car ten minutes when Forest called on the in-car secure phone.
“Wade, I have just heard what happened. I think it would be a good idea for you and Crystal to get back here,” he said with an unusual level of concern in his voice.
The phone was on speaker and all in the vehicle had heard what the chief of the CIA had just said but they had also heard that it was a request, not an order. With all eyes locked on Wade, he calmly replied, “Why do you think that, General?”
After a slight pause the General said, “I realise that you, more than anyone else, could probably find who these shooters are and what they’re up to, but I feel we need a collaborative approach. Also I have some information you might find interesting.”
“Okay, we’ll drop Crystal’s father off at his home. We should be there in about two and a half hours,” replied Wade.
“No need. I have a chopper on route. It’ll pick you up on the outskirts. I’ll organise a detail for round the clock coverage of Crystal’s father’s house and I’ll meet you at the Warehouse,” exclaimed the General as the line went dead.
Washington DC
The Lakota helicopter landed on the deserted cargo hardstand in the derelict industrial area of West Washington. The blades had only just started to slow their revolutions as the four occupants leapt from the rear cabin area. With their heads lowered all four raced across to the waiting CIA issue black Suburban.
Wade, Crystal and the two agents had not said a word since they had climbed aboard the helicopter. The Suburban skirted two graffiti riddled sheds, raced across a large, open, pocked concrete hardstand that would have once been used for the storage of containers. A few burnt out, twisted containers and a mangled container lifter could still be seen on the perimeter. Three drug comatose addicts lay covered in newspaper. Plastic bottles, paper and used fast food cardboard packaging swirled behind the vehicle. They rounded the corner and slowed as the driver’s head swivelled from side to side watching for onlookers. Convinced all clear he planted the accelerator and they charged toward the rusty corrugated wall of the third, larger shed. Twenty metres from the wall and appearing not to slow, Crystal grabbed Wade’s arm and screamed.
The driver, Wade and the two agents never batted an eyelid as the wall dropped into the ground and the Suburban raced inside. The rubber on the tyres squealed as the vehicle came to a stop. Wade looked across to Crystal, put his hand on her leg and asked, “You okay?”
“My God, what next!” she nervously replied trying to calm herself whilst also being aware she had never felt safer than when she was with this man.
The Warehouse was a large, rusty, corrugated shed covering nearly twenty thousand square metres. All the windows and doors had been enclosed and welded shut. No natural light was able to enter the facility. Inside the building a bomb proof and radiation resistant structure had been built. The internal walls and roof had been covered with a lead lined and soundproofed material. All communication was through specially designed fibre technology that had been built into the corrugated sheets. Completely self sufficient with its own water, electricity, food and recycled air; occupants could comfortably live for ten weeks. The five metre by five metre door that dropped into the ground was the only means of access. The building was constantly under satellite and drone surveillance. Guarded by highly trained field operatives posing as homeless drunks.
Inside resembled the futuristic flight deck of a Star Trek spaceship. Two hundred people sat facing computer screens, analysing data or communicating with various parties throughout the world. 3D screens hovered above desks covered in maps and large plasma screens showed live images from the world’s hotspots. Men and women were in discussion whilst cutting, pasting and dragging information and photos. Forest had organised unidentifiable satellites to be available at all times.
Helping Crystal from the vehicle, Wade made his way toward Forest and Kia, the Israeli Mossad agent whom he had developed a close working relationship with over the years. He noticed Joe Plant, the CIA Station chief previously of the Turkish office, standing off to the left. Stopping in front of the General he put out his hand as he said, “Thanks for your help.”
Turning to Kia he put his arm around her shoulders and said, “Thank you. We’ll always be able to work together. Don’t forget that.”
As Wade headed toward Joe, Crystal noticed Kia trying to hide the tears that were forming. “Wade told me what happened and what you said. I don’t want you to worry or apologise as I believe I am still learning to understand how this world you all live in, operates,” said Crystal.
With her head bowed Kia responded, “Thank you Crystal. I’m sorry for the way I treated you. Hopefully I can make it up.”
Kia thought of how she had brutalised Crystal in Darwin, months earlier. How she had stepped outside the boundaries. She also knew that her work, as a Mossad agent, meant she was expected to perform tasks that others would not. But her biggest regret was losing respect from Wade. He was the closest she had to family and it ate at her to think she had jeopardised a relationship that had taken years to develop, all over a jealousy toward Crystal’s affections to Wade.
Forest called Wade, Joe, Kia, Crystal and three aides into a secure meeting room. Looking at the group the General spoke first, “We don’t appear to have a lot to go on regarding these shootings but Jade has found something of interest.”
A tall, extremely thin, pale skinned young woman who seemed very nervous at addressing the group stood and looking down at her notes, slowly and softly started to speak. With her long, snow white hair hanging in front of her face she tried to relay the information but nobody in the room could understand or hear her. Wade realised her predicament and rose, walked around the table and stood next to her as he said, “I understand how hard this might be for you, so sit down and take a deep breath. I’ll sit with you. You talk to me as if there’s no one else in the room … okay?”
Looking straight into Wade’s eyes she saw genuine caring and quietly said, “Thank you.”
Commencing again, looking at Wade, “We’ve examined the bullet casings found at both the shooting sites. They’re consistent with casings we found twelve months ago when two of our agents were shot, outside a Berlin diamond cutting house. When we finally gained access to the building it had been wiped clean. The only item worth noting was an indentation in a desk that showed an inverted Opus Dei symbol. We’ve been unable to follow this path any further until now. We don’t understand what the symbol implies but we do know somebody outside of the normal production factories has produced these bullets and therefore we feel the casings will be the link we’re looking for. We also believe the style of production would more likely indicate Italian manufacturing but we cannot confirm this.”
“Why a link between the symbol and the casings?” asked Wade.
“We were able to get some microscopic metal fragmentations from the desk which we know came from the symbol and these fragments match the metals used in the bullets. We know the symbol would not be made from this metal as it would be to soft but there is a possibility they came in contact, ie maybe were being carried together. We feel it is too coincidental to ignore.”
“Thank you Jade. You did very well. We appreciate all your help,” Wade replied as he helped her stand and escorted her, and her fellow workers, to the door.
Crystal watched and smiled, as he closed the door and returned to his seat.
“I don’t feel we’re any closer to who they are and what they want but I think it’s time I paid Ryan Cotterill a visit,”
