MAC WALKER'S BENGHAZI: The Complete Collection (2 page)

“Hello Mac.”

Mac turned his eyes away from Dasha to give Mardian a brief glance.

“Hey Steve.”

Mac knew how much Mardian hated people calling him by the abbreviated version of his first name. The results, though predictable, remained entertaining.

“That is not my name Mac – it’s Stephen Mardian. You are to call me Mr. Mardian. Am I making myself clear? I believe we’ve already had this very discussion before.”

Mac shrugged back at Mardian.

“Did we? I have lots of discussions. Tough to keep track of all of them.”

Mardian looked at Tilley, whose eyes were already pleading with Mac to behave himself.

“It’s Mr. Mardian.”

Mac allowed himself a thin smile as he motioned for Dasha to return to her seat.

“Sure thing…Mr. Mardian. Got it.”

Dasha and Tilley took their seats as Mac remained standing in between them. All three of them were looking back at Mardian who, after glaring back at Mac, sat down as well.

“Mr. Tilley, would you care to explain the mission parameters to Mac here? I have a 10:30 appointment with a congressman that I intend to keep.”

Before Tilley could begin, Mac interrupted, pointing a finger back at Stephen Mardian.

“That would be Mr. Walker to you Mr. Mardian. If we’re going to keep this all…professional like. Just saying…”

Mac spotted Dasha out of the corner of his eye trying to repress a smile. Mardian on the other hand, glared back at Mac again before looking over at Tilley, who in turn shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Ok, I’ll be happy to get us started here Mr. Mardian. Mac, we need your team on the ground in Libya within seventy-two hours. As you know, with Gaddafi taken out, there’s considerable chaos over there. Power vacuums. We have the tribal leaders going after the kind of weapons that, well, we don’t want those kinds of people capable of using that kind of firepower. There’s your expected terrorist groups, some former military figures doing business…it all needs to be monitored and the more potentially dangerous elements shut down before it gets too out of hand. That said, we can’t be sending in our military to do so. This was a U.N. run operation. At least officially. So---“

Mac interrupted Tilley again.

“So you need us to go in there unofficially. Sounds pretty standard Tilley – why the face to face with…Mr. Mardian on this? What else makes this operation different than the others?”

Ray Tilley looked over to Dasha, indicating he wanted her to provide some input. Mac turned his head to the left to look down at her, instantly appreciative of how much better looking she was than either Tilley or Mardian. Taking Tilley’s cue, Dasha began to speak.

“What makes this task somewhat different Mr. Walker, are some of the particulars involved. Libya has been dealing in large arms trading for a very long time. Some believe there to be the remnants of nuclear capability. This has become a matter of importance for a great many of us who hope to see Libya’s transition be as…smooth and unfettered by violence as possible.”

Mac stared down at Dasha, looking past her beauty and trying to see what the motivation behind her involvement really was.

“And just what is your interest in this Dasha? Who do you represent?”

Dasha met Mac’s stare calmly, her hands folding across her slender, crossed legs.

“My position with the United Nations involves a new approach Mr. Walker. For too long that institution has been viewed as something of a joke among the world’s political class. There are those who feel it must…evolve. We must move beyond countless meetings and agendas, and idiotic statements that have no basis in reality, and are ultimately, non-binding. We have been pleased to see this view received rather warmly by the current American administration. Call it a more…pro-active approach. We wish to give the United Nations real teeth, so that the world will come to realize if provoked, it can and more importantly will, bite back.”

Inside his head, Mac could hear warning sirens beginning to sound.

“You think the United Nations needs to change? Become, what? More powerful? More…militaristic?”

Dasha remained exceptionally composed as she nodded her head.

“Yes, Mr. Walker. Think of it as a new beginning for the organization. A…New United Nations, if you will.”

Now the warning sirens in Mac’s head were on full alert, blaring loudly.

“You want me and my crew to go into Libya to represent this new approach by the United Nations? No way. We work for the American government. I’m former military, we all are. All due respect Dasha, but I can’t stand the U.N., and I’m sure calling it the “New United Nations” won’t change that one bit. They’ve never been nothing but a bunch of pencil pushing bureaucrats always complaining about how shitty America is, or how evil our military is, or that the earth’s too cold, or too hot and how if only we didn’t drive cars or heat our homes it would make everything all better. Bullshit. No way. I ain’t doing the work of the United Nations. Sorry Tilley – you’re gonna have to get someone else for this one. Not interested.”

Mardian’s voice slithered across his desk, dripping venom.

“You already agreed to do the job Mac. Tilley told me. If you don’t want the job – fine. You won’t get this job. You won’t get any job. Ever. You’ll be doing security at a fucking Walmart, you arrogant asshole!”

Tilley attempted to intervene as he saw Mac’s eyes turn dangerous while staring back at Mardian.

“This is an important operation Mac. We’ve agreed to pay you what you asked for, and if this goes well, I know there’s going to be a lot more work coming your way. This would be very good for your career Mac. You ain’t getting any younger. Time to start saving your pennies, right?”

Mac ignored Tilley, looking back down at Mardian who was beginning to wither under his gaze. Dasha rose from her chair to look at Mac directly.

“Please Mr. Walker, I have reviewed your file. You are absolutely the right person for this operation. Mr. Mardian is correct – there will be more work available to you after satisfactory completion of the Libyan operation.”

Mac’s eyebrows raised slightly as he looked away from Dasha and down at Tilley.

“She has access to my file? I thought we were off the books Tilley? How does someone from the U.N. have access to MY file? Access to any record of what we’ve been doing? What the hell is going on here?”

“I am connected Mr. Walker…to more than simply the United Nations. That is my official capacity. Like you, I have what you might like to call, an unofficial capacity as well. Access to your file is not really the issue here. What is at issue is our need to have you take this assignment. Would you consider an additional one hundred thousand dollars in payment Mr. Walker? Half up front? You and your men could certainly use that kind of money, right?”

Mardian began to object, complaining that Mac was already being paid well for his potential services. This caused Dasha to hold up her hand to Mardian as she ripped through his objection.

“Mr. Mardian, I would like you to simply sit there now and shut up. I don’t care for you, and neither does Mr. Walker here, and your behavior suggests our feelings are not without merit.”

In Washington D.C., it was a very rare thing for anyone to speak to Stephen Mardian as Dasha did at that moment. His personal contact list was a collection of the most influential figures within that city’s mighty corridors of power. And yet, much to Mac’s amazement, Mardian’s eyes lowered and he said nothing, causing him to silently wonder who this Dasha really was.

“Now, Mr. Walker, I would like to invite you to my D.C. residence as my personal guest. Let us have dinner and discuss your involvement in this pending operation further. I’m a notorious night owl, so for me a late dinner is the rule rather than the exception. Do you accept?”

For the first time since arriving at the cellar Mac felt nervous. Part of him wanted to tell the woman to go to hell. Another part of him screamed to accept the offer and have dinner with her. It only took a few brief seconds for that other part to overcome his indecision.

“Sure – I’ll have dinner with you. Are you cooking?”

Dasha gave her beautiful head a brief shake.

“No Mr. Walker, the meal will have already been prepared. That will leave us more time to talk…and get to know each other better.”

The warning sirens in Mac’s head were sounding again…

III.

By the time Mac and Dasha emerged from the cellar, Nigel already had the car ready to take them to Dasha’s residence, the location of which remained unknown to Mac.

The vehicle was a black, S550 Mercedes sedan. It was a car common to the political dignitaries that permeated Washington D.C., though Mac was able to ascertain this one had been upgraded with an impressive integrated security package. The rear door Mac opened for himself was much heavier than the standard S550, indicating the shell in shell armoring and attack resistant glass. The car felt as solid as any vehicle Mac had sat in, including a limousine that had once been used for the presidential motorcade.

“This is quite a car Dasha. You’re either a lot more important than your work with the United Nations suggests, or very rich and very paranoid.”

Dasha slid gracefully into the left rear seat of the Mercedes as Nigel closed her door and then positioned himself behind the wheel. Looking over at Mac, Dasha gave a slight smile at his comment regarding the car before staring ahead as Nigel drove slowly down the alley before turning right onto G Street.

“Perhaps I am all that and more Mr. Walker.”

Both Mac and Dasha remained silent as Nigel drove the Mercedes past the massive IMF building and east along G Street before bearing right onto Virginia Avenue. Within another minute Mac was able to determine where they were heading.

“You stay at the Watergate Complex?”

Dasha’s eyes remained looking directly ahead of her as she replied to Mac.

“Yes - Watergate West, when I am here in Washington D.C., which is as little as possible. I despise this place and its people even more. I much prefer New York, London, and as much as possible, Dubai.”

Mac nodded, trying to keep the still mysterious woman talking.

“I can relate to that. Too many political zombies in D.C. and not enough real people. The place gives me the creeps.”

Dasha turned her head slightly toward Mac as her slender fingered right hand reached out to rest itself on Mac’s left forearm.

“And where is it that you come from Mr. Walker? Your file said…Louisiana, is that right?”

Mac wasn’t sure if Dasha actually wanted to know where he was born and raised, or if she was simply reminding him that she knew a lot more about him than he did her.

“I’m just a simple Louisiana boy, that’s right.”

Dasha gave Mac’s arms a gentle squeeze and smiled, her white teeth flashing in the dim light of the Mercedes’ back seat.

“Oh, I know you are far from simple Mr. Walker, and…quite dangerous if need be.”

Nigel pulled the car into the underground garage of the Watergate West complex, home to many of the capitol’s most prominent power brokers for decades. The building offered location, security, and access – all the essential components for those demanding to rise through the ranks of the Washington D.C. hierarchy.

Mac noted the elevator rose to the thirteenth floor of Watergate West – the top floor, home to the most expensive and exclusive apartments in one of the most expensive and exclusive buildings in the area.

As the elevator door opened, a gun appeared in Nigel’s hand as he moved in front of Dasha, looking down both ends of the well lit hallway. Only after determining nobody else was nearby did he step completely out of the elevator and allow Dasha to walk closely behind him. Dasha appeared bored by Nigel’s protective practice, indicating she had been doing this very routine for some time already. Mac on the other hand, made note of Nigel’s every movement. The small man had been well trained. His handgun, a Browning High Power – a very old school British service weapon, leading Mac to believe Nigel had likely been affiliated with one of the Brit’s Special Forces groups. If so, that made him both well trained - and smart. Even though several years older than Mac, Nigel would likely still prove a formidable opponent.

Dasha stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hall and input a security code into what Mac knew to be a vault door system. While the door appeared to be a normal residential door on the outside, it was actually constructed of bare reinforced steel, offering a resident considerable security. As the door swung inward to the residence, Nigel was again the first to enter the room with Dasha following behind.

The apartment was both spacious, though it contained almost no furnishings. A basic kitchen area was to the left of the entranceway, a large living area that had only a small dark clothed couch and matching chair, and then French doors to an outside balcony that overlooked the Potomac River. Opposite the kitchen was a narrow hallway that Mac assumed led to the bedrooms.

Dasha turned to Mac as she gestured with her left arm and hand toward the living area.