The Alpha Five Oscar (Part 3)
As George began to lift the door, the truck lurched forward again. Stetson and Amanda fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Suddenly Stetson found himself lying half on top of Amanda, his face inches from hers. For the second time in one day. Their eyes locked. He felt the heat from her body, smelled the fragrance of her hair, heard her take a shallow breath. He didn't breathe at all. "Are you all right?" He asked hoarsely. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead, she nodded. He didn't want to move, but he had to, the van was slowing again. He rolled himself over and staggered to his feet. Amanda was up instantly to steady him.
The delivery van passed the front of an ornate two story house and pulled around to a service entrance in the rear. It was a huge, ostentatious place with deep verandahs and wrought iron balconies. Beyond the long, winding drive, it was surrounded by a rolling lawn and bordered by thick, carefully trimmed hedges. Past the manicured lawns, the land turned rough and woody and even farther beyond, the grounds were enclosed by an imposing ten foot brick wall, its top laced with barbed wire. Uninvited guests were firmly discouraged. Vaskov and Chebetok, with George's backpack slung over one shoulder, climbed out of the van and hurried up to the door. At their knock, it was opened and they both went in. Watching them disappear from the bottom of the van door, George groaned, "Yeah, they have my backpack." George heaved the door up and hopped to the ground. Amanda leaped out after him and they both helped the still wobbly Stetson to clamber down.
Stetson took in their surroundings quickly and pointed towards the rough wooded ground to the rear of the property and they all sprinted for the cover of the hedges. They plunged through the bushes and ducked down on the other side. Turning, Stetson looked back at the house to see if anyone was following. But nothing stirred at the house.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here before they find we're gone." Keeping low, they made their way towards the rear of the property.
Inside the house, Vaskov and Chebetok were admitted to a spacious office where Maurice Kutcher sat behind a large desk. Kutcher was hunched over, writing slowly. He glanced up at the two agents, but meticulously finished his writing. Presently he laid his pen down, steepled his fingers and gave them his attention.
Chebetok jerked his head towards to door. "We have your delivery."
Kutcher glanced around the room, "Where?"
"Well....outside in the van."
"You don't leave expensive equipment outside in a van." Kutcher admonished.
"There were....complications."
Kutcher was ominous, "Yes?"
Vaskov pitched in to help, "An agent was tapping us from next door. I thought we could bring him as well." He shrugged, "They're both tied up."
Chebetok dropped the backpack on the desk. "We got the program tests and spreadsheets."
Through thin pursed lips, Kutcher said, "Get Lehman in here."
Within moments, both men were staring up through the open door of the van. Their prisoners, flown.
Chebetok's mouth dropped open, "How? How?"
"Search the grounds!" Vaskov screamed, "They must have just gotten out. Get every available man to help you."
At the rear of the property, Stetson, Amanda and George discovered the brick wall turned into ten feet of cyclone fence with three strands of barbed wire on top. With a grimace, Stetson pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to George. "I'll give you a hand up. Throw this over the wire."
Stetson braced his back against one of the fence posts and, lacing his fingers together, he hoisted George to the top of the fence. Flinging the coat over the wire, George quickly clambered over the fence and dropped to the other side. Stetson turned to Amanda, "Okay, over the fence."
"You're staying aren't you?"
"I'm going back for those papers."
"I'm staying."
He looked into those eyes again and saw her resolution. "Amanda-"
"I'm staying. Now, I know you don't think you need any help, but, you know, sometimes, you do. And I don't want to bring up specifics, but I do think I've made the occasional contribution to this partnership...Because that's what it is...a partnership. Besides, an agent never makes a move without a backup." Stetson stood there, blinking at her. "And," she continued, "they know your face."
She had outmaneuvered him...again. He nodded and turned back to George who was waiting nervously outside the fence. "Get to the nearest phone and call this number." He gave him Billy Melrose's direct line. "Explain everything to him. Tell him where we are and that we need some backup."
"Right!" George sprinted away.
"Um...Amanda, let me boost you up so you can get my jacket."
In the gathering darkness, security guards swarmed the grounds of the mansion, scouring the estate for the missing prisoners. High over their heads, in leafy concealment, Lee Stetson and Amanda King sat in a tree. Stetson had chosen one from which he could watch both the front of the house and the main gate. They had climbed to a thick branch protruding at a right angle from the trunk, where Amanda had settled in, reclining comfortably in a fork. Keeping watch, Stetson stood.
"You seem awfully good at climbing trees." He whispered.
"I have two sons." She said simply.
Stetson placed a finger to his lips then pointed down. A guard approached the tree and stopped. Looking around he leaned his rifle against the trunk and proceeded to light up a cigarette. He stood there smoking and peering around to make sure he wasn't caught shirking his duties. Presently, finishing his cigarette and flipping the still glowing butt onto the driveway, he shouldered his rifle again and strolled off. Both Stetson and Amanda blew out a sighs of relief. Amanda closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the tree. Stetson sat down, his long legs dangling on either side of the branch, and inched closer to her, reaching for her hand. Her eyes fluttered open, startled. She saw the concern on his face.
"Amanda, please, let me get you over the fence."
She shook her head firmly, "I'm all right."
"But I don't even have a plan."
"We'll think of something." A rumble of distant thunder punctuated her sentence. They both looked towards the sky. "Soon, I hope." She finished.
Below them, a limousine pulled up to the main gate. The chauffeur handed a white card to the guard, who studied it a moment, handed it back and waved them through. Stetson watched with interest.
"Well, something's going on." Moments later another car pulled up and went through the same routine. At the house, a man in a tux and a woman in a gown got out of the limousine. Stetson grinned, watching the second car arrive at the house with a similarly attired couple.
"Amanda," he said, "how would you like to go to a party?"
She looked down at her clothes, "But I don't have a thing to wear."
"Hm, I guess we'd better go shopping."
George Lehman finally found a pay phone near a convenience store. He stood, hopping from foot to foot and repeating the number Stetson had given him, while he searched for change in his baggy shorts. When he finally came up with several loose coins, he dialed and while it rang, counted the rest of his money.
"Melrose."
"Uh....This is George Lehman -"
Melrose's attention was instantly riveted to the phone, "Where have you been?"
"Kidnapped. I got this number from Lee Stetson-"
"Where's he?"
"At the Czech Undersecretary's house."
Maurice Kutcher had not moved from his desk. He would have liked to pace, but it would have shown a nauseating lack of discipline. Instead he settled for reading a book. After a brief knock, Vaskov let himself in and stood silently at Kutcher's desk until he looked up.
"They could not be found on the grounds." He reported.
"How did they escape the truck?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What shall we tell the KGB when they come for Lehman tonight?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I have men scouring the surrounding neighborhoods, but if I have little hope." He brightened a little, "We still have Lehman's papers."
"Yes. Perhaps they will post us to Afghanistan instead of Siberia." He sighed, "At least everything is going as planned for tonight's reception. I trust that will go smoothly.""
Vaskov nodded lamely, staring at the floor.
The lightning and rumbling thunder became more intense, but still no rain fell. Lee Stetson and Amanda King had descended from their tree and had taken up a new position crouched in the shrubs along the driveway. A car approached, just beyond the blind curve of the driveway.
Stetson rose from the bushes and positioned himself in the middle of the drive. With one arm behind him, Stetson thrust his other arm in the air. As the headlights hit him, Amanda was struck by how much he looked like a saluting Nazi. The car slowed and stopped. Stetson stalked around to the driver's window. He bent down stiffly and glared at the chauffeur.
"Ziegler. Estate Security. Please get out of the car and open the trunk."
"Look, the guard at the gate passed us through."
Stetson reached down and yanked the door open, "Get out! Open the trunk."
The chauffeur growled, but got out of the car and started towards the trunk. As they passed the passenger compartment, the window glided smoothly down and a man stopped them, "What's going on?"
Stetson turned to him with a small bow. "My pardon. We have information that an uninvited guest is attempting to attend tonight's reception. We must inspect every car."
"There's no one back there."
"I have my orders. I must look."
At the back of the car the chauffeur unlocked the trunk. Stetson looked in.
"There." the chauffeur said, "Satisfied?"
"Very clean."
"And empty."
Stetson looked at him and smiled, "Not for long." A short, but blinding jab caught the chauffeur square on the nose and he slumped without a sound. Stetson caught him as he fell and guided him into the trunk. Shaking his bruised hand, he gave him a quick pat down and in his jacket pocket, struck gold, a small pistol.
"Ah," he murmured, "Chauffeur insurance." He slammed the lid shut and went around to the passenger window.
The man had his head stuck completely out the window. "What's going on back there?'
Stetson pointed the pistol in his face, "Get out."
"I will not."
He touched the man's forehead with the barrel. "Get out."
"Okay, okay." The man pushed the door open, "Stay right there, dear."
Stetson pulled the man away from the car and leaned to look in the back seat. A beautiful young woman sat there with her mouth open. "Yes, dear, you stay right there." Amanda joined him at the door, "Now you behave yourself and do what the lady says, or I'll come back and help."
"What?"
Amanda popped into the car and closed the door. Stetson swung his prisoner around, "Okay, partner, get out of those spiffy duds."
"What?"
"Now! And shake a leg."
Inside the car, Amanda looked at the lovely young woman. "I'm really sorry about this, but I need your clothes."
"I don't think so." She snapped.
"Well...." she looked towards the door, "You don't really want him to come back and help you, do you?" The young lady considered this option for a second, but when Amanda reached for the door handle, she quickly began to strip.
In Amanda's kitchen, Dottie West tapped her foot impatiently. These IFF people were really very rude. When they needed Amanda, they expected her to drop everything and rush off to work. When Dottie wished to speak to her daughter, they could think of a thousand reasons why she couldn't. Or left her hanging on hold. She often thought that while she waited, they were thinking up new excuses.
Finally a voice on the other end said, "I'm really very sorry, Ms. King is still tied up in a meeting with our Hong Kong reps. Could someone else help you?"
"A meeting?...It's ten o'clock!"
"It's ten o'clock in the morning in Hong Kong, ma'am."
"Oh. Is Mr. Steadman available?"
"I'm sorry, he's at the same meeting."
"Of course he is. Don't you think they're spending an awful lot of time at meetings, my daughter and this Mr. Steadman?"
"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"
"Never mind. Thank you."
Dottie hung the phone up with a glare. She crossed her arms, fuming in the silence of the kitchen. Slowly, she cocked her head to one side, listening. There was too much silence for a household with two boys. "Philip! Jamie! What are you doing?"
As George began to lift the door, the truck lurched forward again. Stetson and Amanda fell in a tangled heap on the floor. Suddenly Stetson found himself lying half on top of Amanda, his face inches from hers. For the second time in one day. Their eyes locked. He felt the heat from her body, smelled the fragrance of her hair, heard her take a shallow breath. He didn't breathe at all. "Are you all right?" He asked hoarsely. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead, she nodded. He didn't want to move, but he had to, the van was slowing again. He rolled himself over and staggered to his feet. Amanda was up instantly to steady him.
The delivery van passed the front of an ornate two story house and pulled around to a service entrance in the rear. It was a huge, ostentatious place with deep verandahs and wrought iron balconies. Beyond the long, winding drive, it was surrounded by a rolling lawn and bordered by thick, carefully trimmed hedges. Past the manicured lawns, the land turned rough and woody and even farther beyond, the grounds were enclosed by an imposing ten foot brick wall, its top laced with barbed wire. Uninvited guests were firmly discouraged. Vaskov and Chebetok, with George's backpack slung over one shoulder, climbed out of the van and hurried up to the door. At their knock, it was opened and they both went in. Watching them disappear from the bottom of the van door, George groaned, "Yeah, they have my backpack." George heaved the door up and hopped to the ground. Amanda leaped out after him and they both helped the still wobbly Stetson to clamber down.
Stetson took in their surroundings quickly and pointed towards the rough wooded ground to the rear of the property and they all sprinted for the cover of the hedges. They plunged through the bushes and ducked down on the other side. Turning, Stetson looked back at the house to see if anyone was following. But nothing stirred at the house.
"Come on, we've got to get out of here before they find we're gone." Keeping low, they made their way towards the rear of the property.
Inside the house, Vaskov and Chebetok were admitted to a spacious office where Maurice Kutcher sat behind a large desk. Kutcher was hunched over, writing slowly. He glanced up at the two agents, but meticulously finished his writing. Presently he laid his pen down, steepled his fingers and gave them his attention.
Chebetok jerked his head towards to door. "We have your delivery."
Kutcher glanced around the room, "Where?"
"Well....outside in the van."
"You don't leave expensive equipment outside in a van." Kutcher admonished.
"There were....complications."
Kutcher was ominous, "Yes?"
Vaskov pitched in to help, "An agent was tapping us from next door. I thought we could bring him as well." He shrugged, "They're both tied up."
Chebetok dropped the backpack on the desk. "We got the program tests and spreadsheets."
Through thin pursed lips, Kutcher said, "Get Lehman in here."
Within moments, both men were staring up through the open door of the van. Their prisoners, flown.
Chebetok's mouth dropped open, "How? How?"
"Search the grounds!" Vaskov screamed, "They must have just gotten out. Get every available man to help you."
At the rear of the property, Stetson, Amanda and George discovered the brick wall turned into ten feet of cyclone fence with three strands of barbed wire on top. With a grimace, Stetson pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to George. "I'll give you a hand up. Throw this over the wire."
Stetson braced his back against one of the fence posts and, lacing his fingers together, he hoisted George to the top of the fence. Flinging the coat over the wire, George quickly clambered over the fence and dropped to the other side. Stetson turned to Amanda, "Okay, over the fence."
"You're staying aren't you?"
"I'm going back for those papers."
"I'm staying."
He looked into those eyes again and saw her resolution. "Amanda-"
"I'm staying. Now, I know you don't think you need any help, but, you know, sometimes, you do. And I don't want to bring up specifics, but I do think I've made the occasional contribution to this partnership...Because that's what it is...a partnership. Besides, an agent never makes a move without a backup." Stetson stood there, blinking at her. "And," she continued, "they know your face."
She had outmaneuvered him...again. He nodded and turned back to George who was waiting nervously outside the fence. "Get to the nearest phone and call this number." He gave him Billy Melrose's direct line. "Explain everything to him. Tell him where we are and that we need some backup."
"Right!" George sprinted away.
"Um...Amanda, let me boost you up so you can get my jacket."
In the gathering darkness, security guards swarmed the grounds of the mansion, scouring the estate for the missing prisoners. High over their heads, in leafy concealment, Lee Stetson and Amanda King sat in a tree. Stetson had chosen one from which he could watch both the front of the house and the main gate. They had climbed to a thick branch protruding at a right angle from the trunk, where Amanda had settled in, reclining comfortably in a fork. Keeping watch, Stetson stood.
"You seem awfully good at climbing trees." He whispered.
"I have two sons." She said simply.
Stetson placed a finger to his lips then pointed down. A guard approached the tree and stopped. Looking around he leaned his rifle against the trunk and proceeded to light up a cigarette. He stood there smoking and peering around to make sure he wasn't caught shirking his duties. Presently, finishing his cigarette and flipping the still glowing butt onto the driveway, he shouldered his rifle again and strolled off. Both Stetson and Amanda blew out a sighs of relief. Amanda closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the tree. Stetson sat down, his long legs dangling on either side of the branch, and inched closer to her, reaching for her hand. Her eyes fluttered open, startled. She saw the concern on his face.
"Amanda, please, let me get you over the fence."
She shook her head firmly, "I'm all right."
"But I don't even have a plan."
"We'll think of something." A rumble of distant thunder punctuated her sentence. They both looked towards the sky. "Soon, I hope." She finished.
Below them, a limousine pulled up to the main gate. The chauffeur handed a white card to the guard, who studied it a moment, handed it back and waved them through. Stetson watched with interest.
"Well, something's going on." Moments later another car pulled up and went through the same routine. At the house, a man in a tux and a woman in a gown got out of the limousine. Stetson grinned, watching the second car arrive at the house with a similarly attired couple.
"Amanda," he said, "how would you like to go to a party?"
She looked down at her clothes, "But I don't have a thing to wear."
"Hm, I guess we'd better go shopping."
George Lehman finally found a pay phone near a convenience store. He stood, hopping from foot to foot and repeating the number Stetson had given him, while he searched for change in his baggy shorts. When he finally came up with several loose coins, he dialed and while it rang, counted the rest of his money.
"Melrose."
"Uh....This is George Lehman -"
Melrose's attention was instantly riveted to the phone, "Where have you been?"
"Kidnapped. I got this number from Lee Stetson-"
"Where's he?"
"At the Czech Undersecretary's house."
Maurice Kutcher had not moved from his desk. He would have liked to pace, but it would have shown a nauseating lack of discipline. Instead he settled for reading a book. After a brief knock, Vaskov let himself in and stood silently at Kutcher's desk until he looked up.
"They could not be found on the grounds." He reported.
"How did they escape the truck?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What shall we tell the KGB when they come for Lehman tonight?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I have men scouring the surrounding neighborhoods, but if I have little hope." He brightened a little, "We still have Lehman's papers."
"Yes. Perhaps they will post us to Afghanistan instead of Siberia." He sighed, "At least everything is going as planned for tonight's reception. I trust that will go smoothly.""
Vaskov nodded lamely, staring at the floor.
The lightning and rumbling thunder became more intense, but still no rain fell. Lee Stetson and Amanda King had descended from their tree and had taken up a new position crouched in the shrubs along the driveway. A car approached, just beyond the blind curve of the driveway.
Stetson rose from the bushes and positioned himself in the middle of the drive. With one arm behind him, Stetson thrust his other arm in the air. As the headlights hit him, Amanda was struck by how much he looked like a saluting Nazi. The car slowed and stopped. Stetson stalked around to the driver's window. He bent down stiffly and glared at the chauffeur.
"Ziegler. Estate Security. Please get out of the car and open the trunk."
"Look, the guard at the gate passed us through."
Stetson reached down and yanked the door open, "Get out! Open the trunk."
The chauffeur growled, but got out of the car and started towards the trunk. As they passed the passenger compartment, the window glided smoothly down and a man stopped them, "What's going on?"
Stetson turned to him with a small bow. "My pardon. We have information that an uninvited guest is attempting to attend tonight's reception. We must inspect every car."
"There's no one back there."
"I have my orders. I must look."
At the back of the car the chauffeur unlocked the trunk. Stetson looked in.
"There." the chauffeur said, "Satisfied?"
"Very clean."
"And empty."
Stetson looked at him and smiled, "Not for long." A short, but blinding jab caught the chauffeur square on the nose and he slumped without a sound. Stetson caught him as he fell and guided him into the trunk. Shaking his bruised hand, he gave him a quick pat down and in his jacket pocket, struck gold, a small pistol.
"Ah," he murmured, "Chauffeur insurance." He slammed the lid shut and went around to the passenger window.
The man had his head stuck completely out the window. "What's going on back there?'
Stetson pointed the pistol in his face, "Get out."
"I will not."
He touched the man's forehead with the barrel. "Get out."
"Okay, okay." The man pushed the door open, "Stay right there, dear."
Stetson pulled the man away from the car and leaned to look in the back seat. A beautiful young woman sat there with her mouth open. "Yes, dear, you stay right there." Amanda joined him at the door, "Now you behave yourself and do what the lady says, or I'll come back and help."
"What?"
Amanda popped into the car and closed the door. Stetson swung his prisoner around, "Okay, partner, get out of those spiffy duds."
"What?"
"Now! And shake a leg."
Inside the car, Amanda looked at the lovely young woman. "I'm really sorry about this, but I need your clothes."
"I don't think so." She snapped.
"Well...." she looked towards the door, "You don't really want him to come back and help you, do you?" The young lady considered this option for a second, but when Amanda reached for the door handle, she quickly began to strip.
In Amanda's kitchen, Dottie West tapped her foot impatiently. These IFF people were really very rude. When they needed Amanda, they expected her to drop everything and rush off to work. When Dottie wished to speak to her daughter, they could think of a thousand reasons why she couldn't. Or left her hanging on hold. She often thought that while she waited, they were thinking up new excuses.
Finally a voice on the other end said, "I'm really very sorry, Ms. King is still tied up in a meeting with our Hong Kong reps. Could someone else help you?"
"A meeting?...It's ten o'clock!"
"It's ten o'clock in the morning in Hong Kong, ma'am."
"Oh. Is Mr. Steadman available?"
"I'm sorry, he's at the same meeting."
"Of course he is. Don't you think they're spending an awful lot of time at meetings, my daughter and this Mr. Steadman?"
"I beg your pardon, ma'am?"
"Never mind. Thank you."
Dottie hung the phone up with a glare. She crossed her arms, fuming in the silence of the kitchen. Slowly, she cocked her head to one side, listening. There was too much silence for a household with two boys. "Philip! Jamie! What are you doing?"