“I was part of the Cambridge team, actually, but we did all right.”
Kate had the advantage in the conversation, since she had had varying versions of it with almost everyone she had ever known for more than a month or two. Some ended well, like the dialogue with her mentor at the CIA, Herbert Foley, who had been instrumental in her getting her current position. Others, like the colossal throw down with her then husband, Conrad, hadn’t ended nearly as well. But through it all, she had let others come to their own conclusions and then moved forward accordingly. Just as she had with Judy.
“While I understand where you’re coming from, my main concern is that I certainly don’t wish to be cut off from the directors or our operatives in the field,” she said.
“Naturally, however, like every other organizational structure, there is a chain of command. Operatives report to their directors, who would then report to HQ, such as it is.
There the decision would be made to either handle a situation or bring in more oversight. I can certainly prepare action briefs, or whatever you would like to call them for your review, and of course, if you request a status briefing on a particular mission or region, then we’ll crunch the data and present you with whatever is needed, within reason,” Judy said.
“Don’t worry, Judy, the one thing I’m not is a power-mad office dictator, although sometimes it can be tempting.” Kate laughed.
“Then, of course, your decisions would flow down the chain, as well, to be disseminated as necessary,” Judy said.
Kate tried to minimize her triumphant smile. It wasn’t that she was gloating; everything Judy had said made sense.
In a way, she wished they had had this conversation about eight months ago, since all of this could have been dealt with and over a long time ago. “I think we have an excellent way to move forward, and I’m looking forward to it. And I think I’ll also take you up on those summary briefs you mentioned. That sounds like a perfect way to start each morning.”
“Excellent.” Judy’s smile was genuine.
“There is one catch, however.”
“And that is?”
“I can’t promise I’ll adapt to this change right away. I’m more of a take-charge-and-charge-ahead kind of person,” Kate said.
“Of course, and indeed, there are times when the circumstances may warrant that. I would just hope that you would request assistance at the earliest opportunity.”
“I’ll do my best. So, speaking of intel flowing up the chain, how are things proceeding with Jonas’s cover?”
“What is the term the kids are using today? Ah, yes, he’ll be the dopest arms dealer in Florida.” Kate almost choked on her tea when she heard the slang come out of Judy’s flawless mouth. “The allocation-request program has been extremely useful in this regard.”
When Room 59 had been established, one of the tenets that had been struck was that its operatives could use anything from another agency, no questions asked, as long as the resource wasn’t slated for the agency’s own use at the same time.
“The DEA has a lovely luxury yacht that will serve our purposes very nicely,” Judy said.
“I’m sure Jonas will enjoy that, and our other operatives can get a bit of sun as the deck crew. You’ll make sure they’re all familiarized—” Kate trailed off when she saw Judy’s eyebrow rise. “Okay, okay, hey, it’s what I do.”
“I’ve already organized a list of operatives with the necessary experience and background to handle the ship. From the captain to the cabin boy, they will all be our people.”
“And the ordnance?”
“Oh, we’ve got something that is sure to pique the interest of any PMC that’s worth their guns. On loan from Defense, but they didn’t seem particularly thrilled about it, so we do have to get everything back to them intact,” Judy reported.
“Jonas will make sure it all goes out and comes back in one piece,” Kate said. Both women checked their watches.
“He should be touching down about now, with Marcus greeting him at the airport. Say, Judy, did you ever get nervous when you were in the field?”
The British woman smiled. “Every time. But you learn to deal with it. I’ve got to run. I have a meeting with Denny on Jonas’s cover, and we’re putting together the regional comm cell to handle traffic. I’ll let you know when that’s set up, as well as let you know if anything else comes up in the meantime.”
“Great. And thanks for coming to see me. I appreciate it,” Kate said.
“You’re welcome.” Judy’s visage winked out, and Kate leaned back in her chair, sighing with relief. Much better than I had expected.
A shadow at the door made her look up. Mindy stood there, her hand over the cordless phone. “Remember that message I gave you? About you-know-who?” Kate’s blank look spurred the college student on. “Conrad—the paperwork—you were supposed to call him back.”
Kate let her head thump back against the top of the chair.
She pointed at the phone. “Of course. Let me have that so he can let me have it in general.” If it isn’t one thing, it’s another, she thought as she raised the phone to her ear.
“Conrad?… I wish I could say the same….”
Jonas leaned back in his business-class seat and drained the last swallow of complimentary champagne, which he had specifically requested be brought to him before they came in on their final approach. A trim, neatly dressed flight attendant approached, and he handed the empty glass to her.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Heinemann?” she inquired, using his cover name for this part of the mission.
“Nein, danke.” He settled back in his seat and looked out the window, watching the endless, blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean give way to the bustling metropolis of Miami. Ninety miles south, not visible, but its presence felt all the same, was Cuba. An impossible distance for some, Jonas thought, and a lifetime away for others.
THE SLENDER WOMAN LED them through the thick jungle to an abandoned sugar mill that must have been a hundred years old. Its ramshackle buildings were overgrown with jungle foliage, vines and colorful flowers slowly reclaim-ing the entire area.
Jonas limped in, leaned his G3A3 sniper rifle against the wall and sat down on a pile of canvas sacks before the young woman could say anything. A squeal erupted from the cloth as a half-dozen angry rats boiled out of it and scurried around him, chittering all the while. The rest of the team took up positions around the perimeter while his team leader probed Jonas’s injury with gentle fingers.
“It’s nothing, sir. I can continue with the mission.” Jonas tried not to gasp as his leader pressed on his ankle, sending a bolt of pain through the rest of his foot.
“We cannot risk you slowing us down going there or back. You will have to remain here while we head out.”
Reinmann stood and turned to the woman, explained the situation and told her to remain, as well, that the team would be in touch once they had ascertained whether Safedy was actually where their contact had said he would be. Then he signaled to his team, and the group melted into the forest, gone in seconds.
With a hangdog expression Jonas watched them go. He tested his foot, but even sitting, the moment he put any weight on it, pain lanced up his leg, and he bit back a groan.
The young woman returned to stand over him, her arms crossed. “Shouldn’t you remove your boot?” she asked.
“If I take it off, the swelling will make it impossible to get back on again. Also, it is holding my foot in place, more or less, so there is less chance of causing further damage.” He eyed her, sensing her displeasure. “Believe me, I’d rather not be sitting around uselessly. I should be with my team right now, not—” he waved at the ruins around them
“—stuck here.”
She nodded, then knelt by him. “Your government must want this man very much, to come all this way for him.”