Read Cobra Clearance Online

Authors: Richard Craig Anderson

Cobra Clearance (33 page)

“Deal.” Recalling another friend's non-judgmental vow, he studied her anew. On one level her skin was flawless, the high cheekbones seductive; her breasts alluring. But on the higher level he felt her warmth, knew her depth; sensed her soul. On impulse he drew her into his arms. Her hands felt fresh against his bare back, her scent intoxicating. “Thanks for being my friend,” he said, and eased her away. But she held onto him. His breath caught. He didn't want this. He searched her eyes, but saw only a friend's violet eyes staring back. He nodded. So did she, and after she pecked his cheek he said, “Ditto for that.”

She smiled endearingly and said, “Chill out.”

“Okay. I deserved that.” He grinned, then gave her a direct look. “Bronk's certain to drop by; probably my engaging new girlfriend, too. It's your call.”

“Plan B.” She slipped her shoes off and checked her wig. “Let's do it.”

“Watch the fleas,” he warned as they undressed completely.
After they got in bed he pulled the flimsy sheet up but left the bedside lamp on.

They spoke quietly of other things while waiting for Bronk, since he had to “see” that Levi had bedded her. Then it was 3:00 a.m. He hadn't appeared but still might, so Levi killed the light and they turned onto their sides to get some sleep.

The shakes and the sweats hit later. Monica held him while he shivered and his teeth chattered, then toweled him when he lay atop the sheet drenched in sweat. When it got worse and showed no signs of abating, she asked if he wanted relief. Doubled-up in pain, his eyes shut tight, he said, “Yeah—and
hurry
.” But when she moved to prepare an injection he gripped her wrist and shook his head. Once it passed, she soothed his forehead with a damp towel until they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

In their sleep they migrated to each other, waking at dawn in an embrace. Neither of them felt flustered and Monica declared it good for both their souls. He agreed, and slid a hairy knee between her smooth legs for comfort. After she nestled her lovely cheek in the crook of his arm they languished free and easy, talking as friends while he absently ran the pad of his big toe up and down her silky calves. Later, when she patted his rear affectionately and draped an arm around his waist, he buried his nose in the base of her throat and inhaled deeply. “I love your smell.”

“Hmm. I like that.” She touched cool fingertips to his cheek and stared at him.

He squinted, then propped himself up on an elbow. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. Granted, we're becoming soul mates. But that's where it ends.”

“That's where you're wrong. We're actors on a stage. Remember?” Her hand tightened around his. “And it's time for our big love scene.”

His brows knitted in a frown. “And then?”

“Then we move on.”

“No. We don't. Because we're not…” But she was already urging him onto his back. He resisted at first, until an unspoken message flashed between them. Then he understood her need because it mirrored his own, and he grasped the gift that's offered when a global threat thrusts two people into intimate proximity. He let go of it all, and yielding to the gentle pressure of her hands, he lay back and took her with him. Her lips went briefly to his, then with a winsome smile she laid her head atop the death skulls on his chest and dozed off.

His release was total—he'd read her correctly and now basked in the texture of her skin against his. Closing his eyes, he caressed the back of her neck, loving the fine hairs he found there—but accepting that like an old married couple whose relationship was never consummated yet provides succor nonetheless, they at least had each other. Now he had a genuine friend to indulge in affable pillow talk with. Now he felt restored. And for the first time in three years he felt something else. Hope.

He also felt a consuming desire for heroin. He pushed past it.

When she finally stirred he nuzzled her ear. “Mmm. Did I tell you that I also love your warmth?” He kissed the top of her head and stretched cat-like, then got up naked to make coffee while she dressed. When it was ready he pulled on pants and offered her a cup. Afterwards they stepped outside under reedy clouds that signaled the vanguard of a frontal system moving in from the west. He asked, “Same time tonight?”

Instead of answering, she whirled and embraced him. “Nine o'clock,” she said in a low, clipped voice.

Levi flicked his eyes to his nine. Potts was behind the wheel of a dark van beneath a copse of dogwood at the far end of the cabins, smoking; watching. He had headphones on and Levi thought he saw a directional mic of some sort aimed at them. His guts twisted.
Did he hear us inside
? He pushed away from Monica. “Okay, see ya at nine.”

After watching Monica drive off, he went inside to sketch his next moves.

Levi finished lunch and was leaving the mess hall when Kruger stormed toward him. “Who the hell have you been talking to? And I am not referring to the woman seen leaving your cabin this morning.” He slashed a hand through the air. “Come with me.”

After an insulting pause Levi said, “Well okay—
sir
,” and matched Kruger's rapid strides toward the office. Potts was seated near the desk as they stormed inside.

Kruger asked straight away, “Who is Michael Bailey?”

“Only Michael I know is this dude what's been hanging 'round the Sunset.” He felt the .45 pressing against the small of his back. He would attack Potts first.

A subdued Kruger pointed to a chair next to his desk. “Sit.”

To sustain his image as a doper and not an agent—and both identities fit him now—he plopped onto the chair so that his works spilled out onto the floor. The used syringe rolled and hit Kruger's shoe.

Kruger picked it up and handed it to Levi. “I want that ring in your nose today. Is that clear?” When Levi nodded, Kruger sat and gestured at Potts. “He spends his time smoking, watching and waiting. Another night he saw you outside the Sunset talking to a tall blonde man. After seeing a confrontation of sorts, he lifted prints from his truck.”

He must mean the night I told Michael to expedite getting Monica to stand in as my main babe. And yeah, I struck my fist against my hand
. Levi shrugged.

Kruger rolled a pencil between his fingertips. “What took place, and why?”

Levi looked back with a combination of defiance and stupidity. “I went out for some air. The dude came out an' hit on me. Said he was married but swung both ways.”

A silence followed. Levi knew his salvo had caused them to change course.

Kruger cleared his throat. “But you'd seen him around? You know him?”

“Don't know his last name. Only know him as Mike, and…” “Michael,” Potts interrupted. “He does not like to be called Mike.”

Levi leaped to his feet. “Hey, you bloodless bastard. Who's telling this story?”

“Settle down,” Kruger growled, though it was obvious that he'd already taken Levi's side. “Then what?”

“Then nothing. I told him to bug off an' went back inside. After that I spent the night bonin' the hell outta this babe I been seein'.” He looked from Kruger to Potts and back again.

The look on the two men's faces told him he had scored a direct hit.

Kruger scowled and said in a voice brimming with distaste, “His name is Michael Bailey. Retired police captain. We think he now works for the Feds. ATF perhaps.” He said as an aside, “Last month we acquired a large amount of Semtex. My supplier is rock-solid, but sometimes rainwater seeps into even the strongest boulder and splits it.”

“Bailey's married to a Jew.” Potts put an unlit cigarette in his mouth. “He's also got children. By custom that makes them
Jewish
children.”

Levi shot Kruger a crafty look. “If he's working a case against us I'll ice him.”

Kruger formed his fingertips into a tent and held them against his lips. “It might come to that.” He tilted his head to one side.
“See? This is why we have Mr. Potts.”

Potts said primly. “I leave nothing unchecked.”

Levi didn't doubt it—Potts even knew of Michael's disdain for
Mike
. He needed to alert his friend. Nadia and the boys could be in danger. He saw an opening and seized it. “We done here now?”

“Almost. This fellow might not be a Fed. Let's keep an eye on him for now and see what he's after—besides you, that is.” He was interrupted by his cell, but when he glanced at the caller ID his expression changed from mild detachment to shock.

He answered it. While listening, his face went through a range of emotions, from alertness to distress. At the end of the conversation he muttered, “Change of plans. We attack in two days.” He looked at both men and growled, “Total lockdown. The entire compound, and I mean
now
.”

Kruger took Levi's cell and slid it into a desk drawer along with his own, then looked into his adjutant's eyes. “I see you're armed. Good. Kill anyone who bolts.”

Potts turned peevish as he handed over his cell. “Is all this necessary?”

“Affirmative. Total COMSEC. I'll have Bronk and Pete collect all cell phones.”

Levi planted his hands on Kruger's desk and leaned toward him. “Hey. You gonna friggin' tell us what's goin' on? Or do we play guessing games?”

Speaking briskly, Kruger said, “We're going forward. We leave tomorrow.”

Potts frowned. “Going forward
where
?”

Kruger's face got a strange light. “The White House—to kill Cohen.”

As Potts' eyes grew wide, Kruger explained. “That was Amahl.
He thinks he's being watched. That's why he broke my ironclad rule and called me here, and on my own cell.” He clucked his tongue. “No matter. Lockdowns are SOP prior to any mission.” He dropped his voice. “We locked down prior to Melchior's removal, and we'd have done so before the eighth of May.” He tapped Levi's arm. “Get ready. You and I are going to Cottonwood for a more secure confab. We leave in thirty minutes.”

Levi had to get word to Dragon Team about the change of plans and the possible threat to Michael's family. He rushed to the barracks to get his jacket, and feeling Brian's dog collar in the pocket he pushed it down deeper. It was almost noon but the clouds had dropped to five hundred feet. That hamstrung a visual signal through Avwatch, since even its FLIR couldn't penetrate condensation. Nor could he call the team even if he had a cell, due to the compound's emission sensors. That left two options. One was the SAT phone. The other required discipline, fortified by luck and a dash of insider knowledge concerning Avwatch's capabilities.
That's why I've got a cobra clearance
.

His personal problems vaporized as he stepped outside and made contingency plans, while walking an ace-up-the-sleeve pattern under lowering clouds.

Chris Lane adjusted the plane's power settings while circling directly overhead at 9,000 feet. He had filed IFR on takeoff but was quickly immersed in total instrument meteorological conditions. With the FLIR sidelined, he would rely upon an obscenely priced instrument that he'd installed on his aircraft. After receiving permission from Center to execute a 360, he flipped on the Synthetic Aperture Radar and flew a slow racetrack pattern over the compound, while the single SAR antenna made echo captures at multiple antenna positions. The more captures, the higher the target
characterization. The principle advantage was that a moving target—in this case, Levi walking a pattern within a known parameter—could be acquired, and because the antenna used monostatic waveforms to take several captures per second as the plane flew along its path, the SAR antenna was painting a picture of Levi's pattern.

Hacksaw's brow wrinkled as he analyzed the developing SAR image. He said without turning, “Trouble.”

Dentz looked over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“Levi's going incommunicado.” His fingers worried his jaw. “Could mean the attack's been moved up. But we don't know the what, when or how.”

“Or the ‘why,'” Dentz said.

Zafir took a call and afterward tossed his disposable cell into the nearest trash can. Deeply troubled, he walked aimlessly along Collins Avenue. He always knew his life was limited by his usefulness to the greater cause. But when he and his men escaped detection after Fiveash, they expected to flee the country. However, Amahl had forbidden it. Now they'd been given a new mandate and it unnerved him.

If he knew nothing else about Americans, he understood that they enjoyed first rate police protection. Although agencies hoarded their information as they postured and preened for advantage over other outfits, they somehow managed to bring it all together. Fiveash had been a watershed event, and while only six people died, the fear it generated had devastated Florida's economy.

Zafir was already seeing shadows wherever he turned. Now Amahl had placed him in dire jeopardy with his call. As Zafir lumbered along the beachfront he ignored the nearly-naked girls that
swept by him with lingering looks. He yearned to return home and put all this behind him. But he could not, and knew this. Leaving the sun-drenched girls of the beach, he turned toward his apartment to brief his colleagues. Then they would prepare their weapons for a pre-dawn raid on Miami International.

Levi toyed with the labret in his chin. “Well?”

Kruger drove from the mall parking lot after taking Amahl's call. “You heard. As for when and how, we fly to Maryland tomorrow at first light.” He peered through the windshield at the gray scud. “The weather won't stop us. I'll file IFR.”

“Who's going?”

“You, Pete, Bronk and Potts.” Kruger headed east toward the interstate. Traffic was light and he talked openly. He and Amahl had revised the attack plan. The president was scheduled to attend an economic summit in Luxembourg. Marine One would pluck him from the South Lawn and whisk him to Andrews. Kruger would use men from a local cell to launch a mortar attack as Cohen stepped aboard the helicopter. He looked at Levi. “You've earned a place of honor at my side when we hit him.”

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