Edge of Tomorrow (21 page)

“This is Sniper One. The driver is down,” she
heard in her ear, followed by, “Sniper Two, passenger down.”

“Move in, Packy! Bruno!” she heard Hatch
order.

Two vans pulled up and the two unconscious
men were quickly carried to Packy’s van where they were handcuffed,
feet tied, and mouths taped.

Hatch had arrived in his car as soon as Sara
had finished using the spray. He put his arm around her and patted
her shoulder.

“Good show, Sara! It worked just like you
said it would,” he told her. “Get in the car. We’ll handle
this.”

“I think I will,” she said shakily, and moved
away.

Hatch went to Packy’s van and told Packy,
“Take them to Klaus Haus and lock them in the security area at the
compound. Have one of your men take their car back to Miami and
park it in the airport parking lot. Now, let’s get out of here,
quietly.”

One man took the bait car off of its jack,
got in and drove away. The snipers had reappeared and they each
gave Sara a thumbs up as they made their way to their van.

• • •

It was 5:30 A.M. when Hatch and Sara arrived
back at Klaus Haus. They walked up the stairs together.

“Go and get some sleep, Sara. We’ll deal with
that trash later. Then we’ll plan Phase 2—getting those two to
Israel,” said Hatch.

“I think I’ll try, even though the adrenaline
is still pumping. I was afraid I would get a whiff of that gas and
fuck things up,” Sara answered. “I’m supposed to meet Syd at nine
and give her a tour of the secure area.”

“That will have to wait for now. We’ll be
taking a trip later today, and I want Syd with us. Also, Syd and I
are supposed to give statements to the police. I’ll have to call
Jerry and see how that can be handled. I’ll leave a message for
Mrs. C. telling her you and I may sleep in. She can take care of
Syd until we get up. You get some rest. It’s going to be a long
day.”

Klaus Haus, Florida

Thursday, August 2, 2001

7:15 A.M.

When Syd awakened, she was confused for a
moment. She was not sure where she was. Then she stretched and
yawned as it all came back to her. She looked at the digital clock
on the bed-side table and saw that it was 7:15 A.M. She was not
supposed to meet Sara until nine, but she needed coffee badly. She
had drunk more alcohol than she normally did yesterday, and she
felt slightly hung-over. She climbed out of bed and realized she
had not put on a nightgown last night. She remembered how tired she
had been. Waking up naked without a man in her bed reminded her of
how dreadful her life had become. She had not had sex for over four
months, and the last time had been a one-night-stand with an
Israeli commando. She took a quick shower and dressed in jeans,
sneakers, and a loose-fitting white tee shirt, which she let hang
loose. She was happy to have her bras now. Going braless in front
of strangers yesterday had made her feel uneasy, and she had not
missed the fact that Bruno’s eyes were boring holes in her chest.
She brushed her hair and applied light makeup.

Downstairs, she found the kitchen without
difficulty. A pot of coffee had been brewed already by somebody, so
she poured some into a mug she found in a cabinet. It was good
coffee. She looked around to see if Juan Valdez was lurking
somewhere with his donkey. She sat down at the kitchen table and
reviewed the events of the day before. Then it hit her.

They should have moved against those
Iranians by now! And I was sleeping like a baby! I wonder how it
went. I’ll die if anyone got hurt! I need to know what’s happening!
Where is everybody? Probably still sleeping! Shit!

She got up and poured herself another mug of
coffee and began pacing, looking at her watch every few seconds.
Then Mrs. Chamberlain stepped out of Vogue Magazine again and
entered the kitchen with a smile on her face.

“There you are, Sydney. Hatch left me a
message for you. He said to tell you that everything went well last
night, and that he and Sara are going to sleep late. So Sara will
not meet you here at nine. Why don’t you come over to the dining
room? Philippe is serving breakfast,” she told Syd.

A flood of relief surged over Syd’s body.
Everything had gone well!

Where are the culprits? Why doesn’t someone
come and tell me what happened?

Syd followed Mrs. Chamberlain to the dining
room and killed forty-five minutes eating breakfast and chatting
with Mrs. Chamberlain. She had wonderful cheese blintzes with fresh
fruit. Then, Mrs. Chamberlain went off to her office, leaving Syd
alone with her taut nerves. She finally arose and wandered into the
library, where she started reading the titles on the book spines,
searching for something to read to help pass the time until someone
showed up.

• • •

At 10:05 A.M., Hatch and Sara whisked into
the library, chatting and laughing.

“Ah, there you are, Syd!” smiled Hatch.

“Sorry I didn’t make it by nine, but I was up
most of the night,” explained Sara.

“God! You guys are OK? I was climbing the
walls! What happened last night?” asked Syd in one breath.

“Everything went smoothly,” answered
Hatch. “How would you like to meet our
unwilling
guests? I can’t wait to see their
reaction when they see you!”

While the three of them climbed into a golf
cart and headed toward the “North Forty,” Hatch gave Syd a quick
synopsis of what went down the night before. Syd was impressed at
their professionalism—and the new gas they had used. She made a
mental note to try and get more details about it later. She was
especially impressed by what Sara had done—used herself as
bait.

At the moment, she was thinking about the two
people Hatch had locked up somewhere on his vast grounds.

It will be interesting to see those assholes
squirm when they see that their target has trapped them, instead of
the other way around. I am really pissed that those bastards
couldn’t leave me alone. I was just beginning to unwind. I didn’t
want anymore of that life! I’m ready for the boring, slow pace of
teaching again. Can I ever put that other life behind me?

Hatch was driving the cart along a two-lane
paved road that had large trees and deep green foliage on both
sides. At some places, the trees covered the road and blotted out
the sun. About every thirty yards or so, the road took a sharp
turn, first one way, then the other.

“Why so many switchbacks on this road?” asked
Syd. “Is it swampy in there?”

“Not really. These switchbacks are better
than speed bumps. No way anyone can speed along here,” answered
Hatch. “It obviates any high-speed chases.”

“Why do you expect high-speed chases?” Syd
asked, confused.

“I don’t. Not the way we designed this. Just
looking ahead. An ounce of prevention.”

Christ! I thought I was beginning to
understand these people, but there is always something new to
confound me. This is like a rain forest in South America. Who would
want to speed along in here?

“How much further?” she asked. “How big is
this place?”

“Not far. I actually have a tract of about
190 acres, but only parts of it are developed. I wanted to have a
lot of greenery for privacy purposes. It’s laid out much like
Disneyland. A lot of switchbacks; things are closer together than
it seems. The trees and foliage are thick enough to hide one area
from another,” Hatch explained as he took a hard right.

“So, is Fantasyland around the next bend?”
laughed Syd.

“No, actually, the next stop is more like
Adventureland. Fantasyland is further down the road,” Hatch replied
with a smile. He was thinking of the hangar that housed the
Shadow-5 helicopter.

They arrived finally at a large clearing. In
the middle of the clearing was a helipad with a helicopter parked
on it. The chopper was painted white and sported the blue Triple
Eye logo, which was a globe of the world with 3 eyes orbiting
around it. On the edge of the clearing to the right was a long,
two-story concrete block building. It was painted forest green and
blended into the background of the forest of trees and vines. At
one end of the building was a parking lot with 20 to 25 cars parked
on it.

A dark green Jeep Cherokee was parked at one
of two gas pumps at the far end of the clearing. A man dressed in
camos was pumping gas into its tank. Syd spotted two other men
attired in camos, one near the chopper, and the other near a door
in the long building. They all wore sidearms. The ones near the
door and the chopper had weapons slung from their shoulders. Syd
thought they were similar to Heckler and Koch MP-5s. These two also
wore headsets with boom mikes. Their eyes were covered by dark
aviator sunglasses.

Syd recognized the helicopter as a Bell 430.
She was partly correct. It was heavily modified to include Triple
Eye satellite communication and GPS systems, and advanced infrared
and electronic surveillance equipment. Its seating accommodated two
pilots and six passengers. Syd wondered if this was one of Smitty’s
toys.

To their left, Syd saw a small dock with a
speed boat tied to it, so there was obviously access via water to
this compound.

Another ounce of
prevention?
thought Syd.

“Amazing! This is like a drug lord’s compound
in the forests of Columbia!” exclaimed Syd. “Why the armed
men?”

“This building houses, in part, a Triple Eye
Data Collection Center. The computer and communications equipment
here, and the data are all classified at the highest levels. As a
condition of our contracts with the CIA, DIA, DOD, et cetera, we
are required to have the site secured to the maximum. There are
more armed men around here than you can see. Much more secure than
a drug lord’s compound,” Hatch explained, chortling.

“How many people work here?” asked Syd,
pointing at the parking lot.

“About forty or so. Many are locals, but some
are from our headquarters in Langley, Virginia. They all have
housing off-base, although there are a small number of sleeping
quarters available for emergency use.”

The cart stopped in front of the door where
the armed guard was stationed. He did not snap to attention, but he
straightened his stance and touched his right hand to the visor of
his baseball cap, as if he were used to saluting in a former
life.

“Good morning, sir,” he said to Hatch.
“Ma’am,” was added as Sara dismounted.

“Good morning, Charlie,” Hatch replied. “How
goes it with our visitors?”

“We fed them, then moved them to the
Discussion Room,” Charlie answered. His eyes were on Syd as she
climbed out of the golf cart.

“Charlie, this is Sydney Steppe. She’s
cleared for entry here. Syd, this is Charlie Cobb, today’s Captain
of the Guard, so-to-speak,” said Hatch.

“Ma’am,” said Charlie, touching his visor
again. Syd did not know if the once over he was giving her was
because he was checking out her body, or because the story of Dr.
Z. had been passed around the compound. It was a little of both,
since Smitty had told several people about the knife-wielding Dr.
Zorrina. The story had been too good to keep to himself.

“Pleased to meet you, Charlie,” replied
Syd.

Charlie stepped away from the door and Hatch,
Sara, and Syd entered the building. The cool air inside was
refreshing, since it was already hot and humid outside. They
entered a large foyer which had a desk occupied by a gray-haired
woman dressed in a bright pink pant suit. Hatch and Sara greeted
her by name as they signed a log on the desk. Syd was asked to
sign-in also.

Then the three of them walked down a hall to
the right of the front door. At the end of the hall was a
windowless metal door. Hatch placed his left hand on a flat pad on
the wall and pushed a button next to it. The door clicked and he
pushed it open and they entered a large room. There was a couch
along the outside wall with a low table in front of it. An
upholstered chair sat at an angle at each end of the couch. The
walls were painted an off-white, and there were no pictures hung on
the outside wall. There was a windowless, steel door on the
opposite wall. Next to the door was a large oil painting of pink
flamingos and garish tropical flowers. Syd thought it was quite
ghastly.

“Let’s take a look, Syd,” said Hatch as he
pushed a button next to the painting.

The painting slid to the side, revealing a
window that looked into the room behind the steel door. The two
prisoners sat on chairs on either side of a table on a pedestal.
The pedestal was bolted to the floor and the prisoners were
handcuffed to metal rings welded to the metal table. Syd jumped
back when she saw them.

“They can’t see you, yet. This is a one-way
window,” explained Sara.

The two men were dressed in dark pants and
white dress shirts, no ties. Syd thought one of them looked
familiar, as if she had seen his picture before, but she wasn’t
really sure. Rage started to build up in her. Those two and their
buddies were screwing up her life! She had wanted to leave that
phase of her life behind her and move on.

“That one on the left looks familiar to me. I
wonder why?” asked Syd with a wrinkled brow.

“It could be you saw his picture back in
Israel. I talked to Uri this morning. He got the pictures I sent
him and they identified all four of our hit men. The one you think
looks familiar is Mohammed bin Ali bin Saleh al-Thani. He’s the
brother of the leader of the Wrath of Allah,” said Hatch. “I guess
that shows how important your death is to them.”

“Why do Arabs have such long names? What’s
wrong with plain old John Smith?” asked Sara.

“It’s really quite simple, Sara,” said
Syd. “It actually makes more sense than most naming systems. An
Arab’s name is like his family tree. In Arabic,
bin
means
son
of
, and
bint
means
daughter of.
So
you just string first names together. That asshole in there is
the
son of Ali al-Thani
, who
in turn is the
son of Saleh
al-Thani
. His brother—the haughty leader of the
Wrath—is named Hamad bin Ali bin Saleh al-Thani. I looked for him
for three years, but he was too slippery, and too well
guarded.”