Edge of Tomorrow (88 page)

Abby Carter went to the wet bar that was
right outside the kitchen in the den and fixed Syd a drink.

“Well,” said Sara, “are you going to tell us
anything?”

“Only that Soup plays a computer keyboard
like Hatch plays the piano. He is a veritable musician on those
keys! I want to keep Marty’s deniability in place, so I’ll talk to
you later, Sara. You’re already corrupted!”

“Now, now, Syd! I don’t want Marty to think
badly of me!”

“No chance of that!” he laughed.

Sara elbowed him playfully and said, “At
least we get a home-cooked meal tonight. Abby’s doing a
southern-fried chicken dinner for us. How’s that sound?”

“With cornbread?” asked Syd.

“And biscuits!” answered Abby. “You get a
choice.”

Syd asked, “Did anyone check on Hatch?”

“I did,” answered Marty. “Twenty minutes ago.
He’s still in the coma as expected, but vitals are getting
stronger.”

“Thanks, Marty.”

• • •

The dinner was served family style on the
large, well-worn, wooden kitchen table. Syd insisted that the
Carters join them, so the five of them got their fingers greasy
eating fried chicken and corn on the cob. At Syd’s request, the
Carters told stories about the farm and Hatch’s love of it. They
talked about listening to him play the piano and sing. There was a
piano in the den. They said winter was his favorite time here, when
the snow was on the ground, but he also came around in the spring
to ride his horses. Syd got teary-eyed as she listened to them.

After dinner, Syd helped Abby clear the table
and load the dishwasher, while Sara saw Marty outside to his sports
car. Sara let him cop a few feels before he kissed her goodnight
and drove off into the night.

• • •

Syd briefed Sara on what Soup had found out,
and told her he would probably have more data tomorrow. Then, maybe
they could form a plan of action. She didn’t ask Sara about her
afternoon with Marty.

• • •

The next morning, Syd met Sara at 7:30 A.M.
and they went for a run down to the horse stables. Syd met Ben
Cord, the horse trainer, and checked out some of the horses.

Ben told them, “This is Black Angel. Hatch
always rides him when he shows up here. I hope he’ll be ridin’ him
again soon.”

“Me, too, Ben,” murmured Syd. “Well, nice
meeting you, Ben. I have work to do.”

They ran the mile back to the farm house,
then showered and dressed. Abby fed them a country breakfast of
eggs, bacon, ham, fried potatoes, and biscuits and gravy. They both
ate heartily after their brief run. Syd’s blood was flowing again,
but after the heavy breakfast, she made a mental note to run again
later in the day.

• • •

Syd had called Marty and asked to be picked
up at nine o’clock. Jensen and his limo were waiting when Syd and
Sara walked out into the bright, cloudless day. It was hot
already.

Jensen took them up the private elevator
again and ushered them into Marty’s office. Syd left Sara in his
office and made her way down to Soup’s office. There were people in
all of the cubicles today, and there was hushed whispering as they
watched the statuesque woman walk down the hall. They had all heard
the rumors about who she was, and about what had happened to Hatch.
They all wondered what the future would bring.

• • •

Soup greeted Syd cheerfully, though he was
obviously tired. He needed a shave, shower, and change of clothes.
Empty pizza boxes were stacked in one corner.

“Good morning, Syd! Have a good night?” he
asked with a grin.

“Yes, thank you, Soup. As good as possible.
Why don’t you get out of here and get some rest yourself.”

“I will, as soon as I brief you. How about
some coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

“Sure, that would be nice,” said Syd,
wondering why this man who did not even know her would stay up all
night working for her.

As Soup poured her some steaming coffee, he
remarked, “Jane was here looking for you earlier. I told her that I
didn’t know when you would show up.”

“I guess I should check in with her. I was so
focused that I forgot my manners. I’m not fucking things up for
you, am I?”

“Heavens no! When it comes to this system, I
report to no man—or woman,” laughed Soup. “You can catch her later.
I’ve got some things to go over with you now.”

Soup explained some of the searches he had
performed during the night, and others that were still
underway.

“What I can tell you is this: James Gramble
is definitely a possible player in this. He is the one who accessed
the Vlastok file last Monday. Then, that same day, he made a call
to St. Petersburg, Russia. That’s where Vlastok hangs out. Then,
Vlastok arrives in Miami on Friday, August 31. Hatch was shot the
next day—on Saturday morning,” he told Syd.

“So, considering that Gramble
personally told his agent—Lady Morley—in Monterra to put
surveillance on Hatch, and the CIA guy tailing us in Greece, I
would say Gramble
is
behind
this. Especially, when you add in the factor that Hatch has hated
him for years for ordering the hit on Kat,” replied an excited Syd
as she blew across the top of her mug of hot coffee.

Soup continued, “Remember, Syd, this is just
one possibility. It’s all circumstantial. Giuseppe Silva, the Mafia
hit man was also in Miami on Saturday. He was scheduled on a flight
to Chicago on Sunday, but I haven’t established for sure yet
whether he actually arrived there. Still working on it. And I’m
still working off the list of other arrivees.”

“I sure appreciate this, Soup! I still think
it’s Vlastok!”

“Maybe you’re right. However, it could
be someone who lives
here
, in
the U.S. We may be chasing smoke,” shrugged Soup.

“I realize this is nearly an impossible task
I’ve given you, Soup. But you’ve uncovered so much in just a short
time!”

“I’ll keep at it.”

“I know you will. Were you able to locate
this Vlastok?” asked Syd.

“I thought you would never ask,” he laughed.
“Yes. If he’s still there. Here’s the address of a motel in south
Miami where he registered on Friday. Also, he has a reservation on
United Airlines to go back to Russia tomorrow afternoon. Here’s a
picture of him from his CIA file. It’s old, but it’s all I could
find.”

“You’re a doll, Soup!” exclaimed Syd as
she jumped up and began pacing, a plan formulating in her mind.
“You showed me yesterday that you can access files without leaving
so-called footprints. Can you also create
false
footprints?”

“What do you mean exactly?” he asked with an
arched eyebrow.

“Make it look like someone accessed a file
when they didn’t,” she explained.

“Sure. Easy on our system. Harder on someone
else’s.”

“Ours will do for what I have in mind.”

Then she explained what she wanted him to do.
His grin got wider as she talked.

She finished by saying, “Even though Gramble
needs killing for what he did to Kat—and his possible involvement
in this attack on Hatch—killing him would be a mistake. I’ve seen
how the CIA bands together when one of their own is attacked. So my
plan should disgrace him in the eyes of the CIA, the President, and
the world. And, hopefully, put him behind bars for a very long
time.”

“You’re a sneaky bitch! It should work!”
smiled Soup. “A perfect ending for that asshole.”

“You don’t have to do this, Soup. It is very,
very illegal, you know!”

Soup laughed, “I broke several laws last
night. You glibly tossed off killing this asshole as an option.
That’s even more illegal! He needs punishing for things we can
never prove. We’re just going to set some things up that can be
proved.”

“My thoughts exactly. How do we tip off the
FBI?” asked Syd.

“I’ll take care of that. I’ll send some
untraceable email to the agent-in-charge in Richmond.”

“Fine. OK, I have to get to Miami quickly. I
want to see if I can talk to this Russian assassin before he leaves
the country. You go home and get some sleep. You can do more of
your magic tonight,” said Syd as she took Soup’s hand. “Remember,
I’m only a call away. Keep me posted.”

“I will, Syd. Take a couple of Liberators
with you when you look for the Russian. He’s obviously very
dangerous. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Syd. Hatch sure made a
great choice when he picked you!”

• • •

After getting instructions from Soup, Syd
made her way to Jane Forbeson’s office and was ushered in
immediately by the Administrative Assistant in the outer office.
Jane stood behind her large desk as Syd entered the seat of Triple
Eye power. Syd was struck by her overwhelming beauty.

Before Syd could say anything, Jane strode
from behind her desk and hugged her. “Thanks for stopping in to see
me, Syd! I can call you Syd, can’t I?”

“Of course, Jane. I hope I’m not screwing up
all of your protocols, but I have Soup doing some things for me,”
replied Syd as she broke the embrace.

“Soup? You got him to do something for you?”
laughed Jane. “I have to fill out Work Orders in triplicate and get
in line!”

“I’m trying to find out who shot Hatch. I
have a lead, so I have to leave immediately. I just thought I
should meet you while I was on your turf.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep doing your job, and pray for
Hatch,” Syd said softly. “I’ll call you if something comes up that
you can expedite for me. For now, goodbye.”

“Take care, Syd!” Jane whispered as Syd left
her office.

• • •

When Syd entered the reception area to
Marty’s office, the secretary looked up and became flustered.

“Mr. Winsocki is in a meeting,” she
stuttered.

“I know,” said Syd as she marched past her
into Marty’s office.

She went to the door that led to Marty’s
private apartment and rapped on it.

“Sara! Get your friggin’ clothes on! We
have to leave—
now
!”

• • •

The GS-V touched down in Miami at 1:03 P.M.
Sara and Syd had lunch on the plane during the flight. Syd had
explained her plans to Sara, and Sara had liked them. Syd called
the hospital from the plane. No change.

Packy was waiting for them with his Lincoln
Town car and took them to Syd’s new condo. Syd went to her bedroom
and opened a dresser drawer. In the back, under her underwear, was
a teak box. She removed it and took it to her bed and opened it. It
contained a leather holster with her well-used Beretta 9mm. A flap
of Velcro held a silencer snugly on the holster. Four fully-loaded
ammo clips were also in the box.

“Nice weapon,” remarked Sara as she took the
gun out of its holster and looked it over. “Good for hunting
assholes!”

Sara’s gun was still in her large
handbag.

Syd stripped off her clothes and pulled on a
pair of black pantyhose. She put on a black bra and then a black
body shirt. Finally, she put on her black leather miniskirt and a
pair of low-heeled black shoes. She changed her earrings to a pair
of black plastic loops. The finishing touch was her dark
sunglasses.

“Viola!
” she
said. “Dr. Z. is ready for work! How do I look?”

Sara laughed, “That’s similar to my hooker
outfit! All legs and tits!”

“That’s how anyone will describe me if they
happen to see me, and are asked later to describe what I look like.
It’s almost like being invisible.”

Syd took her holstered gun and the ammo clips
and put them in a large, black leather bag with a shoulder strap.
Then she emptied her purse into it, adjusting the gun to the top of
the stuff.

“Now all I need is the lock pick gun I asked
Packy to bring,” said Syd. “Let’s go find a Russian hit man!”

• • •

Packy had no trouble finding the motel. It
was a fairly nice one on the beach, and had housekeeping suites for
weekly or monthly rental rates. The room Vlastok had rented was one
of those facing the ocean. They watched for an hour, and no one of
Vlastok’s description came or went.

“OK, Sara, I’m going to go take a look. He
may be gone already. I’ve got my silent pager on my belt. Here’s
Hatch’s watch. I’ve programmed the system to page me when the SOS
button is pushed. This one here,” instructed Syd. “Packy, you watch
from here. Sara will go around to the beach side. Call her pager if
you see anything. She’ll warn me. Let’s go, Sara.”

Crystal Beach Motel, Miami, Florida

Monday, September 3, 2001

3:30 P.M.

Sara wore shorts, sandals, and a tight green
tee shirt. The strap of her bag was over her right shoulder so her
weapon was quickly accessible. From her post on a wooden bench, she
looked at her watch through her sunglasses. If she did not hear
from Syd—or see her come out of the building—in 30 minutes, she and
Packy would go in and find her.

Syd entered the motel and took the
stairs to the second floor without being seen. At least,
she
had not seen anyone yet. At the
top of the stairs, she hesitated and looked down the long hallway
and decided that room 240 was about four doors down on the left.
She reached into her purse and removed her Beretta and screwed the
silencer on it, then slipped it back into the bag. Then she put on
a pair of latex gloves and walked down the hall to room 240. She
put her ear to the door, but could not hear anything. Not
conclusive, one way or another.

OK. Here goes! I hope I’m doing the right
friggin’ thing! Maybe I should have had Sara come with me and watch
my back! Oh, well. Too late, now!

She tried the door and it was locked, of
course. She took out her lock pick gun and inserted it into the
lock. In a few seconds the door was unlocked. She put away the pick
gun and took out her pistol after looking up and down the hall
again. Now was the moment of truth. If the chain was latched when
she opened the door, what should she do? That would mean that he
was in there—or somebody was. With her left hand, she slowly turned
the knob and opened the door a crack. The chain was not engaged.
That was good news!