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The Gibb Says Uncle Affair
by Gale Force
Part 3.
The room was huge, and it needed to be. Gigantic computer screens ran across the front wall. On some of them were tracked the paths of the hundreds of satellites in orbit around the earth. Others featured the locations of the spaceports or tracking stations of each developed nation.
In front of the screens were row upon row of command consoles, each one occupied by a man or woman with an intent look on their faces, as they tracked, recorded and analyzed the information pouring into their earbuds.
At the very rear of the room, a beautiful woman, in her early 40s but looking much younger, stood, resplendent in red leather jacket and slacks. Her high-heeled boots gave her not-inconsiderable height an extra two inches. She stood with arms crossed, looking over the scene.
Her earbud buzzed. "Madame Sapphire," came the voice of her French secretary, "The Director's meeting is starting now."
"On my way," Sapphire said very quietly.
She returned to her office, through that of her secretary. As she passed through, Natalie handed her a cup of coffee and a brioche.
Comfortable at her desk, Sapphire took a quick bite of her brioche, then pressed the button that lit up the entire fourth wall of her office. One half of this newly revealed screen was taken up by the face of the Uber-Director, who was called Vulcan. The other half of the screen quickly resolved itself into eight squares featuring closeups of the faces of eight people, each one a satrap in the THRUSH organization, as was Sapphire herself. Each one was located in a city in a different country, in charge of their own project, and each Monday they met in this fashion to report on their progress.
As the other satraps reported on their projects, Sapphire munched discreetly on her brioche and sipped coffee. "Blah blah blah." Could Satrap Vertiliuzzi's voice be any more annoying? His delivery more dull? His project more unimportant?
An old hand at this, Sapphire had placed her laptop computer right beside the camera recording her for the meeting, so that she could look at it discreetly while her colleagues around the world chattered away, and still look as if she were paying attention to them all.
Sapphire reached down and tapped on the wireless keyboard on her lap, and brought up her email program. Time to see if anything had been accomplished by the two teams she had sent out into the world.
Ah, yes... a message had been forwarded to her from the Kuchenko detail.
Sapphire pulled it up...scrolled down to the two attached photos..saw the one of the man..froze.
She had seen that face a long time ago...on a bulletin board labeled "Most Dangerous - Kill on Sight" in her mother's office. She'd been granted a tour on Take Your Daughter to Work day...the first time she found out what her parents did for a living...
"You'll take over this one day," her mother had told her confidently, and she'd squared her little shoulders so proudly....
And six months later her parent's organization had been crushed and they'd had to flee into the night...and it had been this man...and his dark-haired colleague... who had brought it all about.
"Sapphire!"
Sapphire looked up into the narrowed eyes of Vulcan.
"Are you with us, Sapphire?" asked the Uber-Director.
She hated it when he used that tone of voice.
Never apologize, never explain. "I have several items to report," she began smoothly...
Once the conference was over, Sapphire pulled up the photograph once again.
He was old, this man..old, doubtless long retired.. Perhaps confident that he would be able to live out the natural term of his life and that no ghosts from the past would return to haunt him.
Sapphire pulled out her cellphone and dialed, stabbing each number with a dagger-like fingernail, as if it were the heart of Ilya Kuryakin.
"Marcovitch."
"Marcovitch. You sent me an email from Forbes. It contained a photo of an old man in a felt hat. What is the history behind that photo?"
"Forbes and his team followed Kuchenko to a basketball game on the campus of Old Dominion University this afternoon. At the end of the game, as Kuchenko was leaving, he stopped by this man for a second or two, and that man gave Kuchenko a card."
"Is...that...so...." Sapphire said softly.
"Yes, ma'am. Forbes said it seemed quite innocuous, quite accidental."
"Ye-es...they have watched Kuchenko's every move to this point and his phones are all tapped, his emails all monitored, is this not so?"
"Yes, ma'am. Forbes' team is very good. It is highly doubtful that Kuchenko could have arranged such a meeting with anyone, without them having some inkling about it. It was therefore completely accidental. Probably. Nevertheless, Forbes decides to follow that individual, while his men stayed with Kuchkenko. He was driven to the Hotel Oceana, just outside the Norfolk Naval Base."
"The Navy..?" murmured Sapphire.
"Yes, ma'am."
Sapphire tapped her white teeth with one long, red fingernail.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence...Kuchenko and Kuryakin meeting. Coincidences were not allowed to be used in fiction but in real life they happened all the time. And it appeared that they were happening now. Which meant that fate was taking a hand in this business..it was meant to be...she would have her revenge on Kuryakin at last.
"Marcovitch. I want this man picked up. Very carefully - he is not to be harmed. Nor is anyone else. I want him to simply... disappear..from his hotel room, and taken to a safe place, where he is to be held in comfort, but from which he cannot escape. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Tell Forbes that he is a very dangerous man, very resourceful, and they are to use all care in dealing with him. They are not to put themselves into a position where they have to subdue him with violence."
"Yes, ma'am. I will make it plain to them."
"Thank you, Marcovitch. Let me know when he has been secured."
"Ma'am."
Sapphire flipped her cellphone closed, and laid it on her desk. Then, she permitted herself a brief chuckle.