Hit For Hire Page 3

  “Not really,” he said. “I like those cream-filled long johns, and there were only three of them. I can’t help it if I’m still hungry.”

  Moose grinned and ruffled the boy’s hair. “You’re always hungry,” he said. “Truth be told, I could stand an early lunch, myself. What do you say we all head out to the Sagebrush and put down a steak?”

  Sarah looked at Noah, who nodded. “Sounds good,” he said. “Might be the last chance we get for a while.”

  Neil got to his feet quickly. “Lacey’s over at the trailer, she’s off today. Let me get her and we can all ride out in the Hummer.”

  “Uh-uh, no way,” Sarah said. “I’ve seen how you drive. We’ll just meet you out there.”

  Moose chuckled and announced that he would take his own car, so Noah and Sarah went out to get into the Corvette. Noah and Moose started their cars up and pulled over by the trailer to wait for Neil and Lacey. They came out a moment later and got into Lacey’s vintage Mustang, and then all three vehicles headed for the Sagebrush Saloon.

  The Sagebrush was their favorite restaurant, just a few miles away from Noah’s place, and sort of in the middle of nowhere. It was part restaurant and part tavern, the sort of roadhouse that has been made famous in novels and movies over the years. They had started frequenting it not long after their team was formed a year earlier, and Moose’s girlfriend Elaine worked there. She was on duty when they walked in and the hostess smiled as she led them to one of Elaine’s tables.

  “Hey, gang,” Elaine said as she put glasses of water in front of each of them. “Glad you came by. Dad tells me you’re getting ready to go out on a business trip, that right?” Elaine was the daughter of Donald Jefferson and actually worked part-time for E & E, herself, so she was cleared for general information about the organization and its missions.

  “Yep,” Moose said. “Might be a long one, so I suggested we come out for lunch.”

  “We don’t leave 'til Thursday,” Sarah said. “Just seemed like a good time to come grab a bite to eat.”

  Since they all were there fairly often, it didn’t take long for them to decide on what to order. Their mealtime chatter was casual and friendly, with Lacey and Neil spending a lot of the time talking between themselves. Lacey was barely an inch shorter than Neil’s six-foot-five, and the two of them had hit it off the first time they met. Noah and the others had gotten accustomed to the way they mooned over each other, and had learned to ignore them.

  When they had finished eating, they headed back to Noah’s house and then started working on their individual agendas. Neil dropped Lacey off at the trailer, then he and Moose headed for the armory. Noah and Sarah sat down in their living room and began going over the files on IAR and Pierre Broussard.

  IAR had only come on the scene a few years previously, and while the name wasn’t well known publicly, most government agencies were fully aware of it. In the past five years, just about every major terrorist action, even those without Islamic influences, had some kind of tie back to IAR. In many cases it was only money, but there was mounting evidence that weapons, explosives and even chemical weapons were being provided. That seemed to explain the fact that many of the smaller terror cells, who simply didn’t have the people or assets necessary to make some of the explosive or chemical devices they had been using, were getting their hands on them.

  The file on Broussard was actually pretty small. Until this latest intelligence had come to light, he had been considered a fairly reputable arms dealer and negotiator. Despite the fact that he had made more than a billion dollars trading in weapons, there had been no evidence anywhere that he was dealing illegally, or working with any known terrorist groups.

  Now, it appeared that he had been funneling many such transactions through IAR, keeping them completely off of most government radars. By running them through intermediaries like Wyndham, he avoided having any contact with organizations that might have exposed him to risk.

  The same was true of his financial dealings. It was apparent that there were many accounts scattered throughout several countries that could be tapped for resources as needed, including right near his home in England. There was little doubt that Wyndham had left his meeting with Broussard carrying a large amount of cash, and yet there were no financial records connected to Broussard showing any kind of transfers or withdrawals. Neither MI6 nor CIA had been able to determine how Broussard managed to have large amounts of currency in his possession, but it was clear that he had found a way.

  “This guy’s some kind of magician,” Sarah said. “None of the agencies have any idea how he’s getting his hands on so much hard currency.”

  “By wearing it,” Noah said. “He’s got an entourage of more than a dozen people that travels everywhere with him, and he’s in a different country almost every day. All he’s got to do is have his people gather up all the national currency they can in each location, and then they can just strap it to themselves when they get off the plane back in London. Slip on some big overcoats and climb into a car, then walk into his house. It’s that simple. Nobody watching would see a thing.”

  Sarah looked hard at him for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. “Have you ever been to a magic show where you couldn’t figure out how they did it?”

  Noah’s eyebrows scrunched downward. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Some things are just obvious to me.”

  The girl shook her head. “You’re just amazing, do you know that?”

  “Look at the list of people who have been seen going in and out of his house. We’ve got businesspeople from just about every industry, we’ve got lawyers and politicians from numerous countries, we’ve even got known intelligence agents from countries that are sympathetic to Islamic terrorism. How has this guy managed not to be outed long before this? According to this file, MI6 has been keeping tabs on him for the last three years. None of these visitors set off any alarm bells?”

  “Page 17. One of their analysts said that even the most legitimate arms dealer would have contact with such people from time to time. He’s even made reports to the government about being approached by intelligence agents, just the way he should. They didn’t figure it was anything to worry about, I guess.”

  Noah cocked his head to the right. “Too bad our CIA didn’t get to look those lists over. Those guys are so paranoid they would have automatically suspected him.”

  “Probably. The question is, is he actually the head of IAR, or is he just a front man for somebody else?”

  “That’s what I've got to figure out. By going in as Adrian, I’m sure they’re hoping I’ll get some sort of feeling about it, something I can prove or act on.”

  Sarah put down the folder she was reading through and looked at him. “Noah, this mission worries me. If Broussard or his people suspect for a moment that you’re not really Adrian, I doubt they’re going to let you walk out of whatever meeting you have with them alive.”

  “Then I’d better get my act down pat,” Noah said. “I don’t have any intention of letting them bring an end to my short career.”

  Sarah stared at him for almost a full minute before speaking again. “You’d better not,” she said softly.

  THREE

  Moose and Neil joined Sarah the next day as they continued studying the folders, while Noah went to Mission ID. A security guard in the building checked his ID and then directed him to an office where he met Gary Mitchell.

  “Camelot, right?” Mitchell asked. “Come on in and have a seat, I’m getting everything set up for you. Take that chair, and put on those headphones.”

  Noah sat where he was told to and slipped the headphones over his ears. A microphone on a boom extended from one of them and he adjusted it so that it was just to the right of his mouth. “I take it you’re the one who’s supposed to help me learn to sound like this guy?” he asked.

  Mitchell nodded. “Yep, I’m the acting coach for ID Development. Whenever you guys have to impersonate someone, they send you out
to me to give you some pointers on how to accomplish it. You have an advantage with this character in that almost nobody knows what he looks like, other than general things like build and such, and you’re a pretty close match in that regard. All we have to do is retrain your speaking and physical mannerisms so that you can impersonate him, in case you run into anyone who might’ve spoken with him in the past.” He tapped on a keyboard in front of him while staring at a computer monitor, then turned to Noah again. “Watch that monitor in front of you. What you’re going to be seeing and hearing is part of his interrogation. This guy was cocky and kept his cool, so there isn’t a lot of stress in his voice. If you can mimic his voice and speaking manner at all, you should be able to pull this off with no trouble. Ready?”

  Noah nodded, and a second later he heard the sounds through the headset as the video began to play.

  Interrogator: Tell me about your most recent target.

  Adrian: What do you want to know? I mean, the fellow is dead already, so it won’t do you a lot of good.

  Noah noticed instantly that Adrian spoke with a trace accent, something that sounded slightly Germanic, possibly Austrian. His w’s were very clearly enunciated, while his s’s seemed to have a slight sh sounded to them.

  In the video, he was unrestrained, sitting in a wingback chair. He had a habit of cocking his head slightly to one side when he spoke, and tended to use his hands quite a bit to emphasize points he was making.

  Interrogator: Just humor me, please. What was his name?

  Adrian: His name? His name was Alexander Lifshitz. He was the Israeli ambassador to Costa Rica, but he was creating problems for someone who wanted him eliminated.

  Interrogator: And who hired you to eliminate him?

  Adrian: Oh, now that would be the Brazilian government, in the person of their attaché for foreign affairs at their own embassy there. It seems he once knew another of my clients, who told him how to get word to me.

  Interrogator: So you agreed to assassinate the Israeli Ambassador so easily?

  Adrian: Of course. That’s my work, is it not?

  Interrogator: Yes, I suppose it was. Tell me, Adrian, did your conscience never bother you at all?

  Adrian: Conscience? Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that. Frankly, I don’t seem to have one. I am telling you things you want to know simply because I want something from you in return. Incidentally, would you like to know the name of the target I was going after when you interrupted me?

  Interrogator: I actually would.

  Adrian: (laughing) I was certain you might. Her name is Emily Carriker. And before you even ask, I was hired by the wife of her married lover. Some people, it seems, will pay anything to get what they want.

  Interrogator: An assassin of your stature takes such simple assignments? I would have thought you would concentrate yourself on those in the political world.

  Adrian: I usually do, I confess. However, I have never turned down anyone who was willing to meet my price.

  The playback suddenly ended and Mitchell looked at Noah. “Can you repeat that last line, just the way he said it?”

  Noah looked up at him. “I usually do, I confess. However, I have never turned down anyone who was willing to meet my price.” He mimicked the facial expressions and hand gestures that Adrian had used.

  Mitchell was watching his monitor and smiled, nodding his head. “That was actually incredibly close,” he said. “Let’s do some more.”

  The playback resumed and Noah studied Adrian’s responses to his interrogator for another ten minutes, after which Mitchell had him repeat the last line once again. Again the acting coach was pleased, and they continued these exercises throughout the morning.

  At shortly before noon, Mitchell called a break. “You’re an incredibly fast study, Camelot,” he said. “I think we need to move on to improvisation this afternoon. Come on, I’ll buy you lunch in our cafeteria.”

  Noah took off the headset and laid it on the table beside the chair, then followed Mitchell out of the office and down a hallway. The cafeteria turned out to be rather large, and the food choices were as good as anything at the Sagebrush Saloon. Noah opted for a grilled chicken breast with a baked potato and salad, while Mitchell chose roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy. The two of them carried their choices to a table and sat down together.

  “You know, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Mitchell said. “I’ve been told, for instance, that you have a mind like a computer. After your performance this morning, I think I tend to believe it. I’ve never seen anyone pick up the nuances of an individual’s speech patterns so quickly.”

  Noah shrugged. “When I was a kid, I had a friend who figured out that my brain isn’t wired like everybody else’s. She used to give me these little exercises to do, basically pattern recognition tricks. I learned to watch for recognizable patterns in just about everything, it makes it easier to pick up accents, remember phone numbers, all sorts of things.”

  “Yeah, I can see where it would. That would explain today. What about languages? Do you speak other languages?”

  “I’m fairly fluent in Spanish and French,” Noah said. “I studied both in high school and had the opportunity to work with Hispanic soldiers at times. While I was in the Army, there was a French girl who was attracted to me. She was a clerk on our base and we dated for a while. I got to practice my French a lot with her and she helped me perfect it to some degree. I picked up a little bit of several Arabic dialects while I was in the Middle East, but not enough to say that I actually speak the language.”

  Mitchell was nodding again. “Yeah, I suspected you might have. I don’t think you’d have too much trouble learning a language if you wanted to.”

  “You’re probably right,” Noah said. “Again, it’s really just a matter of finding the patterns. I think most languages have some words that are similar to those in other languages, and if I can spot an identifiable root, then I could probably pick up a lot of it pretty quickly. Maybe not fluency, but at least enough to get by.”

  Mitchell shook his head as if amazed. “Man, that’s incredible,” he said.

  “I don’t think so,” Noah replied. “I think it just boils down to the fact I got the right kind of training for it. That friend of mine who came up with it is an incredible genius—she works for a big Washington think tank, now. I was pretty lucky to have her in my life at that time.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so. Okay, let’s try something. We’re in a social setting, no real stress on either of us at the moment, so I’d like you to try speaking as Adrian. Can you do that?”

  Noah looked at him with one eyebrow raised slightly. “You want me to speak as he would? With his inflections, his mannerisms?”

  Mitchell stared at him for a moment and that a big smile broke across his face. “Wow, that was about perfect. You slid into character like you’d been doing it all your life.”

  “Well,” Noah said, still in character as Adrian, “you could say that I have been. I have always had to wear a mask, so to speak, in order to conceal the fact that I do not think as others do. To me, this is nothing but another mask that I must wear. As I come to understand it, it simply becomes another persona that I can turn on or off as needed.”

  Mitchell laughed. “You’ve got it, you’ve got it down pat. That slight accent of his, the slurring of the sibilants, it’s perfect. Come on, let’s finish eating and get back to the lab. I’m supposed to drill you through the rest of today and tomorrow, so we’ll just use up the time in practice. I don’t really think you need it, but orders are orders.”

  The two of them stopped talking and finished their meals, then headed back to Mitchell’s office. They spent the afternoon with Noah listening to other recordings of Adrian and practicing his impersonation. By the time they broke at four o’clock, Mitchell was convinced that Noah had the characterization down perfectly.

  “I think that’s enough for today,” he said. “Let’s start again tomorrow around nine, that be okay?”

/>   “I’ll be here,” Noah replied.

  The two men shook hands and Noah made his way back to the hallway and out to his car. He fired it up and started toward home, then took out his phone to call Sarah.

  “Hey, baby,” she said as she answered. “How’d it go?”

  “Pretty well, I think. My teacher says I’m the best pupil he’s ever had. What are you guys doing?”

  “We just finished up the file on Broussard,” she said. “If you’re done, we’ll stop and pick up again tomorrow with the IAR files.”

  “That sounds good,” Noah said. “I was thinking we should pack up some sandwiches and stuff and go out on the boat for a while. This might be the last chance we get before the weather turns cold, especially when we don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

  He heard Sarah asking the guys if they liked that idea, then she spoke to him again. “Elaine is off tonight,” she said. “You don’t mind if she and Lacey come along, do you?”

  “Of course not. We’ll be packing tomorrow night, so let’s just have some fun this evening.”

  “Holy cow, did I just hear Noah Wolf say he wanted to have fun? Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?”

  “Very funny. Call the girls and tell them to head that way, I should be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, babe. See you then, love you.”

  “See you then.” Noah ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket.

  FOUR

  Lacey had recently moved into the trailer that Neil rented from Noah, so she was already there when he got home. Elaine was on the way, and arrived only a few minutes later.

  Despite the fact that it was mid-fall, the sun was shining brightly and the air was warm. All of them were dressed in shorts and T-shirts as they carried the cooler full of sandwiches and soft drinks down to the boathouse. Noah started up the big Mercury engine and backed the boat carefully out of its slip, then gave it power as they moved out to open water.