In the worlds of international espionage, diplomacy, and national security, there were a lot of necessary evils. They were things that very few people liked, but almost everyone acknowledged as a necessary part of the business.
If someone ever asked Ben to list the worst of these necessary evils, he would certainly rank the two he was experiencing at the moment, international intelligence conferences, and politicians.
"Oy Vey, eh, Ben." Ed handed him a glass of scotch, the only good thing about these things was the free booze.
It was also the thing that he truly hated about these conferences, high ranking intelligence officers from almost every nation in the western world all gathered under one roof, and all they could do was pat each other on the back and gorge themselves on free food and booze. The biggest problem was that most of the people attending these things were political appointees who only got involved with actual operations when it meant getting your name in the news, very few had any real experience in covert operations, and even fewer were veteran operatives like Edward and himself.
"Not the way that I would have put it, but my sentiments exactly." Ben took the glass and scanned the room from his position by the bar. He had to give the French credit, they certainly knew how to throw a party. And he couldn't second guess their security, a multi -million dollar yacht a few hundred miles off the western coast of the United States and a security team armed to the teeth. There were ways to assault the ship, but very few nations would have the gall to do it, and even fewer N.G.O.s had the resources.
That didn't stop him from keeping his pistol holstered in the small of his back.
"I don't even know why they sent us, it's a conference on forensic accounting and financial counterterrorism. Since when did we become bean counters?" He sipped his scotch, wishing he was on his jet or in his office, somewhere that he could do some actual work.
"Well… you are Jewish." The fact that Ed managed to say that with a straight face was a true testament to his capability as an operative.
Ben fixed him with an equally serious glare, "anti-Semitic bastard."
"Dib"
"Flash."
There was a long silence between them as the two glared at each other, until finally Ed couldn't hold out anymore and started laughing so hard that his eyes began to water, quickly followed by Ben falling into a chuckling fit.
Ed wiped away a tear and looked back at Ben "Seriously though, my people told me that they needed a few guys from the operations side of the business. With us here, they can at least pretend that something productive will come out of this."
"I didn't even bother asking, but I'd probably get the same answer from my people." Ben ordered two more drinks, it was going to be a very long night.
"Personally, I prefer a more hands on approach to financial counterterrorism." With a knowing smile, Ben handed Ed one of the drinks.
"So, a little bird told me that he ran into our girl the other day. You still haven't put her into play." The wording of the question had to be kept as vague as possible. Ben had complete trust in Ed, he couldn't say the same for anyone else in the room. Candid little chats like the one they'd had at the airfield could get people killed if the wrong person overheard.
"Yes, he ran into her while he was moving the shipment, thank you for that by the way." Ed looked at his watch, two hours until the party ended and he could get back to work.
"No problem, if the operation goes well, it'll take out a lot of uncontrolled pipelines. You still haven't answered my question."
"You still haven't asked one." It was a weak counter, and Ed knew it, but he had to at least pretend to put up a fight. He had three different bureaucrats riding his ass, any of whom would love nothing more than to build a career on dragging him in front of a senate subcommittee. The line between covert operations and treason was very much a blurred one, and the legality of his friendship with Ben was deep in the gray.
They drank in relative silence for a few minutes, only breaking it when an FSIS operative attempted to strike up a conversation on the increase of counterfeit currency turning up in his country. It took him seven whole minutes to realize that neither of them gave a shit, after which he politely excused himself with a very polite "haista vittu."
Well, Ben at least didn't give a shit, Ed had looked into it and found the pipeline funneling the funny money to be fairly benign, not good for the Finnish economy, but not a threat to anyone's national security.
It was the bureaucrats that finally did it, the man from FSIS was only the first, no one wanted to talk to Ben, people only wanted to talk to him when they needed a problem with the Middle East rooted out at the source. Ed's purview was far wider, everyone wanted the backing of the behemoth that was the American intelligence apparatus. After a prolonged assault on their position at the bar by those seeking Ed's assistance, those seeking Ed's information, and those seeking Ed's job, he turned to Ben and asked if he would mind moving to the outer deck of the yacht.
Ben kept an outward expression of neutral serenity, but inside, he was grinning. He knew how these parties went.
"I'm quite comfortable here, unless there's a reason why." The formal tone was for the group of petitioners around them. It was a dick move, but a necessary one.
Ed spoke through gritted teeth, "Yes, I need to discuss something with you and it requires a degree of privacy."
"As you wish."
Ed offered the irritating horde around them a rather insincere apology and bid them farewell. The two of them made their way through the crowd and out of the ball room. The outer deck ran around the yacht, on most boats it would be used for sunbathing. On this one it was a place for the security to keep an eye, and gunsight, on potential threats.
Ed pointed an accusatory finger at him, "You… you are a true jackass, you know that?"
"Yes, so are you going to answer my question?"
"You know, smugness looks incredibly wrong on you, but yes. Things have slowed down lately, we haven't had a reason to put her into play." The innocuousness seemed odd to Ben, so he pressed harder.
"If that's it, then why didn't you just say so in the first place?" Something as simple as that shouldn't have warranted that much resistance.
Ed let out a long sigh, "to be honest, I'm kind of embarrassed, the analysts at Langley have the politicians in Washington convinced that I'm an alarmist. A paranoid cold war relic is what they're calling me. Rushing to get assets in place for a nonexistent threat."
Ben could sympathize with his friend, but couldn't say that he'd ever been in his place. In Israel, paranoia was considered the norm when it came to national security. In a nation where the rumble of child suicide bombers is common place, the idea of being over prepared was ludicrous.
Ed pulled out a fresh pack of cigarettes and lit one up, "you know, all these kids at Langley, they've got all this data saying why the age of international terrorism is over, that between drones and satellites, the terrorist don't stand a chance. They're saying that the world's safe, people like you and I we're obsolete. And maybe they're right about the two of us being obsolete assholes past our prime, but we both know that they'll always need people like us on the ground. And I've got this feeling in my gut."
He looked Ed directly in the eyes, and asked the question they both knew the answer to.
"When's the best time to sucker punch someone?"
"When they think they've won." Ben shook his head, damn it, now he had the same splinter in the back of his mind as Ed.
Ed offered him a cigarette like he always did. For once, Ben decided to let his old vice get the better of him and took one. Ed held out a lighter, Ben accepted, bending over slightly to do so.
The movement saved his life.
A bullet whizzed over him, passing right through where his head had been less than a second ago.
Within a speed that only comes from years of experience, both men had their guns out and trained on their attacker, the sound of Ben's cane clattering to the deck mixed with the sounds of their respective pistols. Four shots, two from each gun, caught their attacker in the chest. He was dressed all in black and had held a silenced pistol in his hand.
Neither of the old spies paused to enjoy the satisfying thump his corpse made as it hit the deck. No, they were busy scanning their flanks.
"Clear nine." Ed said, turning his attention to the hall where their attacker had come through.
"Tango three," the target was double tapping one of the security personnel when Ben's bullet caught him in the left temple
"Clear three." Ben turned and looked over the rail, scanning for watercraft.
"Tango twelve," this one was better armed than his predecessors, carrying a silenced submachine gun. It didn't help him as Ed fired two bullets and hit center mass.
"Clear twelve."
"Clear six."
"The one time I follow the no coms rule," Ed grumbled. These events happened under a complete communications blackout. Ostensibly, this was to prevent outside surveillance. In reality, it was to prevent the guests from spying on each other.
"You have spare ammunition?" Ben pulled a magazine out of his jacket and offered it to Ed.
"Yes, I may not be as paranoid as you Ben, but I know what precautions to take." Ed switched out his magazine for a fully loaded one.
They advanced with practiced ease, Ben on the right, Ed on the left. Ed dropped to a knee and checked the corpses of two of their attackers while Ben swept the corridor in search of another assailant.
"These guys were catering staff." Ed recognized their faces, the last time he'd seen them they'd been dressed in waiter uniforms.
"The French outsourced this?" That was quite possibly the most idiotic security lapse that he'd ever heard.
"Yeah, it was a last minute set up, the company's out of LS, Everyone on it was vetted. The security was handled by the FIB, background checks, time, location, personnel. The French are the hosts in name only. Didn't you read the brief?" Ed stood and scanned their six
"I wasn't sent one. I thought the French were handling their own security on this." They always remember the fancy invites, but the security briefs always seem to get lost, Ben thought.
"No, the yacht's a top tier fusion center, the FIB loaned it to the French for the party." They reached a door and stacked up on it, with Ed on the door and Ben taking point. A quick nod, the door opened, and he was in.
"Clear," an empty broom closet.
"Why would the FIB loan one of their major intelligence coordination centers out for a party? You Americans keep perplexing me," fusion center… wait a minute...
"Ed, you and I both know that there's no way that they slipped enough operatives into the catering staff to clear this place out and hold it against the counterattack."
"And I'm not hearing any struggles, they haven't hit the ballroom yet," Ed said, reaching the same conclusion as Ben.
"The caterers are the advance team." It was a standard tactic, the infiltration team took out the perimeter security and cleared a route to the main objective. It was exactly what he would've done.
"What's the target read Ed, you know it better than I do. Political bigwigs are obviously on the list, but an op like this isn't a straight slash and burn job. What else are they after?"
"The only targets on this boat are the bigwigs and the… servers." The pause told Ben more than anything, they were in deep shit.
"The servers have a lot of classified intel on them, I assume." They were advancing again, with a different destination.
"Data gathered on various companies, dirty money pipelines, evidence on terrorist financiers. Incendiary as it gets, it's all from the various agencies here tonight. And it's all got a solo designation." So if we lose it here, we just lose it. Solo designation meant that it could only be kept on one server at a time, it was reserved for the kind of intel that would get entire agencies disbanded if it went public. Ed had mixed feelings about it.
"Bottom deck, near the engine room." They passed a couple of corpses along the way, security and staff mostly, it appeared that none of the others had managed to take out any of the attackers, didn't even seem like the alarm had been sounded yet. These guys were either pros, or they had damn good intel.
"We've got two options. We can alert the people in the ball room and minimize casualties, but I guarantee that the advance team already has people moving on the servers. Or we can secure the servers and run the risk of a mass casualty event. This is your turf Ed, it's your call." Ben peeked around a corner, though he was starting to get a good idea of how the infiltrators were taking the ship.
"Clear," they'd most likely divided their forces, he was assuming a ten man team. It was the most likely number and the best for the op. Four men on each side of the ship to eliminate perimeter security teams and clear an avenue of approach for the main force, two men to secure the server room.
"We-" The sound of explosions coming from the ballroom made the decision for them.
The main force had arrived.
"Servers" Ed said and they started sprinting down the corridor.
"Tango one" a man in body armor popped out from behind a corner ahead of them. Ed three quick shots, suppressing the man and allowing Ben to line up a head shot.
"Tango eleven" a second armored man fired blindly around the corner opposite to the first attacker. Once again, Ed laid down suppressing fire, Ben launched himself into a roll and fired a round into the man's knee, immediately following it up with a bullet to the man's head. He popped up into a standing position and scanned the hallway for more attackers.
"Clear."
"Strip these guys for their gear, security's gotta be dead by now if they're hitting the ballroom, no risk of friendly fire." Ben nodded, Ed was right, it was a sad reality, but still reality.
"These guys are better equipped, but they certainly didn't seem much better trained than the guys on the outer deck." That was something else, the infiltrators seemed very skilled in quiet killing, but could barely last a few minutes in a straight up fire fight. This was turning into something very interesting. The vests were a bit loose, but some quick manipulation of the straps fixed that. The grenades on their belts explained the explosions they'd heard earlier.
They managed to make their way to the bottom deck without running into any more attackers. They didn't seem to be interested in taking the boat, much less a hostage situation. They were playing it smart; get in, get the objective, kill as many people as possible, get the hell out.
They didn't find any resistance until they were almost to the server room.
Two men had set up some barricades to use as cover, a much smarter move than those of their colleagues. Ed made a series of hand signs and Ben nodded he pulled one of the grenades he'd taken from the two men they'd killed and lobbed it down the hall at the enemy, leaving them with two options, die by explosion or run away, leaving cover. They chose the latter and were shot for their trouble.
The pair stepped over the corpses toward the server room, then-
BOOM!
Their vision went white and a ringing filled their ears. They leapt back behind cover, but as Ben's vision began to clear, he saw a figure in black sprinting down the hall, immediately, he took off after the figure.
They sprinted down the corridors, the figure's kept making turn after turn, carefully avoiding straightaways, preventing any of his shots from making their mark. He was gaining on the figure, only a few steps behind him.
Closer…
Closers…
Got him! Ben snatched at the man's black shirt, only to be tackled from behind.
"Ha! Haki teidat te terroristinpaska!" Ben forced his weight up, rolling himself to the top of the hold and bashing his attacker in the face. Scarcely noticing that it was the FSIS officer who'd talked to him earlier. He returned to his chase. It was the vest, it had to be the vest, fuck.
He rushed down the hall that his prey had taken and finding that it led to the outer deck of the ship. He caught sight of the figure in black once more, sprinting toward the back of the ship. The cool sea air rushed against his face as he dashed across the deck.
He rounded the corner to find the figure with his hands up, being held at gunpoint by Ed.
"How'd you know he'd come here?" Ben asked as he leveled his gun on the masked figure, who he was now sure was a man.
"There's only one place to attach a small boat to this ship, I took a gamble. Now secure him, will you?
"Te sekkoitettu!" It was the FSIS man again, the distraction lasted less than a second, but that second was more than enough for the masked man, he took a flying leap over the rail, assuming a jackknife dive as he fell. Ed and Ben looked over the rail, only to find that the man had disappeared beneath the waves.
Ben shut the irate FSIS operative up with a hard palm strike to the jaw, leaving the man unconscious, for if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to resist the urge to shoot the man, Ben turned to Ed.
"So…" he said in a deadpan tone.
"What was that you said about things being slow?"
So guys what do you think? I like the first part of this chapter, but I feel like it went downhill once the action started. I love these two characters, but Ben and Ed are way harder to write than I first thought. I'm trying to give them a hardened cold warrior feel, show that these men have seen the fall of the nations, a few of which they arranged. But I also want to show that these guys have known each other for decades and have been through nine different kinds of hell together.
That's a hard balance to find.
R&R people, new chapter next week.