Penetrating the Rat's Nest
Disclaimer: Same as before.
"How's the tracking sensor working, Danny?" Harry said.
"Glen's at London, Heathrow Airport." Danny said, "Wade says he's bought a ticket to New Orleans."
"Good, pass the information on to MI6, we've got one of our own on the scene." Harry said.
For operational security, Tom's involvement wasn't even mentioned to others in the department. Officially Tom was going on leave, vacationing in New Orleans as it turned out. But Danny knew Tom was at Vauxhall Cross right now, across the Thames River, at MI6 HQ receiving his mission brief.
"Is the package in place?" Harry asked.
"Shipped and delivered." Danny said, "Do you think Tom will need it?"
"If Tom needs to use it, he's in a lot of trouble." Harry said.
"Ah, Tom, finally you've decided to grow up and cross the river." Jools Sivitir said, in his usual high horse tone.
Tom chafed inwardly, Jools' arrogance came from the fact that he held all the cards regarding information coming from outside the UK. He was a bit subdued knowing one of the two MI5 operatives who'd penetrated his EPCOT database was sitting in front of him, but he covered it up with his usual pompous, arrogant front.
"I see one of Harry's most promising junior case officers has fallen into enemy hands." Jools said, "And he's decided to second one of his senior case officers to retrieve her, how romantic."
Jools, one more snide comment about Zoe and I'll bloody break your nose. Tom thought. "And from my sources you were insistent on volunteering for this assignment. Is this true?" Jools asked, "Rhetorical question. But why not leave it for MI6 and the K desk (deniable operatives)?"
"Simply put, I'm the best for the job." Tom replied.
"A senior case officer pulling a job best suited for a deniable operative." Jools said, "This is slightly unusual."
"I don't like unfinished business." Tom replied.
"Still Ks are still quite reliable when it comes to these things." Jools said, "But if Harry wants a personal touch to this operation, I'm not one to argue. MI5 has traced Glen Gulia's whereabouts to London-Heathrow Airport. He just purchased a ticket to New Orleans."
"You've got a ticket, under the alias of Martin Kensdale." Jools Sivitir said, "Your legend is that you're a computer programmer from Australia visiting the Big Easy for a computer convention. As this is a deniable operation, you'll be given a Bank of Sydney credit card and a few pounds in cash. You only kit will be your mobile, pager, and laptop computer. Any questions?"
"No." Tom replied.
The gag tasted vaguely metallic, as if it had been used for washing a car before it found it's current location in her mouth. The ship, at least she was sure it was a ship, was obviously underway judging by the sounds aboard it. It had been at least twelve hours ago that they'd dragged her out of the van and onto somewhere she was sure were the docks outside of London.
Outside she could hear voices. "Is it safe to ungag her now?"
"The crew might hear." The other voice said.
"If she dies in transit, the boss won't be happy." The first voice said, "After all, she's British Intelligence, boss might wanna talk to her."
"Fine, get rid of that gag." The second voice said, "If need be, we can take over the ship."
The heavy steel door unbolted and Zoe saw two men enter. They were Brits, judging by their accents and their clothing suggested merchant sailors. One of them pulled a box cutter knife and with a swift cut on either side of her face, the thick tape was cut away.
"Please, can I have some water?" Zoe asked.
"Be glad the boss wants you alive, lass." The second of the two said, he was a Scotsman, judging from the accent, "Because had that not been the case, you'd just disappear...Of course after Paddy has his fun with ye..."
Zoe's hands were still fastened with handcuffs behind her back. The Scotsman grabbed a hold of one of her arms, and the smaller Englishman uncuffed one of her hands and fastened the freed end of the handcuffs to a pipe running through the space.
Zoe knew her best chance for escape was to either alert the crew or to wait until the ship docked or made landfall. She had to bide her time, keep her ears open, and keep her calm. Inwardly she worried though, what could they possibly want from her?
"Tom, you should look at this." Danny said, as Tom walked into the Grid.
"What?" Tom said.
"The autopsy report from that half-Heartless that Special Branch killed yesterday." Danny said.
"He was hit by almost a hundred and fifty bullets." Tom said, "Loss of blood would have killed this bloke if had gotten away, but what really bagged him were three rounds into the head, the snipers hit him damn near simultaneously from three angles."
"No, that's not the thing." Danny said, "His papers indicate he was an American named Wallace Greene. He was a crooked FBI agent who disappeared several months ago from the New Orleans Field Office during an investigation of a pro-Heartless cell in New Orleans."
"Right, but how did this bloke get all the way over here to the UK?" Tom asked.
"I was getting there, Tom, no need to be crotchety." Danny replied, "Anyway, Greene was the agent in charge of investigating this case when he simply vanished. His car was found at the bottom of the Mississippi River with holes shot through it. No corpse was recovered. What's even more interesting was the fact that he had bought many expensive things and spent numerous nights of revelry all in cash. There's no way he could have afforded several of those things on his salary. The Bureau ran an investigation and found out he was a crooked agent, someone was paying him but they never determined who."
Tom asked, "So he faked his own death, made his way to the UK, and recruited Glen with ever larger sums of cash."
"Exactly, but who he's working for, we'll never know unless you find Glen." Danny said.
"With any luck, Glen leads us straight to Zoe." Tom said.
"Tom, are you alright?" Danny asked.
"I'm ready for the mission, Danny." Tom said, a bit more irritation showing in his voice than he would have liked.
"Tom," Danny said, "That's not in question, but I can see why you volunteered for this assignment. Personally, you're lucky that Harry let you along on this case. You don't have to follow Rusty Puckett's way to save the woman you love."
"Right." Tom replied.
"Ramsley!" Glen said, "Please! I need those pills!"
Glen had arrived at Gracey Manor a few hours ago and less than five minutes ago he felt a spasm in his lower back, one so hard it felt as though his spine would shatter like a pane of glass. He felt the sharp pain in his chest. He'd not had a pill for almost forty-eight hours, and he couldn't do anything about it.
"Ramsley! Help me!" Glen shouted in agony. It felt like two white hot steel spikes coming through the bones of his forehead. He looked into the mirror and to his ever lasting horror he saw two antennae growing out of his forehead.
"OH GOD! OH GOD!" Glen screamed.
Ramsley came in, "What seems to be the trouble?"
"Can you reverse this?" Glen asked.
"I'm terribly sorry." Ramsley said, with his eerie calm, "I'm afraid the condition is permanent, Mr. Gulia."
"What about those pills?" Glen asked.
"They only slow the process, they can't stop it indefinitely." Ramsley said, "And if you had kept taking them your hair would have started to fall out in clumps, you would have gotten progressively weaker, and then your would slowly begin to decline until death."
"What?" Glen said.
"You've doubtless experienced the first conditions, shortness of breath at random times, decreased libido..." Ramsley continued. He described it so dispassionately, as if he were talking about shopping at the market, "I'm afraid you won't be enjoying your old lifestyle much longer."
Glen Gulia's everlasting horror dawned just then. The small favors in exchange for sums of cash, covering his enjoyment of his lifestyle, and now dragging the woman he loved into this. Inevitably he was tied to Ramsley now, for Ramsley was his only savior.
Zoe felt like her right hand was going to fall off. It was handcuffed above her head to a nearby pipe. Every so often the Scotsman, nicknamed Shark by his mate, the Englishman would switch hands saying, "We've only to keep you alive, the boss never said anything of yer comfort."
She'd just awakened from a fluttery dream about Tom coming into save her. He'd cut the chain on her wrist and carried her off the ship. Then the dream changed and instead she wore a wedding dress and Tom a tuxedo, and instead of off this ship called the Kariboudjan, an Armenian tanker, he was carrying her through the threshold of his flat.
C'mon Zoe, keep thinking. Stop dreaming. They're taking you to Louisiana, that's what the Scottish bloke was going on about with Long Legs for. He evidently hates humidity. Zoe remembered, from training and some reading she'd done, that to keep from going insane in captivity prisoners would make up amusing names for their guards. Long Legs was what she called the Brit because of his lean, stork-like build. The dream she'd had kept her going in a way, it helped her get out of the small steel room on the ship where she was held captive.
So far she was still gathering information for an attempted break as soon as she got the opportunity. At least she'd gotten the chance to have told Tom her feelings, and she knew he returned them. Her only regret, if she didn't make it, was that she never got the chance to explore a relationship with Tom.
The phone rang loudly at Tom's flat. Mia picked it up to answer it, not hearing Tom's shout from upstairs of, "I'll get it."
"Hello." Tom said. Mia quietly kept on the line.
"Pearce Booksellers, I'm looking for Mister Martin Kensdale."
"This is he." Tom replied.
"The book you ordered earlier this week is ready."
"Right, I'll be down to retrieve it." Tom replied.
"The deliveryman's on his way." The voice on the other side said.
Mia thought this sounded a little odd. To her knowledge, Tom hadn't ordered any books, and he'd not been anywhere near anyplace called Pearce Booksellers. It sounded like the coded messages that spies used to talk to each other. She heard the phone hang up upstairs and wisely hung the phone up and went back to her reading.
She heard the doorbell ring and heard Tom walking downstairs. She saw him tuck a plane ticket into his jacket pocket. He'd opened a package which contained a travel guide for New Orleans.
Tom went to the kitchen to use the phone. "Hello, Mr. Gardener." Tom said, "I'm going away on business shortly, can you watch over my apartment."
"Mia, you'll be staying with Danny for a few days, I've got business." Tom replied.
"Tom, what's going on?" Mia asked.
"I can't tell you." Tom replied.
They drove towards Zoe and Danny's flat and Tom detached the spare key to the flat that Danny had given him. "I've already called Danny up and he said he'd watch you."
"Where's Zoe?" Mia asked.
Tom didn't answer and merely looked at her. "Oh my God, this is about her, isn't it? She was kidnapped and you're going to go rescue her..."
"Mia, this is purely work related." Tom replied and headed off to his car.
Tom, if you think I'm giving this up, you are sorely mistaken. Mia thought and hailed a taxi cab. As she told the driver to follow Tom's car, with the promise of a big bonus added to the fare.
What flight was he on? Where was he going? Those questions ran through Mia's head as she ran through the terminals. She'd overheard he'd been seconded to MI6. She'd noticed the Lonely Planet guide that Tom had carried with him, about New Orleans. She went to one of the terminals to the New Orleans flight.
Tom waited in the line as the aircraft began to let the preboard group aboard. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a brown haired teenaged girl. Mia. Wanker. Tom thought.
"Mia, what on earth are you doing?" Tom hissed in her ear.
"Going with you." Mia said.
"Like hell you are." Tom replied, but even as he spoke he realized there was no way he could get Mia safely back to Danny's flat. Every second she spent in public without escort was risky.
"Excuse me, miss, do you have a ticket." A stewardess asked.
"I don't." Mia said.
"I can't allow you on this flight then." The stewardess said.
Tom sighed, "Excuse me, Miss Kensington." Tom said, reading the young woman's nametag, "I can't say why, but this girl needs a seat on this aircraft."
"Why?" The Stewardess asked, as Tom pressed a business card into her hand.
"Call this number." Tom replied and watched as the stewardess complied and saw her pale when she'd likely heard the words 'national security'. The stewardess let Mia on the plane and Tom realized his mission had just become a good bit more complicated.
TBC