J.J. and Samantha slid into a booth and ordered a couple of beers from the waitress.
“That was the most boring day ever,” J.J. rubbed his eyes. “Did I mention I hate surveillance?”
“Maybe, once or ten thousand times. We did get some good info on Maria’s movements and some registration numbers from courier deliveries. I also got a good photo of that guy she met with.”
“Whatever, but I’m not doing another day of it … I’ve got a plan.”
“Uh-oh!” she took the beer from the waitress, sipped it and sat back with a sigh. “OK, give it to me.”
“Today, a number of deliveries were made by Rightway Express Couriers. What if we were to make a few deliveries of our own?”
“What did you have in mind?” Samantha asked.
“Let’s say one of the delivery drivers is removed from the equation and I step in, check out the delivery and make the drop. We get a closer view of the premises and see what’s going in and what’s going out …”
“Could work.”
“Using a bit of chloroform – and by the time the driver is back on his feet, we’re out of there.”
“That worries me,” Samantha said. “How will it play out?”
“OK, I’m thinking we’ll set ourselves up about fifteen miles out of Eureka. I’m gambling on the courier driver stopping to help you out when you break down on the side of the road. They’ll never see me when I come up from behind with a chloroform rag,” he lowered his voice. “We’ll put the driver in the van, check out what’s being delivered, make the delivery and see how many people are on site. We’ll be long gone by the time the driver wakes up, unharmed.”
“What if he can identify us?” Samantha said.
“He’ll get a brief glimpse of you with a hat and glasses on and he won’t see me coming up from behind, we’ll be fine.”
“What if they don’t have a delivery for Broad Arrow and we pull them over?”
“Come on, what else is out there? The only courier deliveries that came past today all stopped at Broad Arrow, then turned and headed back north to the junction.”
“My instincts tell me we should run it by Mitch,” Samantha suggested.
“Forget the whole idea, we’ll do surveillance. You know he’ll say no, that it’s too risky.”
Samantha looked at J.J. and frowned. “We should think it through a little more, walk me through it again.”
“You sound like Mitch now. Surely every now and then he wants his agents to use their initiative? I mean, you’ve been with him a few years now; doesn’t he encourage that or are we all drones?”
Samantha thought about it. “Can’t remember him being big on surprises; he likes to know what’s going on.”
“Let’s be impromptu, take advantage of the opportunity,” J.J. continued. “We’ll tell him it was something that came to us on the spur of the moment. He’ll be pleased when we get the results.”
Samantha squirmed. “For your sake, I hope you get to tell him the results on his message bank first, so he can warm to how you got them before we get home.”
Samantha woke as the sun came through her hotel window.
I don’t think we should be doing J.J.’s plan, she thought. Should I tell Mitch? If I do, then I lose J.J.’s trust … if I don’t and it goes wrong, I’ll lose Mitch’s confidence. A no-win situation.
She looked over at the sound of J.J. stirring in the bed next to her.
“Coffee?” he mumbled.
She rolled her eyes and rising, moved to the kitchenette to put the jug on.
“It’s after seven, we need to get moving.”
J.J. groaned and threw the covers off. He dragged his feet into the bathroom.
Samantha froze as her phone rang. She looked at the number.
“Mitch!”
Samantha parked their hire car on the side of the road about fifteen miles out of Broad Arrow.
“OK, it’s now nine; that’s twelve noon in Mitch’s time zone. I’ve already bullshitted earlier that we’re going to do surveillance all day, so you’d better pull this off J.J. – I don’t feel right lying to him.”
“Yeah, yeah, think of it as surveillance, but from within the truck. Besides, he won’t call again now until this afternoon. It’ll all be over by then. Pop the bonnet but don’t raise it until you see a courier van coming, otherwise every car will stop to help,” J.J. said. He got out of the car and Samantha watched as he walked around the car and hid amongst the scrub. She sat in the front seat, her eyes glued to the mirror. She yawned as the first hour passed.
Two cars in one hour. Ho-hum.
“Heads up,” she heard J.J. call. Her eyes went to the rearview mirror. A courier van was approaching. Samantha leapt out of the car and began to lift the bonnet. She heard the van slowing down, the ignition being cut, and a door opening as she continued to gaze at the engine.
“Are you alright?” a male voice called.
Samantha buried her face under the bonnet.
“It started to splutter while I was driving, now it won’t start at all.”
She heard a struggle.
“Clear,” J.J. panted.
Samantha turned to find J.J. supporting the driver, a middle-aged man in blue overalls. She raced to the van and opened the rear doors. J.J. dragged the driver to the back. Jumping in first, she helped pulled the driver in.
“I feel terrible; he was being a good Samaritan.”
“He’ll be up again in no time doing more good deeds,” J.J. assured her.
“How long have we got?” Samantha asked.
“He’ll be out for about two hours. Thank God he’s a small guy,” J.J. grunted. “Let’s get to it so we can get the vehicles out of here in case other drivers stop to see what’s going on.”
Samantha looked down the long, flat road ahead and behind. Nothing in sight, yet. They began to work their way through the dozens of deliveries stacked in the van.
“There are two cylinders here, both addressed to the site,” she pulled the lid off them. J.J. squatted beside her. He looked in at the liquid contents and sniffed.
“Gasoline. Why would they need all this gas delivered to them?” he said before discovering a tag on the side of the cylinder. “Avgas.”
“What’s Avgas?” Samantha asked.
“Don’t know, remind me to check that out.”
“Here’s another delivery for them.” Samantha found a small sealed box. J.J. reached over and cut the tape with a Stanley knife.
“It’s full of small bottles of cyanide! Why would they want a fuel substance and cyanide?” She resealed the box as best she could with its own tape.
“The lab can tell us what it means.”
Samantha heard the sound of an engine and a car came into view.
“Shit, I don’t like this one bit,” J.J. said in a lowered voice.
“I think we’re stuffed,” Samantha agreed.
Samantha stood at the back of the car as J.J. closed the van doors. He did up the zip on the blue courier overalls, turned and began to wipe his hands on a towel.
“Top up the air when you get to town,” he spoke in clear earshot of the driver who pulled over to check if everything was OK.
“Thank you. I’m sorry to trouble you,” Samantha smiled.
“No trouble at all.” J.J. looked over at the driver. “Thanks for stopping, buddy. I think we’re right. The lady had a flat; she’s got enough air in the spare to get her into town.”
The driver waved and continued. Samantha watched him drive off and turned back to J.J. “Let’s do it.”
“OK, head back to the hotel. I’ll make this drop now. Should take me about an hour for the round trip. I’ll call you on the way back to pick me up here so we can bolt as soon as the driver begins to stir.”
Samantha nodded. “What if Mitch calls back?”
“Tell him the surveillance is under control.”
“Right. Good luck and be careful, J.J. Hopefully they’ll have something they want you to bring back.”
Samantha watched J.J. drive the truck towards Broad Arrow.
I hope Mitch is caught up in meetings and doesn’t call, she thought, because he is going to freak out about this one.
J.J. eyes roamed around the site, looking for details and a glimpse of Maria. Nothing out-of-the-ordinary.
He pulled out three items from the back of the van; the two heavy cylinders on a trolley and a small box of cyanide bottles. He glanced towards the front of the load; the driver remained concealed.
“Just need you to sign for these, buddy,” he said, handing the worksheet to the security guard. He took the clipboard back, followed the guard to reception and was asked to wait for a return package. He looked around again. Two vehicles on site and one person. He glimpsed through the narrow glass panel at reception.
A few maps on the wall in the back room. Otherwise, no signs of any kind of industry.
J.J. looked at his watch. Hurry up for God’s sake, I’ve got to get moving.
Samantha’s phone rang. She answered it, recognizing J.J.’s number.
“Is everything OK?”
“Fine. They’ve asked me to wait; they’ve got something to go back. I’ll call you when I’m on the road.”
“You can’t wait too long … the driver!”
“I know,” he whispered. “If they don’t hurry up, I’ll leave without it.”
“Oh, no!”
“What?” J.J. asked.
“I’ve got an incoming call, hang on,” Samantha read the screen and then put it back against her ear. “It’s Mitch!”
“Let it go to voice mail. You can honestly say you were on the phone,” J.J. advised.
“Who to? You?”
“Yeah, good point … think up something while you’re waiting.”
“OK. Hurry up, J.J.”
She hung up.
“We should never have done this!” She said, between gritted teeth. “It’s a stupid plan.”
Mitch paced his office as he dialed Samantha’s number. He calculated it was midday in Eureka. He was diverted to voice mail and left a message. He tried J.J.’s phone and got voice mail.
“I hate voice mail. Where are you two?” he said talking to himself.
He could see John waiting impatiently for him at the lift.
“Coming,” he mumbled, grabbing a file and exiting his office. He joined John in the lift.
“More meetings, here goes two hours of my life that I’ll never get back. Is there anyway …”
“No,” John cut him off. “You got out of the last two. If I don’t produce you today, they’ll write you off as my imagination and you’ll lose your budget.”
Mitch grinned. “John and his imaginary friend. There is a movie in that – might have already been done with a rabbit though.”
John laughed. “Yes, I’ll start calling you Harvey,” referring to one of his favorite James Stewart films.
“Least you’ve got a friend.”
“Yeah, thanks Mitch,” John shook his head.
Mitch stopped at the traffic lights on his way to meet Charlotte and Sally for drinks.
It’s six p.m., three in Eureka, he thought.
He tried to call Samantha and J.J. again and got their voice mails. Damn, where are you guys? He felt the first stirring of panic as he calculated backwards. I last spoke to them at seven their time this morning; it’s now after three. What’s going on?
He placed a call to Ellen and got voice mail.
“Damned voice messaging,” he said aloud. His mind ran through scenarios. I better pull out of drinks, I won’t be able to concentrate … no, chill out. Sam and J.J. are professionals. I’ll give them another hour, then I’ll go on alert.
He pulled into the wine bar’s parking lot and locked the car. Entering, he spotted Sally and made his way over to her.
“Hi Sal, looking good,” he complimented her.
“Good God, Mitch, what happened to you?”
“Why? Oh, the bruising,” he remembered and self-consciously reached for his face. “Nothing, just a training exercise. Where’s princess?”
“She’s up at the bar getting a wine list. Mitch, that looks painful,” Sally studied him.
“I’d say you should see the other guy – but that line’s been overdone,” he removed his black wool coat and placed it on the back of the chair, glancing around.
“Another Charlie discovery?”
“Yep. She’s out to discover every new place in town. Are you off nightshift?”
“Only for tonight. Boss’s orders, early to bed, etc.” He sat back. “Actually, it was good to be on nightshift for a while; gave Charlie the house to herself to have Lachlan over.”
“Yeah, well, that won’t happen again,” Sally informed him.
“Why?”
“You asked that quickly.”
“Did I?”
“I’m just teasing you. Anyway, they’re off again. They had another one of their infamous arguments – and that was it.”
“Hmm! Heard that before.” He poured a glass of water from the carafe on the table.
“No, he’s taken a contract interstate. A six-month contract. I’m surprised she hasn’t told you.”
“Why would she?”
Sally shrugged. “Because she normally talks about everything—occupational hazard—and you are her roommate and friend. She’s pretty upset about it.”
“Maybe that’s why she hasn’t spoken about it. How upset?” Mitch asked with a glance to his phone.
“Morose, moody, unhappy, wallowing …” Sally stopped talking. “What’s wrong with you tonight? You’re so jumpy.”
“Don’t you start, Sally. It’s bad enough Charlie analyzes my every move.”
Mitch’s phone rang and he grabbed for it.
“Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he rose. “Ellie, have you heard from them?” He went outside the café.
Finishing the call, he turned and saw Charlotte and Sally watching him. He headed inside, sitting down next to Charlotte.
“You two are quiet. Run out of conversation? Who would have thought?” He took the wine Charlotte offered him.
“No, smarty,” Sally grinned. “We were checking you out and we’ve decided you’re not bad looking – when you’re not black and blue.”
Mitch laughed.
“Really? So did you both come to that conclusion?”
“Maybe,” Charlotte piped in, “But I didn’t really want to tell you because your head is big enough without us boosting your ego.”
Mitch looked at Charlotte, a grin on his face.
“A big head?”
“Absolutely!” Charlotte exclaimed. “I’ve got to live with you, so I don’t want your head getting any bigger. We both won’t fit in the kitchen at the same time.”
“Ah, a back-handed compliment. Be still, my beating heart. Anyway, like I’m the one with the big head!”
“Whoa, Mitch! You’re on dangerous ground now,” Sally warned.
The waiter dropped some menus on the table as Mitch’s phone rang again.
“Thank Christ,” he said, recognizing Samantha’s number. “Sam!” Mitch listened to her.
“What!” he exclaimed. “You’ve got to be kidding me?” He rose and headed outside again.
“He was supposed to meet me over two hours ago. And I can’t reach him,” Samantha said.
“Two hours ago, why didn’t you call me sooner?” Mitch groaned. “From the top, Sam, what happened?”
Mitch listened, breaking in occasionally.
“No way. What sort of plan is that? What were you both thinking? Why didn’t you run it by me?” Mitch paced up and down outside the café. He rubbed his temple.
Stay in control, he told himself. Don’t do anything you will regret. I just want to punch someone out … namely, Jack Jameson.
Samantha finished.
“Mitch, are you there?”
“I’m here. I’m deciding what to do.”
“I shouldn’t have let him do it,” Samantha’s voice was choked with tears.
“He’s an experienced operative, he should have known better.”
“I had a gut feeling.”
“He’s senior to you. It’s OK, Sam, don’t beat yourself up about it, we’ll work it out,” Mitch cut her off. “You’re going to stay put. Don’t do a thing until I get there, understand?”
“Yes.”
“I mean stay put, Sam. I need you there when I arrive. Clear?”
“Yes, Mitch,” she said. “You’re coming over?”
“Tonight, as soon as I can get a flight organized. I’ll get back to you with the arrival time. Call me if you hear anything. Anything!” He hung up and raced back inside.
“Sorry ladies, got to go.” He grabbed his wallet, slipped some notes under his wine glass while Charlotte and Sally protested and grabbed his coat. “Charlie, I’ll be away for a few days.”
“But where are you going? Don’t you need to pack?” Charlotte asked.
Mitch was already halfway to the door and didn’t respond. He headed straight to the office, calling John on the way.
“What’s Broad Arrow like? Can we send in reinforcements without it being noticed?” John asked as Mitch paced his office.
“Unlikely. An extra person will register and trust me, they’ll be watching now. I’ve got to extract J.J. without making waves if we can. I need to get over there now, tonight. I’ll take Ellie. Can you replace her on surveillance at the university?”
“Of course.”
“That will be three of us on the ground. It should be manageable.”
John didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” Mitch realized John wasn’t getting the wheels in motion. He stopped pacing.
“Are you up to it?” John asked.
“Of course I’m up to it. What do you mean?”
“The lack of sleep, the fight with Nick …”
“John, I’m up to it!”
“And, I heard you had a bit of an argument with Henri.”
“Henri? It was nothing.”
“Must have been something. He’s worried about you.” John picked up the phone and instructed a staff member to book Mitch and Ellen on the next flight to Elko. He hung up.
“I had a gut reaction about this,” Mitch resumed pacing.
“About what?”
“About J.J. joining the team. I know he was keen for the change, but he was senior to all of us and I suspected he felt he should have been team leader.”
“He’s senior, but his skills aren’t in leading a team. It’s one thing to be able to start any engine and crack any lock, but you’ve also got to be a lateral thinker. When did you have this gut reaction?”
“Right from the start. He must have been itching for some independence.”
The phone rang and John answered it, taking down some details. He hung up.
“No flights at this hour to Elko.”
“Can we get a charter?”
“No, out of the question. You’re on the last flight available to Las Vegas, leaving in twenty-five minutes from Dulles International.”
Mitch listened in as John made a series of calls confirming the flight, taxi transfer to the airport, weaponry and an overnight bag to be produced for Mitch. Ellen was being picked up. John went to his computer and within minutes, received an email with Mitch and Ellen’s details. He printed it out. He read from it, “You will land in Las Vegas at ten-thirty tonight. There are no flights to Elko until seven the next morning. You’ll get in at eight …”
“We’ll drive from Vegas.”
“It’s about four hundred miles!”
“I know, but every hour counts. We should be able to do it in …,” Mitch did the calculations, “less than six hours. If we land at ten-thirty, we should arrive at Broad Arrow around four in the morning. That gives us nearly two-and-a-half hours before sunrise.”
“OK, I’ll hire you a car. Share the driving.”
Mitch headed for the door. “Can you email the audio transcripts through from the lab if you get any?”
“Will do,” John agreed.
Mitch continued. “Can you put a trace on Johan? Leave Nick sitting tight until I get back. I hope Johan doesn’t want to pull out earlier with Nick. I want to be back and right on him the whole way. I don’t trust him yet.” He shook his head and looked up at John. “If I lose Johan because of J.J …”
“Go,” John ordered. “I want to hear from you regularly.”
Mitch sat in the taxi on the way to the airport and called Samantha.
“We’re on our way,” he confirmed. “We’ll call you when we get close to Eureka. Should be around three-thirty in the morning, all going well, and we’ll go onto Broad Arrow from there, arriving around four. Be ready to move out. And turn your tracker on,” he referred to the tracking device in their wristwatches.
“I don’t suppose …?”
“No,” Mitch finished. “J.J. hasn’t turned his on. But don’t panic, he might not have thought of it.” Or is capable of it.
“How are we going to access the site?” Samantha asked.
“I’ll work that out on the flight. John’s sending me an up-to-date plan of the area. He’s getting the layout from the leasing agents.”
“Right.”
“Are you OK?” Mitch asked.
“No. What if he’s … Mitch, he could be dead and …”
Mitch cut her off.
“Hang in there, Sam. It’ll be fine. Don’t do anything rash; just wait for us, OK?”
“OK, hurry, Mitch.”
“We’ll see you soon.” Mitch hung up.
The whole thing is slipping through my fingers. What a stuff-up! J.J.’s supposed to be one of our best senior agents, but this maverick act could compromise the whole mission. Why didn’t he just stick to surveillance?
The taxi pulled over at the terminal. Mitch leapt out, ran to check in and found Ellen waiting.
“John’s booked us into business class. Probably thought you needed it,” she looked at Mitch’s bruised face.
“There goes the budget. Hope it comes out of his and not mine.” They boarded immediately and stowed their agency-issued black overnight bags in the locker above their seats.
Mitch sat down beside Ellen. He sighed. “Now for the plan.”
“You missed him,” John invited Henri Spalter to take a seat in his office.
Henri lowered himself into a chair.
“It’s after eight, John. Catching up on the day?”
John opened his cabinet and poured them both a scotch.
“Just had to get Mitch and Ellie on a flight to Nevada before heading home.”
“Ah, I’ve well and truly missed him then.” Henri took the glass, clinked it against John’s and sipped. “We had a bit of a fall out,” Henri sighed.
John looked at the amber liquid and swirled it around the glass. “Mm, there is something going on with him at the moment; something’s stirred him up. Do you know what it’s about?”
“Skeletons in the closet maybe. He was asking me about his father, out of the blue. It must be twenty years since he’s seen him.”
John frowned. “Maybe now he feels the need for an explanation. I hope he’s not feeling vengeful.”
“No, it’s not in his nature.”
John nodded in agreement. “So, he didn’t tell you why the sudden resurgence in interest?”
“No, I was allowed to answer questions, not to ask them.”
“Ah,” John said knowingly. “He’s not sleeping; nightshift. Might be contributing to his odd behavior. It can throw you around a bit, give you a short temper.”
“And he’s had an encounter from the past I hear – Nicholas Everett.”
“Yes, you know him?”
“I remember Nicholas well. He and Mitch were best friends; inseparable the pair of them.”
“Hmm, well they’ve just about knocked each other’s lights out this time.”
“Good grief! The fight was with Nicholas?”
“Yes,” John confirmed.
“Well, no wonder he’s shook up. One of the people he most trusts or used to at least.” Henri finished the scotch. “Well, best get home; you too, I imagine. Thanks for the drink. Tell our boy when you speak to him that I dropped by.”
“Will do,” John smiled. “Goodnight.”
John swiveled on his chair, and began to log off his computer. As it went through the back up process, he sat back and thought about Mitchell Parker: strong minded, impressive recall of detail, a voracious need for stimulation and the ability to change the mindset of a team; there is no doubt under pressure he’s the best … but he pushes himself to breaking point and never asks for help.
“Who do you talk to, Mitch?” John said to himself, rising to leave. “Got to work on that.”
The computer screen went to black. John grabbed his jacket and satchel and pulled the door closed behind him.