. People hired to deliver messages, people that could be bought. No direct contact, ever.
The man sat down directly across fro him. He was neatly dressed in Miami ware, older even a little gray hair around the edges. Michael had not seen him before, he was new.
"Good, now I can order. I'm starving." Michael said without introducing himself.
"I have something for you to take a look at. I need an estimate on its worth."
"Of course, but let's order first."
The man grabbed the menu and together lunch was ordered.
Once the waitress had gone, the man pulled the bag from below his chair and carefully removed the small painting.
Michael looked it over, turning it and getting different light.
"It's very nice. What do you want to do with it?"
"It needs to sell quickly, do you have a market?"
"I do. How quickly?
"As fast as possible."
Michael finished lunch over small talk and returned to the loft. He placed the painting on the work bench face down and began examining the frame. It was nearly seamless, and someone less trained would have missed it, but in the side the wood was a little looser and he used his exacto knife to cut the edges to expose the wire. Then the wire, small and delicate was connected to the small battery-operated device and a hum inside the frame began gearing up. Michael stepped back. It he was correct it would stop in a moment and he would be able to open it. If not, the device would smoke then burn. It too was clever.
The frame opened, a small hinge popped up as a small compartment was revealed. Inside a flash drive. Michael placed it inside his pocket. Here was not the time or place. After dinner he would show the team.
