Dark Star (13 page)

* * * * *

Gaspard Maximilian, better known as The
Rooster, stood on top of a small stool as his tailor adjusted the
length of his custom-made suit. He looked down at the man who’d
dared disturb him.

“So, what you’re telling me is that Akhmed,
the mechanic who did so many good jobs for us in Indonesia is
really the same American operative who has been hunting me? That
he’s a double agent?” he said.

“That would seem to be the case, sir.”

“And where did you get this information and
why are you only finding out about it now?”

“Our contact within the organization has only
just now gotten the information to us, sir.”

“Hmmm,” the Rooster said as the turned on the
bench as the tailor directed. “That’s interesting. That’s the
second time our friend has gotten information to us almost too late
for us to do anything about it.”

“Well, it’s not too late sir, we only heard
from Akhmed last week telling us that he has the girl.”

“But late enough that if we hadn’t been
paying attention we might have been in serious trouble. I think it
would be in our best interest to check on our friend again. While
it’s good to have someone inside the Department on our side, I’m
starting to believe he’s not what he seems.”

The other man nodded, shifting his weight
from foot to foot in a nervous movement. “What do you want us to do
with him?”

“Do I really need to answer that
question?”

“Well it could’ve been an honest
mistake.”

“I should think that everyone should know by
now that I don’t tolerate mistakes. Honest or otherwise. Take care
of him.”

“And the other? Akhmed?”

The Rooster gazed out the panoramic window of
his luxurious loft. The New York City skyline had always been one
of his favorites. Marred now, of course, by the loss of The Towers,
but that had been such a profitable enterprise he almost didn’t
miss them. The tailor, a bundle of nervous energy, scurried about,
annoying him, but he forced himself to calmness. Yelling at the man
only made him fidget worse, and as he was the most talented tailor
on the East Coast he simply tolerated him.

“Have arrangements been made to bring him
down to the compound?”

“Yes, we sent the message a few days
ago.”

“Then we’ll do nothing about it. He’ll come
down to Brazil just as we planned.”

The other man nodded. “Is there anything
else, sir?”

“No. You may leave.” The Rooster stepped off
the bench and walked over to some samples the tailor had brought
with him. “You know, this really is a lovely charcoal gray.” He
rubbed the fine wool silk blend between his fingers studying the
way his name had been woven into the pinstripe. “This must be a
mistake. I can’t imagine why you’d think I’d want something so
ostentatious. A man in position cannot be flashy or garish. ”

The tailor’s Adam’s apple, prominent in his
painfully thin neck, bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Of course
sir. Can’t imagine what I was thinking.”

“My initials will be sufficient.”

* * * * *

Tonya rolled over in bed so wonderfully
satiated that she wanted to purr. As they’d done for nearly the
entire month since they’d resumed their relationship, she and Nate
had spent most of the previous night making love. She reached over
to cuddle with him only to find nothing but empty space. Sitting
up, she looked around the room, which was gradually lightening as
dawn made its way across the sky. She’d more or less moved into
Nate’s bedroom which was the larger of the two. It was almost
Spartan in appearance with large furniture made from exotic woods.
The bed was massive with four posts that were nearly as large as
she was. It was absolutely perfect for lovemaking. She frowned,
wondering briefly if he’d gone for a swim when she realized that
the splashing sound she was hearing was the spit of the shower.
Before long it shut off and Nate came out of the bathroom, a
snow-white towel wrapped carelessly around his waist.

Tonya smiled. “What on earth are you doing up
so early?” Nate was many things but he was no morning glory, if he
had his way he’d never waken much earlier than mid morning.

He didn’t return her smile. Something about
the look on his face and his posture made her uneasy. “What is it?
What’s wrong?”

“You mean other than that you have a price on
your head, little sister?” he asked with a humorless laugh.

“Yes, other than that.” She studied the tight
expression on his face and suddenly she knew. The nagging unease
she’d been feeling since waking up returned in full force. “You’re
leaving aren’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re leaving.”

“You know I have to go after the guy who put
the contract on you. Nothing you say will change that. I’m going to
kill that motherfucker or die trying.”

“Not that. You’re not coming back,” she
said.

“What makes you think that?”

“The way you made love to me. Back in school
we made love for months and used condoms every time, except for
right before you left.” She looked directly into his eyes. “We
didn’t use condoms last night.”

Nate raised his eyes skyward as though
seeking Divine Intervention. He rubbed the towel over his dripping
hair. “Looking back now I think I was trying to get you pregnant so
I’d have an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?”

“An excuse not to -- Never mind. Last night I
just lost my mind. It won’t happen again.”

“Well I was right there with you. Caught up
in the crazy, too.”

He paused for a long moment, just standing
there with his feet firmly planted on the bamboo floor. Just when
she thought he wasn’t going to say anything he finally spoke. “I
promised I’d never lie to you again. So, this time I’m telling you
that you’re right. I’ve got to go. But I swear this time I’m coming
back. Come hell or high water I’m coming back.”

Tonya struggled not to burst into tears. Some
of her effort must have shown on her face because he walked over to
the bed. When he reached out to embrace her, she pushed him
away.

“Baby, please don’t cry. I can’t stand it. I
have to do this.”

“You mean you’ve fucked me and now you’re
going to walk out. Again.” Her voice broke on the last word. She
pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, determined not to
increase her humiliation by crying in front of him. She’d shed
enough tears the last time he left. “I really must have FOOL
stamped on my forehead,” she said, dropping her hands.

“You know better than that.” He reached a
hand out to her again, but he dropped it in response to her baleful
glare.

“I don’t know anything, do I? You haven’t
told me a goddamned thing,” Tonya said. More than anything she
wanted to get dressed and get the hell out of his house, but she
was naked under the covers. Feeling too vulnerable already she
didn’t want to expose herself even further.

Nate took a deep breath, then turned and
walked over to the window. His bedroom faced the beach and he stood
looking out for so long that she began to wonder if he planned to
say anything else. When he turned around his eyes shone wetly in
the soft dawn light. “You’re right. I didn’t tell you anything
because I was trying to protect you, but that’s not fair.” He
shrugged, and walked back over to the bed. “And I’m not used to
sharing information. It goes against my training, but since he
chose to drag you into this, you have every right to know what’s
going on. Let me sit down. I’m going to tell you a story.”

“No. I need to get dressed and you do too.
Let’s talk in the living room.”

Nate shook his head as though bemused, but
agreed. She wrapped the sheet around herself and rose from the bed
with as much dignity as she could muster. Yes, after everything
they’d done in that bed together it was ridiculous to be
embarrassed now, but she couldn’t help the way she felt. She swept
from the room with her head held high which was quite an
accomplishment considering the circumstances. Once in her bedroom
it didn’t take long to pull on fresh underwear and a loose
sundress. Within a few minutes she joined him in the living room.
He had on a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. He hadn’t brushed
his hair after his shower and the drying curls gave him a boyish
appearance.

“I’m hungry,” he said. “Do you mind if I cook
while I talk?” Tonya shrugged and followed him into the kitchen.
“I’ve got a feeling we’re going to need this,” he said as filled
the coffee maker with water. Once the machine was perking away he
took out eggs and bacon from the refrigerator and began cooking
breakfast. Tonya knew she was too strung out to eat, but didn’t say
anything watching as he stared into space his head tilted to one
side. He seemed to be working something out in his head. When he
finally started speaking, his tone was so soft she had to strain to
hear him.

“Back in college I was recruited to join an
agency,” he said.

“The CIA?” For some reason she’d never
suspected this. Nate had never seemed the government type. He was
too free-spirited and fun loving despite his tragic past or maybe
because of it.

“No. This is an organization no one knows
about. It doesn’t really have a name. None of its operatives exist.
We’re freelancers. Plausible deniability and all that. If we’re
caught or killed the government can pretend they have no idea who
we are. Most of us call it the Department, but it’s not that
organized. Anyway what it is isn’t that important. They were
looking for people with special skills like me.”

“Special skills?” she asked.

“Language mostly. Later on we discovered that
I have an aptitude for explosives but nobody knew that at the time,
including me. Of course, they did call me MacGyver in college.”

“That’s only because of your uncanny ability
to make a bong out of pretty much anything. As far as I know none
of them exploded. That would’ve made you a lot less popular.”

Nate chuckled in response. “Thank God I let
that shit go. But like I said, it was languages, especially Arabic
that they wanted me for.”

Tonya nodded shivering as she recalled the
mornings he’d awaken speaking French. His voice deep and husky from
sleep would go all over her like a silken caress, before he
switched to English. It was still one of the most erotic things
she’d ever heard.

“You know I look kind of ethnic and people
never know what I am. I think it’s my mother’s Basque blood,” he
said with a shrug. “Grow a beard and look Arabic. Cut my hair short
and people assume I’m black or at least biracial.”

She smiled. “Yeah, I think that’s why we
didn’t get much heat for being an interracial couple. Nobody had a
clue what you were.”

“Plus I’m a good mimic. I’m really good with
mannerisms and inflections. I’ve been everything from a Hasidic Jew
to a Latino airline pilot. Anyway, so they sent me out to hunt
certain criminals. One guy I’ve been after put out a hit on you. I
took the contract.”

“
You
took the contract? But I thought
you said -- ” Tonya sputtered, unbelievably confused. All this talk
about contracts and such just left her dazed. She wrote about all
kinds of murder and mayhem and never gave it a thought, but this
was well beyond anything she’d ever imagined. If she wrote
something like this folks would say she was being unrealistic, but
a Waffle House waitress who solves murders on the side -- that was
just money.

“I guess you could say I’m a double agent. Or
at least I was trying to be. My assignment was to get close to this
guy. Unfortunately, I didn’t know he was looking for me too.
Somehow he found out that I was involved with you.”

“Stop. Wait. You lost me again,” she
said.

“I can’t imagine why,” he said with a wry
laugh. “Let me start again. The Rooster, the guy I’m after, doesn’t
know who I am or what I look like. Unfortunately, I don’t know what
he looks like either. Far as I know, no one does -- at least not
anyone on our side. He just knows that there’s someone hunting him
and that someone has ties to you.”

“But I haven’t seen you in since college. How
would he know about us?”

Nate closed his eyes briefly, then sighed. He
opened them again and began laying out bacon strips in the skillet
with methodical precision. Then he carefully adjusted the skillet
on the burner turning the handle until it was at a precise angle
under his hands. She’d seen him do that before -- focus obsessively
on the mundane to keep from freaking out. Once they’d gone hiking
and got hopelessly lost. Nate spent the rest of their time
wandering in the forest talking about the different tree species
they spotted along the way. Made her want to kick him. Hard.

“We think we have a mole in the Department.
We operate on a strict need-to-know basis. Whoever this guy is, I
don’t know him, and he doesn’t know who I am. I think he might have
backtracked me through communiqués, but right now we have no idea.”
He shrugged as though to indicate that it was no big deal, but it
obviously was. His voice had hardened with anger. “Anyway, I’ve
been following the Rooster around the world. Doing jobs for him
while I tried to work my way into his inner circle.”

“But if you worked for him how could you not
know who he is?” Tonya asked feeling as though he’d suddenly
started talking in petroglyphs.

“Oh, he’s a careful bastard. He uses
encrypted emails, couriers and dummy post office boxes. Never meets
his operatives in person. I just found out his legal name. Until
now I only had a nickname: Le Coq -- the Rooster. Tells me that
he’s French though he could be from a former French colony. I’ve
been after him for five years.”

“Five years? What in the name of heaven did
he do? Is he a terrorist or something?”

“Worse. He calls himself a facilitator.”

“A what?”

“Well he started out as a run-of-the-mill
arms dealer. Made a lot of money. We’re not sure when he expanded
his product line so to speak.”