FATAL eMPULSE Page 9

  The colonel met her gaze and held it. “Will you trust me when I say you do not need to know right now? He is one of the good guys. It just may be hard to prove right now because of those who’d like nothing better than to put him down. Gerrit—and the group he works with—have been forced to live in the shadows because certain people with immense power want him dead.”

  “Why? Who could he have ticked off so bad that they would do this?”

  Jack looked at her intensely. “We’re trying to find that out, Shakeela. I believe Martin is connected to these people, individuals who are not tied to one country, one continent. People wielding a lot of influence to gain their objectives on an international level.”

  “And what is their objective?”

  “Before I try to answer that,” he said, “let me just add this. We don’t have a clue how big this organization might be. It might be a small fanatical contingent inside a larger, more reasonable organization. They might use this larger organization or movement to conceal their true agenda.”

  “Which is what? Money? Power?”

  “It is what money and power can get them—a new world order. A one-world collective to manage the entire globe.”

  She started to laugh but caught herself. He seemed serious. “I’m sorry, Jack, but you’re asking me to buy into a worldwide conspiracy theory shared by a bunch of kooks who think the world is about to end. The coming apocalypse.”

  Jack just smiled. “You and I know a lot about the world’s balance of power. Take Iran for example. What if that country had the capability to unleash a nuclear holocaust against Israel? What if Israel held off from surgically removing that threat because another country like the U.S. pressured them to wait?”

  “That’s already happening,” she said.

  “My point exactly. And say Iran’s fanatical leadership unleashes an attack on Israel. Can you imagine the consequences?”

  Shakeela did not answer.

  “We’ve known since the midsixties that Israeli leaders created the term The Samson Option to describe their strategy of massive nuclear retaliation against any nation that might threaten their existence. Among those include Russia, China, and any other country that has supplied weapons to Israel’s enemies. Can you imagine a more apocalyptic event than a nuclear holocaust that began in the Middle East and continued across the globe? Russia, U.S., China and other world powers drawn into a seismic event of cosmic proportions.”

  “I’m not saying that such an event is not possible,” Shakeela said. “But a world conspiracy to create a superpower, a one-world government? Come on! They can’t even get members of the United Nations to work together. How are they going to get nations to submit to one government and give up their sovereign powers? It will never happen.”

  Jack shrugged. “Maybe. Then again, there are many worldwide religions that believe in a coming world conflict that will put Israel and the Middle East center stage. It’s not for me to say, Shakeela. I only follow the evidence. I do believe that there are those—like Stuart Martin—who believe that the powers of this world can be somehow blended together, coerced, if you will, into one global effort.”

  “If they do,” she said, “then it’s scary that they might be working with people like Atash Hassan. They’re stupid to believe they can control such a man.”

  “My only job—working with Gerrit and others—is to make sure this doesn’t happen.”

  She pulled out a pad of paper from her purse and scribbled down details. “Here’s my cell number and e-mail I use undercover. You can contact me at any time. I think we’d better stay in touch just in case our cases intersect.”

  He took the note and shoved it into his pocket, then glanced around one more time. “They are tied together. I just don’t know how. Stay safe, Shakeela.”

  She nodded. “You, too, Colonel. I’m catching a red-eye to Eastern Europe within the hour.”

  “Have a safe trip.” He started to turn way, but she placed her hand on his arm.

  “Tell Gerrit hello for me, would you? Tell him Doset daram!”

  “What does that mean?”

  She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “He’ll know.”

  Jack got into the car and watched Shakeela until she disappeared inside. He wondered if their paths might ever meet again. And he wondered what had happened between Gerrit and Shakeela that made her blush. He was sure it had nothing to do with politics or war.

  Jack smiled to himself. Just when he was sure Gerrit held no more surprises, another one always popped up. He wondered how many more secrets that man kept hidden away. Sooner or later, most secrets see the light of day. He would just have to wait and see.

  Chapter 17

  February 23

  Miami, Florida

  Tropical humidity kept Gerrit’s clothes from getting completely dry. It had been several hours since they took the plunge off the top of their hotel. He no longer felt like a sponge, but he still felt uncomfortable. Alena’s clothes seemed to have dried out just fine, and her hair regained some of its bounce. After fleeing the hotel, they had slipped into a bar about five blocks away to hide. So far, they’d steered clear of any cops or killers.

  He imagined the hotel had been turned into some kind of law-enforcement circus by now. After all, he’d left two dead guys in his room, and the third man he must have nailed in the legs. The guy may have limped away, leaving a blood trail and more questions for the cops to figure out. Hotel guests would give investigators an earful, but eyewitnesses were notoriously inaccurate. That would only add to the confusion.

  It was getting close to 2:00 a.m. and the bartender kept looking their way. He probably wanted to close up early, even though the sign indicated the bar didn’t close until 5:00. They’d better move on.

  He leaned closer to Alena. “We can’t use any of our credit cards. I have just enough cash to get us a room at one of the nearby dives.”

  She pulled out her wallet and thumbed through her bills. “I’ve got enough to get us out of here and into a nice hotel. Let’s grab a cab.”

  “Good idea. Before the cops have time to start circulating a composite of our mugs.”

  She glanced at her glass. “Mugs? Like what we get coffee in?”

  He patted his face, then hers. “It’s slang for our faces.”

  “Then why don’t they just say that?”

  He just shook his head and left money on bar. “Let’s go.”

  His shoes still sloshed and squeaked from the water as he left the lounge. Outside, they moved toward a cab parked a block away. They reached it just as a patrol car turned the corner. Sliding into the backseat and eyeing the approaching police unit, Gerrit tapped on the dividing glass and gave the driver the name of a hotel in Fort Lauderdale he once stayed at. “Me and my girl want to take the scenic route. Don’t mind paying extra.”

  The cabbie tipped his head and started the engine, then rolled up his window and turned on the air-conditioner. As the car pulled away, Gerrit looked over his shoulder and saw the same patrol unit make a U-turn and begin following them. They went about a block and circled around until they were northbound along the water.

  Gerrit put his arm around Alena and whispered, “The cop car is following us.”

  She nodded. “I saw it. Not much we can do right now.”

  They were about to pass right in front of the hotel where Devon had stayed. Emergency lights flashed, and he heard a short beep of the siren. The cabbie groaned and pulled over, stopping right across the street from where they’d met Gloria, the receptionist. Several police cars, and at least one unmarked, were parked in front of the hotel.

  “What is this? A police convention?” he muttered under his breath. Alena took his hand and gently squeezed.

  The cabbie rolled down the window. A floodlight illuminated the back of the car, blinding Gerrit from seeing which side the officer might approach.

  He looked down to make sure his ankle holster could not be seen from outside the car and that h
is pants leg didn’t bulge out where the weapon was holstered. Alena snapped her purse closed.

  Footsteps approached them. A moment later an officer appeared at the driver’s door. “Just wanted to let you know your right brake light is out. May wanna get that fixed.”

  The cabbie relaxed. “Thank you, Officer. I’ll take care of that tonight.” He pointed across the street. “You have a lot of officers over at the hotel. Everything all right?”

  The officer hitched his gun belt and turned to look across the street. “Some gal working the front counter got shot. Looks like a robbery, but the shooter didn’t take much.”

  “Man oh man,” the driver said. “Maybe I oughta pack it up for the night. Heard a bunch of sirens coming from all directions a few hours ago. Because of this shooting?”

  “Nah. A hotel a few blocks away. Looks like some gang members must have gotten into it. Bullets flew everywhere. Just a bunch of blood left behind when patrol rolled up. Whoever got shot cleared out before the police arrived.”

  Gerrit looked at Alena and shook his head. The officer tapped on the roof of the cab. “You take care, now. Drive careful…and get that light fixed, ya hear?” The officer leaned down and peered into the backseat, closely studying them.

  Gerrit could feel Alena tense up.

  “Thanks again, Officer.” The cabbie sighed with relief as he started the engine, and then yelling erupted outside.

  A police public-address speaker squawked. “Driver. Turn the engine off, and toss the key out the window with your left hand. Passengers. Raise your hands.” The cop must have had a change of heart.

  Gerrit glanced at the rearview mirror and saw police flooding the car with lights.

  “Sweet mother.” The cabby slowly pulled the keys out the window, dropped them to the pavement, and raised his hands. “What did you guys get me into?”

  Alena looked at Gerrit. He just shrugged and slowly lifted his hands. She followed his actions, waiting to see what happened.

  One by one, the officer ordered them out of the car. Once Gerrit was on the ground and proned out, another officer came out of the blinding light, cuffed them, and began to search. The moment the cop felt Gerrit’s weapon, he yelled out, “Gun.” He slipped the gun out, just as another officer yelled, “Gun.” They must have found Alena’s weapon, too.

  Once they thoroughly searched them, officers helped Gerrit and Alena to their feet, walked them backward, separating them in the backseat of two patrol cars.

  From this position, Gerrit could see additional officers searching the car and conferring with others. Without his weapon and confined to this car, Gerrit felt it was only a matter of time before Devon or one of his men took him out. He had to figure a way of getting free. Soon.

  An unmarked vehicle arrived with emergency lights flashing and tires squealing. The driver jumped out and went over to speak with the arresting officer for a moment. They both looked in Gerrit’s direction. They had a heated discussion, arms waving, voices raised. Then the driver got back in the unmarked and sped away.

  The primary officer swore under his breath as he approached. The officer yanked the rear door open and gestured toward Gerrit to get out. Once out of the car, he felt the cuffs unlock, his arms free.

  “Sorry for the detention, sir,” the officer said through clenched teeth. “A case of mistaken identity. Dispatch advised we had the wrong people. I apologize.” Handing Gerrit’s weapon back, the officer’s red face told Gerrit the man was lying through his teeth. This was the last thing the officer wanted to do.

  Slipping his weapon into his ankle holster, Gerrit watched other officers uncuff and release Alena and the cabbie. Something really weird was going on. After all this, the police were letting them go, returning their weapons, and not asking to see any identification or concealed-carry permits. Either they had just been visited by the Tooth Fairy, or he and Alena were about to be set up. Maybe ambushed as they left?

  He decided to play along. “Hey, mistakes happen, Officer. You are just doing your job.” He studied the area, looking for anything that might give him a clue as to what had just happened. The cops must know the similarity between them and the suspects in the shooting a few blocks over. And yet, they were being released.

  Gerrit and Alena returned to the cab and got inside. As they drove away, Gerrit pulled out his weapon and looked around for any threat. Nothing. He gave the cabbie directions. Looking back, he saw the police milling around.

  Gerrit tried to figure out why they’d been released. Even if they were not tied to the shootings, he and Alena did not have any identification that would justify their carrying weapons. But yet the officers had freed them and handed back their weapons without comment.

  This was beyond bizarre.

  Chapter 18

  February 24

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida

  Gerrit rose from the chair and pulled the curtains back, peering out at the Atlantic Ocean just beyond a highway and a white sandy beach in front of their hotel. Shafts of light spread across the ocean as dawn began to awaken the day.

  He looked back toward the bed and saw a mound of blankets. Alena lay sleeping somewhere under all that bedding. Gerrit kept his cell phone on all night, but Willy never called. He must pick up a cord to recharge his cell phone, estimating he had three hours and twenty-three minutes of life left on the battery.

  After checking in at the hotel last night, they walked a short distance away to a nice Italian restaurant. No one seemed to have followed, and he really enjoyed spending a quiet dinner with Alena. They talked about the evening’s events but did not come up with any answers. Instead, they talked a lot about their past, and a little about what the future might hold. Each of them knew how uncertain the world might be at any moment, and they appreciated this brief escape from the struggle. Gerrit almost relaxed.

  And now another day had begun. He started to wake her and then changed his mind. Let her rest. No telling what might lie ahead once Willie called. He wrote her a note and left it near the bedside before leaving.

  Alena listened as Gerrit quietly closed the door behind him. She had been pretending to be asleep as he moved around the room. Stretching out in the bed, she turned and curled up, facing the window. She saw him cross the highway, heading for the beach.

  Gallantly, he slept in the chair last night even after she offered him a part of the bed. “Just stay on your side and I won’t have to hurt you,” she told him, playfully. For some reason, she felt uneasy, her feelings for Gerrit making this moment of indecision awkward.

  Gerrit threw his hands up. “That settles it. I’m sleeping in the chair. Don’t want a Mossad agent beating me to death because I rolled over in my sleep.” His decision had deeply touched her and, in a way, had made sleeping in the same room bearable. She was still trying to figure out her own feelings about their relationship, and having him in proximity—like that—added a level of temptation she would find hard to resist.

  At times, Gerrit was a hard man to understand. Moody. Quiet. Focused. But other times, it was like they shared the same thoughts, the same feelings, like at dinner last night. In those moments, he seemed very close. Intimate. And then that moment faded and a barrier rose. Gerrit closed himself off, creating a buffer between them. During those moments, they grew testy and irritated with each other. She became upset that he had withdrawn once again. He seemed to bristle as if he felt she could not understand.

  This morning, she snuggled under the covers, waiting for him to return. She just wanted to enjoy this brief respite from the war. If Gerrit was half as smart as she knew he was, soon he would be coming through that door with a freshly brewed cup of coffee. For the moment, everything seemed perfect.

  After crossing the highway, Gerrit walked on the white sand beyond the sidewalk. Seagulls squawked from the shoreline, fighting over dinner that had washed up on shore. Two runners—a man and woman—made their way along the edge of the water, using the hardened wet sand to gain traction on their run
.

  He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with ocean air, and looked for some place to buy coffee. He saw a vendor close to the highway and returned to the sidewalk to make better time. He almost reached the stand when his cell phone rang.

  “Yeah?”

  “Beck Malloy here. How you guys doing?”

  “Still kicking, but we need a set of wheels and new identification papers. We’re walking around here like a couple of illegals.”

  Beck chuckled. “Maybe I ought to drop a dime to ICE to have you picked up. Save me a lot of headaches.”

  “Ouch. That hurts.”

  “I heard what happened last night at your hotel. But by the time the cops got there, everyone cleared out—including the two dead guys.”

  “That’s not all, Beck. The girl we spoke to yesterday afternoon at the hotel where Devon stayed…someone killed her. They’re saying it was a robbery. But—”

  “You think Devon or one of his people did it?”

  “That’s my guess. I think she was a loose end he took care of. She probably called Devon after we talked to her. Signed her death warrant with that call.”

  “I need to get you guys out of there.”

  “Oh, thanks for getting us out of that jam last night.”

  “What jam?”

  “The traffic stop when we— Wait a minute. You didn’t bail us out of the traffic stop?”

  “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Gerrit. What happened?”

  He gave Beck a replay of the stop. “If you didn’t—?”

  “You and Alena need to get out of there. Quick. I don’t like the sound of this.”

  Gerrit heard a click on the line. “Hey, I got another call coming in. Can you hold?” He transferred to the second caller.

  “Mr. G., I’ve been up all night working on your problem. That Devon is sloppy. Not only did he use that credit card at the hotel, he’s been dropping bar tabs all over Key West going back forever. I can tell you exactly which bar he likes the best, which restaurants are his favorites, and which outcall service he likes to use.”