SAFE HAVENS: Shadow Masters (A Sean Havens Black Ops Novel Book 1) (22 page)

Upon his return, he met with Jerry one evening at the Palmer House hotel bar in downtown Chicago. Jerry had found a small table in the back out of earshot of the patrons.

“Welcome back, world traveler. I thought you might like to try your first Scotch.”

Havens laughed. “You should have gotten me one when we first met. I have been partying with Saudis who were away from home. Not too Muslim when they are in a discotheque. I have had all the ‘Macs’ and ‘Mc’s,’ Johnny Walker Blue label, Green label, Black label, Red label, Pink label, whatever. They make it, I drank it.”

“Well good for you. This is a 25 year old Scotch in the “Mac” category. It is quite nice. Tell me what you think.”

Sean sipped it. “Good.” He took another gulp.

Jerry closed his eyes for a moment appreciating his protégé’s naiveté with a thirty-dollar glass of Scotch. “We’ll work on that. So, did you have a good time? Learn anything?”

“Yeah, where do I start? I saw a ton of things, did a ton of things, had a chance to do some weird stuff for your friend…” Sean looked to Jerry to see if he was on track and keeping his banter in check.

“How did you like working for Rick?”

“Good guy. Bit of an over-the-shoulder peeker to me. He kind of fits the profile of a spook.”

“Excuse me?” Jerry put down his scotch. “Rick is part of the Department of State. What makes you say that he is anything to the contrary?”

“Look, I don’t really care who he works for or who you say he works for. I just figured he thinks he’s James Bond or something. I could always spot him a mile away.”

“How so?”

“Well, he isn’t like you, but he would also pick a back table, do the back to the wall thing like cops do in movies. He walks down the street and crosses, then goes into shops and stuff and comes back out to go the other way.”

“Where did you see him walking, Sean?”

Sean, realizing he had opened a can of worms, thought of lying, but he trusted Jerry. He wanted Jerry to trust him too.

“I followed him.”

Jerry took in a deep breath. “Continue,” said Jerry as he sipped his scotch and signaled the server for another.

“Well, one day I took the train north and met with Rick in Paris. I left and he left, then I just decided to walk around town a bit. I saw him driving in a nice Alfa Romeo a few miles away from where we had met about two hours later. He parked and did some walking around and stuff. That’s when I saw him all zigzag-y and looking over his shoulder and stuff.”

“What kind of stuff.”

“Well first off, it was pretty warm out. He was, like, the only guy wearing a coat. He sat down on a bench, but when he sat I could see his jacket didn’t just have a regular drop. It had something inside like a book or a package that made it bend and stick out more than how a jacket is when you just sit. Plus, his left arm was kind of tight like it was holding the thing in place. He walked past some people and dropped his hand down over the coat pocket area like he was protecting it. He kinda dropped and opened his shoulder up and pivoted just a bit to avoid a bump. Didn’t seem real natural.”

“That’s very interesting, Sean. Anything else?”

Sean paused in thought. Jerry could sense Sean was deciding what to share if anything at all.

“Sean, before you say anything. I think you are a really bright kid. Rick thinks so too. We think you have some great potential. SGM Jones wants me to look out for you. So you have to also trust me a bit to help you. Anything you say is just between us. Understand?”

“Yeah.”

“So what is it that you are holding back? Don’t be embarrassed or think you are getting anyone in trouble.”

Sean took a drink of the Scotch. He grimaced through that swallow. “Did you hear anything about Nice?”

“Can you refresh me?”

“A bunch of my Arab friends were going to Nice for Carnival. I decided that I would go with. I mentioned it to Rick, who asked where I was staying. I told him a youth hostel. He gave me some money and told me to stay at a particular hotel and that I should tell my friends that I was staying with a friend. I told him that I had plenty of cash and there would be no need. I’d rather stay with my friends so I wouldn’t offend them and I would have more opportunity to practice my Arabic and the dialects. He thought I was too close to them.”

“So, anyway, we came back to the hostel that night and it was locked. We knocked on the door but no one came down to get us. It had closed, like, an hour or two early. We went around back to see if there was a back door. I was climbing up a fence and was pulled down. I looked up and it was a French cop. The other guys scattered. The cop was yelling at me, asking what I was doing and why I was with Arabs. You know, ‘cause the Arabs in France have to deal with the same prejudices as our blacks.”

“I am well aware. Please go on. So far it just seems like a misunderstanding.”

“Well that’s what I thought. But instead they drive me to a small police station. They ask for my passport, put me in a room, and this guy starts giving me the business—pushing me and slapping me and talking about Arabs and drugs and stuff.”

“I see.”

“So after a bit he lets up, but see, the thing is, he isn’t asking me anything. He keeps talking about drugs, but never even asked to check my pockets or have me strip and show that I have nothing.”

“Did you?”

“No, and neither did the guys I was with. One of the guys was this rich Saudi out sowing his oats. He was buying bottles of $120 booze for our table all night, but we were pretty sober. So, anyway, the guy leaves me in the room. It wasn’t a cell or anything. It had a window to a back parking lot. So, I look out the window and I see Rick’s Alfa in the parking lot. I get all excited because the cavalry was coming to get me out of that mess with the cops.”

Jerry raised his hand to signal Sean to pause.

“One, there are a lot of Alfa’s in France so I am curious how you knew it was Rick’s, but before you answer that, did you mention Rick at all to the police?”

“Why would it matter if I mentioned Rick? He’s State, right? State is my foreign advocate.” Havens gave a coy smartass smile.

“Touché. Did you mention it, though?”

“No, so that is why I thought it was so weird when I saw him sitting in the damn car. After a couple minutes he got out of the car and I couldn’t see him anymore. Then the cop came in and started beating on me again.”

“Perhaps he was not aware that you were even there? Have you considered that possibility?”

“Jerry, with all due respect, I don’t need anyone playing devil’s advocate with me. Do you really mean for me to completely avoid challenging the natural act of an American Embassy representative coming into a random-ass precinct in the south of France, when Rick is supposedly working from Paris, and yet there is an American who is being detained and that doesn’t come up in any conversation with him?”

“Maybe he was protecting you. Or maybe he was protecting himself. Have you considered this?”

“Jerry, I really like you, so please don’t play games with me. Rick shouldn’t have even been there. This wasn’t about protecting. This was about punishing.”

“Punishing for what?”

“For me not taking his advice and staying at the hostel. He had no right.”

“Hmmm. I see where you would feel that way. It sure could have been handled differently.”

“So you agree he was trying to punish me?”

“No, I agree with the fact that you have a right to be angry and you could have handled it differently.”

“But you don’t see it as a punishment? Are you serious?”

“No, Sean. I see it as part of your training. Your initial selection. Welcome. Now comes the hard stuff if you think you are up for it.”

“Wait. So that was all set up? You mean I can work for you?”

“First, you need to finish your school. Then you come to my school.”

Chapter 27

J
erry worked with Sean to pick the rest of his courses so they could be of value to his future profession. With the change to the new administration in the early ‘90’s, Jerry told Sean that he had two options after completing an initial four months of training. Plans had changed some.

“Sean, the administration is making cutbacks to field ops. President Clinton will be finalizing things shortly that have been set in motion. I know you wanted to come work for us along the Mediterranean, but Arabs are not our concern. We still have a need dealing with Russia and a need for Chinese work. Arabs are not a threat right now. I can get you a desk analyst’s job in Langley or I have another option. It would be rather unconventional.”

Deflated by the news of another obstacle in the way of realizing his dreams, Sean was all ears.
What does it matter anymore? Let’s hear who I’m going to be handed off to next.

“I have some friends who are leaving the Clandestine Service. They don’t want to stick around and see the changes or the cutbacks to their activities. They want to stay in the same line of work, but they will be contractors. This solves two problems. They are no longer on the payroll, and they are subject to less oversight.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“The non-official cover programs have some problems. Companies don’t want to get in trouble if a CIA-covered individual gets in a jam that could blowback to a host company. By the same token, a lot of NOCs end up having to do their covered job that pays a lot more than the government job and they still have to do their government job in between and during off hours.”

“The new program that they are putting together has the group going to work for a bunch of separate companies that would give them placement and access to do their work while providing them larger base salaries. The fact that these companies they will be going to work for are one hundred percent unwitting to their activities provides better insulation than they currently have at the Agency.”

“I think this could be a great opportunity for you to get some training and they will help you find your first job out of school. The market is tight and I suspect that many of your peers will be taking any job that comes around. You, however, can just let me know what could interest you commercially, I will run it by the group, and they will come up with something suitable. What do you think?”

“Actually it sounds kind of cool, but will I get to work overseas?”

“Once you are properly trained we will have tasks for you from time to time that will coincide with your job. The nice thing about this is you can also operate domestically. No oversight, no rules. You are like an international private investigator, but you don’t need a license. You also won’t have to worry about a clearance. At the level you will be working, you won’t need to know who the client is or what the end purpose is of your task. You will be an unwitting asset. This will also enhance your security. Some of these guys can’t go back to certain countries because of Aldrich Ames and other traitors who gave secrets to the Soviets, Israelis, and whoever else that we don’t know about.”

“So. . . will I still get to go to the Farm?”

“No Farm for you. You will go to the Barn.”

“What’s the Barn?

“You will know when it is time. Barns, the bay, and pond for you, son.”

“And what about Rick?”

“Rick is getting laid off. He is going to go work for a technology company. They gave him over a hundred thousand dollars to start.”

“Man, next time I see him, we are going to have words.”

“Your words should be thank you if you have the privilege of seeing him again. He was a big advocate for you.”

Havens took a moment to process this.

“So, is he legit for them or doing this group thingy that I am being invited to?”

“First of all you are not being invited. You had been recruited and are now selected. You could still wash out just like any other special operations selection process. I believe Rick’s new endeavor is legit, but one never knows in this business. Remember that.”

Months later Havens tried to check in with Jerry. The phone extension was disconnected. Havens mailed a note to the P.O. Box that he had been instructed to use previously. The mail was returned to sender. No forwarding address provided.

From that point on, Havens received only a Christmas card each holiday season. The postal locations were always different. Nothing was ever written below the card’s embossed holiday wishes. They were simply signed
—Jerry
.

Chapter 28

S
till sitting at the Havens’ kitchen table sucking down beers, Lars pulled his hand down his face. It was getting late. The day’s oil on his face felt grimy.

“So let me get this straight, Sean.” Lars breathed in deeply through his nose. He was feeling the drinks a bit. “You were working for a bunch of ex-spooks who were still working for the CIA but off the payroll?” Lars was shaking his head in disbelief at the concept. He downed the rest of his beer and got up to raid the refrigerator again.

“I assume so, but the beauty of it was I never knew. I could never really confirm it. That is how they designed it. I think we have a frozen pizza in the freezer. I can pop that in the oven if you want.”

“I want.”

“So what was that Barn shit all about? You wrestle in the hay and shoot cows?”

Havens knew Lars was eliciting more, but his defenses were down and he fully intended to share more. “Had to shoot a goat. Had to patch him up and keep him alive. They said it was my makeshift corpsman goat school. Guess there is really a school like that for medics. Maybe they were screwing with me.”

“Did the goat live?”

“For a while. I did a pretty good job bringing him back to health.”

“So how did it die?”

“I had to kill it.”

“More medical training?”

“No, I had to learn how to make it into a goat curry. I learned how to make a couple forms of bread in clay and brick ovens and I had to learn how to make tea in the custom of about five different countries. They would blindfold me, make me tea, and I would have to tell them what country it was from. Then I had to replicate it. That’s one of the reasons I don’t drink it now. Coffee’s my bag. Hate tea. All dozen or so ways I can cook it.”