COVERT WRITERS TAKEDOWN - Joe Bergeron (different ereaders TXT) 📗

to call the Dean and
tell him why I’m not around. Who’d you get to fix my
office window?”
“We have friends in Boston. B.C.’s in order as
far as your office is concerned, and I‘e already notified
your Dean. I’ll arrange for your exam papers to get
here.
Courtney didn’t question who Wirtham’s
‘friends’ were in Boston, or who would gather up his
students’ exam papers. He knew this man to be
someone with tremendous human resources available to
him, and the subsequent actions of those resources had
always worked in the analyst’s favor.
Gently placing his hand on the lower part of
her back, Courtney made eye contact and addressed
her.
“Kay, are you ready to leave?”
“Yes.”
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“Robert, one last thing - I’m going to need Tom
Griffin’s number. I’ll call you for it when we get to the
hotel.”
They took the elevator down, but got off in the
lobby instead of the garage.
She knew there must be a reason, but still had
to ask the question.
“Aren’t we taking the Jeep?”
He knew the question would be coming.
“Not until Eddie Dalger gets here and does a
sweep on it. We’ll grab a cab to the hotel and have
Robert arrange for the rest of the luggage to be
delivered.
At every point of egress from Yankee Echo
headquarters, and approximately fifty yards away from
each point of egress, stood men, each holding a highfrequency
Motorola portable radio. The one covering
the front entrance now toggled his to establish
communication.
“They’re walking out the front door.”
The radioed response was brief.
“Follow them.”
Saturday, May 20, 12:33 p.m.
George Tollman slammed his fist on his
mahogany desk.
“HE WHAT? I’LL KILL THAT FAT SHIT!”
“I’m afraid, my good friend, that has already
been surmised by our recent Managing Editor. He was
not the complete fool we thought.”
Were the Vice President of Cuba not missing
two million American dollars, he would almost have
admired Bellcamp’s initiative.
“Do you have anyone looking for him?”
“My two best men are in your country as we
speak. 99
They will be going back to his house tonight.
They will complete a thorough investigation.”
“They’d better be good - this is a loose end I
won’t tolerate - damn!”
“The Secretary thought of his other property
now in Cuba.
“Where’s McKenzie?”
“He was brought to my villa, blindfolded of
course. He is now in an upstairs room with no
windows.”
“What have you told him?”
“He has been told he is being held for a
monetary ransom by the Revolutionists, Las
Quienientos.”
“Keep him in that room, feed him and make
sure he stays healthy.”
“When should I have him speak with his
daughter?”
“Not until I tell you. She just left JGM Exports
with Michael Courtney. They’re being followed. I’ll call
you when I find out where they’re staying.”
“Very well, my friend.”
Forsaking closing remarks, the former Marine
Corps Captain hung up his phone. His mind continued
to analyze the process he’d use to destroy a Presidential
plan, and in so doing, receive a purse of thirty million
dollars. He turned his thoughts to his associate, hoping
he’d taken him seriously when he explained Courtney’s
capability as a foe.
The National Security Agency feeds interpreted
covert information derived from sophisticated electronic
instrumentation in a network of spy satellites and
planes, and from other electronic instrumentation
placed around the world, directly to The Central
Intelligence Agency, The Defense Mapping Agency, and
to the Intelligence Desks of the Army, Navy, Air Force,
and Marine Corps.
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All this data will eventually find its way to The
Chairman of The Joint Chiefs of Staff, The Secretary of
Defense, and finally, in management briefs, to the
President of The United States.
One of NSA’s employees, a curator of much of
this information, and working on this Saturday
morning, was studying a note transmitted to him from
a cellular fax machine in a Black Ford Sedan.
Jeep has been wired.
Transmitting on 6
This man had seen and reviewed hundreds of
clandestine messages at jobs in both The Central
Intelligence Agency as well as The National Security
Agency.
But this particular note was part of a chain,
another link that would earn him the payoff he’d
always known was available to government officials in
positions of authority and trust. Two million dollars to
keep three amateurs under surveillance.
Tollman had said it could be a difficult
assignment, and had also told him not to underestimate
the metaphysician.
Underestimation of Michael Courtney was also
mentioned in the NSA brief on him.
Walking to the document shredding room, he
thought to himself, ‘What the hell is the big deal about
this guy? He’s a philosophy teacher, he doesn’t know
the first thing about undercover operations.’
The memo properly disposed, he returned to
the office to await a radioed call. It would tell him the
destination of two people now in a Washington Yellow
Cab, and being followed by one man with a portable
Motorola radio in a black Ford sedan.
101
Courtney handed the cab driver a one hundred
dollar bill.
“I want you to do me a favor.”
The cabbie didn’t blink. This had happened
before, and he was quite comfortable with it. Nothing
needed to be said, just take the Benjamin, and do what
he was about to be told.
“Bring us to the Hyatt Regency, and help us
carry our bags inside. The lady and I will go to the bar.
You go to the restroom, and stay there for five minutes.
When you come out, put he bags back in your cab, take
them over to the Marriott, and leave them at the front
desk. Tell the clerk they should be delivered to…”
He looked at Kay, she understood and finished
his sentence for him.
“The McKenzie suite.”
Courtney continued.
“Will the hundred cover it?”
“Hell Boss, I’ll tell them for my grandmother
for a hundred. Yeah, I got it.”
The ride to the Hyatt’s main entrance took
fourteen minutes.
The black Ford pulling into a Hyatt parking
space was now perpendicular to, and two hundred feet
away from, the Yellow Chevrolet.
He spoke into his hand-held radio.
“They’re at The Hyatt Regency.”
The response was instantaneous.
“Stay with them.”
The NSA counterpart who’d received the
communication wrote a hotel name on a yellow legal
pad.
Their luggage deposited just inside the Hyatt‘s
lobby, it now rested behind three green Yucca trees in
separate royal blue floor planters.
Michael and Kay walked toward the hotel’s
Embassy Lounge while a one-hundred dollar wealthier
D.C cab driver headed for the men’s restroom.
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He knew the question was coming.
“OK, why are we here?”
As usual, his response had been well thought
out.
“They don’t know where we’re staying. If they
don’t have a base in Washington, I would assume that
they at least have people here watching us. They’re
smart, and they’ve demonstrated themselves as pros, so
we can’t underestimate them.”
“But won’t they find where we’re staying
eventually?”
“I’m sure they will, but we’ll make them
commit some errors first. I want them to start
questioning themselves.”
‘So, what do we do now, Professor Courtney?”
“You go into the lounge and order us
something. I’m going up to the front desk for a minute.”
Reviewing the lobby as he slowly walked, he
noticed eleven people. A mother was disciplining her
son for chasing his younger sister around a tall rubber
plant. Two business men were checking either in, or
out. A thirty-fiveish looking woman with long, straight
auburn hair sat in a lounge chair glancing through a
copy of WOMANS DAY magazine. An elderly couple had
just come through the front entrance accompanied by a
Bell Hop. A teenage boy stood against a pillar looking
entirely bored; and a man about forty was approaching
him. They passed within four feet of one another, the
well-dressed, brown haired stranger entering the
Embassy Lounge.
Once at the desk, Courtney requested a
Washington D.C. street map. Receiving a combination
map and sightseeing guide, he unfolded it, and stood so
his peripheral vision caught sight of the brown-haired
stranger, now standing in the doorway of the lounge.
Courtney additionally noticed a cabby who had exited a
washroom, and was picking up some luggage that had
been sitting next some Yucca trees.
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His thoughts, and his sight line, returned to
the brown-haired stranger.
‘Why didn’t stay in there? Why’s he standing
next to the door?’
Finishing what appeared to be a serious
perusal of his street directory, he began moving toward
the Embassy’s entrance.
Courtney approached the entrance to the Hyatt
lounge.
The stranger had entered the lounge once
again, and was now pulling a high-backed, swiveling
yellow oak bar stool away from the brass foot rail near
its base.
Kay was seated at a round, dark brown oak
table in an overstuffed chair, legs crossed.
He sat down in a similar one directly across
from her, his back to the stranger. He had two other
chairs he could have chosen at the same table.
“ I got us a sparkling water, Michael.”
She leaned into the table between them.
“How long are we going to stay here?”
His answer was appropriate for the moment.
“I guess until I can figure out how to get us out
of here without them seeing us go - if they’re even
watching us at all.”
She said the first thing that came to mind.
“Do you want to split up?”
He said the only possible thing that could have
come to his mind.
“No way.”
She appreciated the two words.
One-half hour later, he decided to test the
stranger still sitting at the bar, apparently engrossed in
the Yankee, Red Sox game on the television near his
end.
“Kay - there’s a guy down the end of the bar.”
She leaned her head slight to the left to see
past Courtney’s.
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“Dark brown hair?”
“Yeah, he’s been here as long as we have - came
in just behind us. I’m going back to the front desk, you
watch him; I want to know what he does when I leave.”
It seemed like a simple enough assignment.
“OK.”
Courtney backed his chair out, rose, and
reached for his wallet in his left rear pocket. As he
exited the lounge, he pulled a credit card from its
contents. It looked like a logical procedure as he once
again proceeded to the registration desk. It was close to
3:00 p.m., normal check-in time. At the desk, he
registered a room with a King-sized bed for May 29th, a
reservation that could easily be canceled later. The
transaction complete, he returned to the lounge.
Returning to their table, she gave him her
report before he asked for it, but had assumed his
previous position across from her.
“He came to the door and watched you all the
time you were gone.”
His instincts had told that was exactly what
was going to happen.
“Then he’s probably one of them.”
Courtney had formed a plan for an occurrence
during the time he and Kay had already spent in the
Hyatt’s oak-furnished lobby lounge. He knew he would
lose some or all of the effectiveness of it if he told her
what it was. So he simply decided to put it into action.
“Kay, we’re going to have a loud argument..”
This time the tilt of her head was slightly to
the right, eyes somewhat squinting.
“What!?”
“DON’T ASK ME THAT, YOU’RE SUCH A
PAIN IN THE ASS!”
“Michael, what the…”
He was on his feet now, interrupting her.
105
“IS THAT THE ONLY WORD YOU HAVE IN
YOUR VOCABULARY! WHEN THE HELL ARE YOU
GOING TO BE ABLE TO THINK FOR YOURSELF!”
Besides the dark haired stranger, there were
about two dozen other people in the lounge. The room
was large enough to accommodate one hundred, an
presently small