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In their hotel suite, the Colonel’s New York team mourned the loss of nineteen million dollars. But they mourned in comfort. Two men slumped on the couch in the living room, two in easy chairs, and two on the floor leaning against the coffee table. The TV muttered quietly in the background. The Colonel paced slowly in front of it, an overworked border collie bewildered about why someone would tie tin cans to his tail.
On the couch, Weasel stared at the bottle of beer in his hand. The edge of his hand had an almost forgotten scar: a half moon made by human teeth. An old relic of clearing a building room by room, life by life. “I don’t so much mind sucking hind tit to the Israelis,” he said. “Those guys have their shit together in one nice neat little pile. But some Arab team beat us there, too. So did a couple of other teams.” He turned toward the Colonel. “You said one was paid by the Chinese?”
“As near as I can tell, yes,” said the Colonel. “Assuming Sergeant Johnson was telling the truth, which I’d bet my life on. And assuming the people who hired him told him the truth, which I wouldn’t bet a nickel on. I don’t even know who hired us. The truth is a crapshoot.
“But don’t fret about us getting there late. It was our employer who hired us late. We couldn’t have gotten there sooner.”
The Colonel twirled his own bottle between thumb and forefinger of his right hand, staring at the bottle without seeing it. That hand, too, had an old, forgotten scar. The palm was branded by the barrel of a .50 calibre machine gun. Those weapons heat up after a few minutes of high rate firing, so they come with a spare barrel. Sometimes bad guys arrive rudely at dawn and are annoyingly persistent, so a hot barrel must be swapped for a cool barrel if you want to live to eat breakfast. And if it’s an old weapon without the barrel handle, and an asbestos glove isn’t handy, that’s just one of those things. “Damn good thing the Israelis beat us there,” said the Colonel. “The Saudis had orders to kill Professor Anderson. Everyone else wanted her alive and healthy. But not the Saudis.” He paused. “I don’t get that. Why is her life valuable to everyone else, but her death is more valuable to the Saudis?” He paused again.
“And add up the money. Someone was willing to pay us twenty million. I hear the Chinese and the Saudis were both willing to pay thirty million. The other teams were probably offered something similar in the twenty to thirty million range. That’s getting close to two hundred million bucks chasing after these four people. Just think about that a moment. A two hundred million dollar bounty on four people. I don’t think anything like that has ever happened in all of history. I don’t get that either.”
He continued thinking out loud as he paced. “The people paying the most money, the Saudis, got their team there first. And the people spying on the people with the most money, got there second. There’s money here. Money so big we’ll never know. And there’s national assets here, too. The Israeli team isn’t private military. They’re special forces, what they call Sayeret Matkal, assigned to Mossad. And I’ll bet the Saudi team is GIP, their version of the CIA. This is as big as it gets. But I can’t figure out what it is or why.”
In the background, the talking head on the TV announced a volatile day on Wall Street. Ho hum.
“So that nurse was Mossad?” said Pansy. “Damn, she was good. Did you see what she did to the Saudi she was arguing with? I’m not even sure I saw it, it happened so fast. He wound up a fist to slug her. So she sidestepped and did something with her left hand. It was so fast I couldn’t see it clearly, but she dug sideways under his groin armor. Then she was walking away before he collapsed. Dunno what she did, but it meant something deeply personal to him. Damn, I hope she’s on our side.”
The Colonel said, “I didn’t see it. But I heard a high pitched squeak from him before he went down. That explains it. From what I heard of their conversation beforehand, he earned it. He was disrespectful, and that lady’s not to be trifled with. Did you see how she used makeup around her eyes to make her look like a lioness? Caught me by surprise when I first saw her. Savage looking. I heard one of her teammates address her as lieutenant. She’s probably in charge of that team. Smart and gutsy lady.”
“That Saudi was dressed as a cable installer. He may have a tough time installing it in the future,” said Pansy. They all laughed. Pansy wore the remains of his business suit, his coat and tie draped over the back of his chair. He watched the TV while he field-stripped his compact machine gun, by touch alone, to keep his hands busy. Some people knit.
“I guess that’s what you’d call negative customer feedback,” rumbled Kong. “He ain’t getting no five stars. He’ll be lucky to crawl away with two balls.” More chuckles.
They drank beer and watched the news for a few minutes in silence.
The Colonel waved in the direction of the TV, “I don’t get it. There’s nothing on the news to explain it. No wars. Nothing unusual in the Middle East. Think about this, guys. The most powerful governments in the world all want to capture or kill four people: a math professor, a physics professor, a computer programmer, and a micro engineer. As far as I know, there’s no connection between these people. They live in different parts of the country. And these governments all want it done today. Tomorrow is too late. Why?”
They were all quiet for a moment. Then, “Beats the shit out of me,” said Weasel. “But the good news is we got there on time per contract, so we can keep the deposit they put in escrow.” He was drinking soda, not beer, because he still had more driving to do later, after they packed up their equipment.
The Colonel continued musing at his beer as he paced, “Everything about this job was urgent. Every strike team was told to move at top speed. Something important is happening, and it’s happening fast. What is it? The big money players all seem to know what it is. But I sure don’t.
“And you know something else? I’m beginning to wonder if we were low-balled for a mere twenty million. Maybe they’re worth fifty million. Maybe a hundred million. I just don’t know.”
He thought a bit. “But I sure would like to find out.”
The TV announcer said that trading in oil stocks and transportation stocks had been extremely active for the day, and that both were down by almost three percent. Double ho hum.
The Colonel almost shouted, “Why the hell are a middle-aged math teacher, a blind physics teacher, and a couple of others, so fucking important? What’s so urgent to big money about teaching math at a women’s college in Manhattan?”
He thought to himself, For the first time in my life, I feel like a complete pawn. I am a pawn. He clenched his jaw. I don’t like being a pawn. No doubt about it, I’m going to need a lot more beer.
“Hey! She’s on TV!” said Pansy, pointing.
“What? Turn it up!”
The announcer said, “ ... is missing and may have been kidnapped. She was last seen in Manhattan today around noon. If you have any information on her whereabouts, call the police or FBI immediately. There’s a ten-million-dollar reward for anyone who can help authorities return her safely. That can’t be right.” He looked away from the camera. “Did you check this out? ... Ten million? ... Yes it is.” He looked back at the camera. “Ten million dollars it is, but only if she’s returned safely.”
“Noon?” said Weasel. “We got there before noon. So she was seen after we got there? After all the snatch and grab teams got there? The timing doesn’t make sense. But ten million fucking dollars! At least the US doesn’t want her dead, not if they’re offering that much scrip. Dunno what side we’re on, but at least we’re not up against the US.”
“I wouldn’t bet my life on that,” muttered the Colonel. “The US might be trying to outbid whoever’s got her. Maybe get them to switch sides.” Then he did a double take looking at the TV. He stepped right up to the TV to get a closer look. He leaned over, not two feet away from it, staring.
“What gives, Colonel?” said Pansy. “Your mouth is wide open. You gonna eat the whole TV?”
The Colonel closed his mouth, straightened up, and spoke while still staring at Professor Anderson’s high definition picture. “All our photos of her were black and white. She has blue eyes ... son of a goat-fucking bitch ... sky-blue eyes ... ”
He was quiet a long moment, then turned to face his men, who were all looking at him like he had sprouted donkey ears. “Don’t bother packing,” he said. “We’re staying. And we need to call in the other teams as fast as possible. Charter private jets again if we have to. And we’re going to need a bunch of quadcopter drones equipped for surveillance. We need to go shopping fast. And money doesn’t matter right now.
“I don’t think anyone else grabbed her. And I think I know how to find her.” He looked at his men with a grim grin. “Your mouths are wide open. You gonna eat those whole beer bottles? Or you wanna help me find a hundred million dollars?”