Rogue Commander, page 4
part #3 of Titus Black Series
“Did you solve the world’s problems while you were out here?” Shields asked.
Black turned around and forced a smile. “That would be nice. I’m just trying to solve a mystery and save some lives.”
“Lives worth saving?”
“That’s something I was hoping you might be able to tell me.”
“My brain is starting to clear, so maybe I’ll have something for you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m trying to develop a cipher.”
Black pushed away from the rail and looked at Shields. “I wish I knew what The Ghost’s end game was.”
“I doubt it’s complicated. He’s probably like everybody else, just out there trying to make a dollar.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“You know what I mean. He might be following the directives given to him by his handler.”
“The one who got blown to pieces all over the street?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe there’s someone else who’s really pulling the strings. At this point, I’m not willing to make any definitive statements about the agenda behind The Ghost.”
“Can we start to narrow down who he is?”
“Not exactly. I’m still trying to decode everything.”
The sound of someone clapping arrested Black’s attention. He spun around to see Blunt striding toward them.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Black said. “I was wondering if we needed to send out a search party.”
Blunt scowled and shot Black a sideways glance. “I had some business to attend to.”
“In the Keys?” Shields asked.
“I just go where the evidence leads,” Blunt said. “Sometimes that happens to be in paradise.”
“Makes no difference now,” Black said. “You’re here and we have a lot to talk about.”
Blunt nodded. “Indeed we do.” He turned toward Shields. “How are you? Are you feeling okay?”
“Much better than a few days ago. I’ll be back to one hundred percent tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Blunt said. “Let me get settled, and I’ll meet you two back here on the veranda in fifteen minutes.”
Black killed the time by digging through Lebedev’s book with Shields. She jotted down a few letters and compared them with notes from previous pages.
“What do you think this letter means?” Black asked.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “I think I’ve got it.”
Black watched as Shields hastily wrote out a cipher. When she was finished, she held it up and nodded.
“This is it,” she said. “I cracked Lebedev’s code.”
“Are you sure?”
“Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”
Black huffed a soft laugh through his nose. “You could answer in plain English instead of that South Georgia esoteric lingo that nobody outside of the Okefenokee swamp understands.”
“Just think about it, okay?”
“Since I’ve never seen a one-legged duck, I’m going to assume that you meant yes.”
“I guess you’re not as lost as last year’s Easter egg after all.”
“Okay, this is getting really annoying. I’m considering hiding your leg in the middle of the night.”
“That’s a good way to get beaten to death after I find it.”
Black moaned. “Plain English from now on, please. It’s bad enough that we had to decipher Lebedev’s code. But your crazy colloquialisms are making me all horns and rattles.”
“All what?”
“Yeah, you don’t like that, do you, when you can’t understand someone who speaks your language but uses strange phrases to communicate in?”
“Okay, okay. I’ll just say it in plain English next time. Not everybody is lucky enough to be born in God’s country to understand the divine tongue.”
Blunt strolled back into the room. “Well, hopefully you two have been productive in my absence.”
Black shrugged. “Does a one-legged duck swim in a circle?”
Blunt nodded and didn’t skip a beat. “Good to hear you’re making the most of your time because we don’t have much time to lose if we’re going to put an end to The Ghost.”
Black furrowed his brow and eyed Blunt cautiously. “Am I the only one who’s never heard that phrase until just a few minutes ago?”
Blunt patted his agent on the arm. “If you hang out with Shields long enough, she’ll make you an honorary Southerner.”
“That’s not something I can bestow upon you,” she said. “That only comes by the grace of God.”
“Why don’t we get down to business, okay?” Black suggested as he gestured toward the dining room inside.
Blunt meandered over to the table and sat at the head of it. Black and Shields joined him, flanking their boss on opposite sides.
“What do we know so far?” Blunt asked.
The two operatives recounted the details of their encounter with Lebedev and all the events that happened directly afterward. Shields tapped the black book on the table as Black briefed Blunt.
“Since Lebedev is dead, the only real matter of consequence to come from that op is the black book Shields retrieved from Lebedev’s booby-trapped suitcase,” Black said.
“And it almost killed me,” she added.
“But you’re here now,” Blunt said, “so there must be something else to this story.”
“There is—and it’s this,” Shields said, holding up the moleskin. “I have Lebedev’s assignments.”
“I’m imagining that it’s coded,” Blunt said.
“Was coded,” she said as she waved her index finger. “But I just developed a cipher.”
“And what do we know now?” he asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to apply it yet, but I think I should be able to break down the shorthand and figure out what Lebedev was up to.”
The doorbell rang, arresting their attention. Blunt trudged over to study the security camera.
“Who is it?” Shields asked.
“I don’t know,” Blunt said. “Whoever he is, he’s already walking away.”
“Be careful,” she said.
Blunt opened the door slowly before poking his head outside. He looked in both directions before noticing an envelope in the center of the welcome mat. He knelt and picked up the piece of correspondence.
“What is it?” Shields asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Blunt said as he read the note.
“Nothing?” she asked. “You have people periodically depositing things on your doorstep?”
Blunt sighed as he strode to the table. “I can see that you’re not going to leave this alone until I tell you.”
Shields nodded. “You know me well.”
“In that case, it’s about a chess game this afternoon with one of my informants. He’s sick and won’t be able to make it.”
“You have an informant here?” Black asked.
“Does a one-legged . . .” Blunt stopped and grinned. “I have contacts everywhere, even here in Morocco. Now, if everyone is done prying, I’d like to get back to discussing how we’re going to develop a plan to catch The Ghost. That bastard needs to pay for what he did.”
“We’ll make sure of that,” Black said. “As soon as we’re able to break down all this info in Lebedev’s book, we’ll figure out our next steps.”
“Excellent,” Blunt said. “Can you correlate all these assassinations across Europe and the Middle East with what’s on those pages? If we can say with certainty that he was behind all of them, we might be able to review some of the footage using facial recognition software and tie someone to every crime scene.”
“I doubt The Ghost was out in the open,” Black said.
“Probably not, but it’s a place to start,” Blunt said as he headed toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Shields asked.
“I’ve got a chess game in the park,” he said.
She wrinkled her brow and cocked her head to one side. “I thought your informant was sick.”
“I have more than one informant here,” Blunt said before he turned toward the door and left.
“Looks like it’s me and you who’ll be burning the midnight oil,” Black said.
Shields didn’t say anything, her eyes already locked on the notes Lebedev scrawled into his book. “What was the date those emissaries were murdered in Jordan?”
“It was a week ago,” he said. “That’d be the twelfth.”
She smiled and grinned. “No doubt about it,” she said. “I cracked this code. And The Ghost is our guy.”
CHAPTER 6
BLUNT WAITED UNTIL he rounded the corner before pulling the note out of his pocket and re-reading it. After taking a quick glance around, he wadded up the paper and crammed it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure what was more concerning—the contents of the message or the fact that someone knew exactly where he was.
He hated lying to his team, but he didn’t want to distract them from their pursuit of The Ghost. Blunt decided to set aside the contents of the letter for the moment and focus on his upcoming meeting with his primary—and sole contact—in Tangiers.
After Blunt rounded the corner, he pulled out a keffiyeh along with his sunglasses and donned them both in an attempt to blend into the background of the busy city life.
Upon reaching Marshan Park, he maneuvered through a pack of boys chasing a soccer ball. When he arrived near the chess tables, he found his contact Omar Abidi setting up a board for their match.
Blunt greeted Abidi in Arabic before taking a seat across from him.
“Are you ready to lose again?” Abidi asked.
“Again? I don’t recall you ever beating me.”
Abidi chuckled and shook his head. “You Americans and your short memories.”
“That is what makes us so great,” Blunt said. “We don’t wallow in the past, unless it suits us politically.”
“Don’t get me started on your politics.”
“Like most Americans, I prefer that we not discuss them at all.”
“Ah, something we can both agree on,” Abidi said with a smile. He pushed his glasses up on his nose before moving the final pawn in place.
Blunt sat in front of the white pieces and made his first move. “Can we also agree that The Ghost is a threat to everyone?”
Abidi moved his pawn and nodded. “Most of the rulers would prefer to see him eliminated. But at the moment, it’s like trying to catch a shadow. He has the means and the necessary skill set to drift wherever he pleases, avoiding capture on numerous occasions.”
The two men continued their game, knocking each other’s pieces off the board until only a handful remained.
Blunt pushed his queen forward several spaces and then eyed Abidi. “So, you’ve come face to face with The Ghost. What would you do differently if you had the opportunity again?”
“I wouldn’t try to capture him,” Abidi said, his eyes locked on the game.
“Why not?”
“At least, not by use of physical force.”
“What do you mean?”
Abidi looked up. “Do you know how we trap monkeys around here?”
Blunt shook his head.
“You stick the bait in a cage just small enough for them to slip their hands through the bars. Then when they try to pull out the banana, they can’t get out. At least, not without dropping the food. And they won’t. They’ll just hang on. And then all you have to is snatch them up. It’s quite simple, really.”
“The Ghost is much smarter than a monkey. I’m not sure I understand how your analogy applies here.”
“You just have to find the right bait, the kind that he won’t let go of.”
Blunt sighed. “That’d be nice. But we don’t even know who he is yet.”
“You’re not alone. However, I would say that until you capture him, you’re not going to know anything about him. There’s a reason he’s known as The Ghost.”
“What you’re saying is that it’s going to be impossible to corner and apprehend him.”
“Check,” Abidi said as he nodded and then moved his knight on the board, backing Blunt’s king into a corner.
Blunt stroked his chin as he mulled his next move, shooting furtive glances at his opponent.
Abidi leaned back in his chair as he continued surveying the board. “Without any more information on the assassin, impossible might be an understatement.”
Blunt’s eyes flickered with excitement as he saw a pathway to victory. He moved his queen, knocking Abidi’s knight off the board. Abidi cursed just loud enough for Blunt to hear. Moments later, Abidi made his move.
Blunt smiled and transported his bishop a few diagonal spaces. “Check mate, my friend.”
Abidi studied the board before tipping over his king. “That’s impossible.”
“You made one mistake,” Blunt said. “And sometimes, that’s all it takes.”
“Don’t expect The Ghost to make any mistakes. We have been tracking him for a very long time because he must pay for what he’s done to the brotherhood. But he’s too careful.”
“Will your brotherhood be satisfied if we take him out for you?”
“Probably not, but I can’t speak for everyone.”
“Well, if you hear anything else regarding his whereabouts, please reach out to me. I’m going to bring the full weight of my organization upon his head until I get some answers.”
“If I hear something, I’ll let you know. Until then, I enjoyed the match, not the outcome.”
“Of course,” Blunt said. “The pleasure was all mine.”
Blunt exited the park, considering what Abidi had said about The Ghost and contemplating a way to set a trap so enticing that he couldn’t resist it. The Firestorm team needed to gather more information on their target, whoever he really was.
As Blunt rounded the corner, he jammed his hands into his jacket pockets. The crumpled up note rustled as he fingered it. After pulling it out again, he re-read it: “The Rangers are a smokescreen. Look elsewhere.”
Blunt was curious about who’d slipped the message onto his front doorstep and why. Was it simply a distraction? Or was someone trying to be helpful? The messenger mattered as much as the words on the piece of paper.
Blunt wadded up the warning and crammed it into his pocket. Regardless of the intent of the message, Blunt was determined not to let it influence his decision-making. He had a job to do, to find out who was behind the murders of these Army Rangers. And he wasn’t going to let the curious letter throw him off course.
CHAPTER 7
SHIELDS SQUINTED AS the doctor shone his penlight into her eyes. Bright lights had bothered her since childhood, as had anyone from the medical field. The constant poking coupled with the list of endless questions made her uneasy, even though she was assured everything that was happening was detrimental to her health.
“Agent Shields, if you don’t sit still, I’m afraid I won’t be able to continue my evaluation,” the doctor said.
“Really?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the small beam. “Is that all I have to do to get you to go away?”
“This is protocol,” he said. “If I don’t clear you, you don’t continue.”
“Says who?”
“Those are the agency’s rules.”
“I don’t work for the agency,” she growled. “We’re independent and not beholden to—”
“The agency is funding this particular mission, and they have certain standards that must be met for every operative in the field. Their money, their rules. Is that clear?”
Shields huffed. “Clear or not, it doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice.”
“No, you don’t. Now, if you’ll kindly sit still and open your eyes, I’ll have your health report ready to submit to the agency in a jiffy. And from what I understand, time is of the essence.”
Shields settled down and allowed the doctor to finish his evaluation. Once he completed all his checks, he packed up his bag and headed toward the door.
“So, what’s the verdict?” she asked.
“You’re fine. I’ll clear you for field work as soon as I can submit my report.”
“Thank you.”
Once he exited the safe house, she turned toward Black. “Do they really think they can stop me?”
“Probably just some paper pusher doing his job at Langley,” Black said. “But to answer your question, they’d be foolish to try to make you quit.”
Shields pulled her sweatshirt on and followed Black into the dining room where her laptop was set up and papers and documents were strewn across the table. She took a seat and wrapped her hands around a mug.
“Hmm,” she said, “this is still warm. Did you make this for me?”
“Brewing a pot of coffee is one of my special skills, even though I’m not a fan of drinking it.”
“I’ve seen you gulp down a cup before,” she said, casting a sideways glance at him.
“Only under the most dire set of circumstances.”
“You afraid it’s going to melt you?”
Black chuckled and shook his head. “I had a boss once who used to drop a cup on my desk at the start of every shift. He told me that I couldn’t call myself a true agent unless I drank coffee. Something about it being a requirement for stakeouts. I rebuffed his generous offer for the better part of three months before I finally relented. I spewed it out almost as soon as the lukewarm liquid swirled around my tongue.”
“He was trying to convince you to drink coffee and he gave you a tepid cup?”
“Straight from a machine, too.”
“That’s criminal.”
“I agree. So I decided if everybody in the office was drinking this garbage, they at least ought to drink stuff that tasted good.”
“What kind of blend is this?”
“Moroccan,” Black said with a wink. “Now sit down. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“Actually, I’ve already started,” she said as she slid into her chair. “You didn’t think I was going to lie around in my room and not investigate, did you?”
“I’d expect nothing less. What have you found so far?”
