Part 6
Over the Atlantic
Jack sat in front of his laptop, studying the screen. Vaughn had just informed him that they had sighted Arvin Sloane crossing the border from Italy to France. He was now in his warehouse/office in Paris. Jack looked at his watch. They were going to land in about an hour. That would make it three in the afternoon. He closed the laptop and punched in some numbers on his cell phone.
“Vaughn?”
:”Yes sir! You got my email?”
“Yes and good work. I want you to set surveillance…”
“Already in place.”
Jack had to smile a little. “Have you seen any of the other three?”
“No, no sign.”
Jack frowned. This wasn’t like Irina. She had too many contacts everywhere. He and the CIA had underestimated her powerful connections. He wouldn’t have been surprised to learn half the police force in the city knew her or worked for her. He would have bet she knew exactly where Arvin was and what he was doing.
“Keep an eye out for them or anyone who might be working for Irina.” He hung up, thought a moment then, made another call.
“Jean Paul!” he said when the line was answered at the other end.
“Monsieur Jacques, how nice to hear from you.”
“I’m going to be landing in an hour. I need to see you, sil vous plait.”
“I will be in my office waiting.”
Paris
Irina sat sipping tea. She had just made an important decision. Now, she was lost in her thoughts. She had told Sydney and Aleksey as much as she dared. Maybe by telling them little by little it wouldn’t be such a shock as if she had told them everything at once. And Jack, she sighed, how much could she have told him? She closed her eyes, remembering his touch, his voice. She sighed again. What would he have believed; everything, or nothing? Her heart raced and she felt flushed. Why couldn’t she have left well enough alone? Why couldn’t she just live her life free of the garbage? Now she had to deal with keeping herself distant and out of his way. She knew when she left him in Panama to go with Sloane, it would destroy any chance, any chance! She glanced at her watch, looked out the window at the darkening sky, and knew it would soon be time to put her plan into action.
She took another sip of tea. She wondered where he was now. Suddenly, she had a strong feeling he was close by. She’d had those feelings before and they were almost always right. It was one of those senses she had been born with and never lost. She stood up, pacing, rubbing her arms. The thought would not go away. Jack was in Paris. They were even stronger than the ones she had had about Sloane’s presence.
Sydney came out of the bedroom. Her hair was in a ponytail. She wore khaki shirt and pants. A kevlar vest was buttoned over the shirt. She had a tool belt that held a knife, extra bullets and a tied- down holster containing her .38 revolver. She held a helmet in her left hand and it had night vision goggles on it.
“Where’s Aleksey?” She asked.
“He’ll be here.” Irina stood up. She too was similarly attired. Her hair was pulled back into a French twist. Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment then, Irina laughed, a deep-throated chuckle. “We’d better wait until it’s really dark before we go out. We’ll put the neighborhood in a panic.”
Jack stood with Vaughn, across the street and a block from the warehouse. It was dark, but they saw a truck pull up outside. “Do we have the capability to follow?”
“Yes,” said Vaughn. “But with only two cars.”
“Then alert them, for either direction.”
Jack watched the men carrying things from the warehouse to the truck. Evidently Arvin was moving his base of operations.
On the roof of the building next to the warehouse, Sydney and her mother crouched, watching. “It doesn’t look like we’re going to get a chance at the manuscripts tonight.” Sydney peered over the edge.
“Wait here,” said Irina.
A minute later she had crossed the rooftop. Sydney watched her fire a wire across the short distance, hook it down then, cross hand over hand to the other side. Irina disappeared into the darkness. Sydney watched the truck. So far, she had not seen Arvin. She wondered if he was inside, or was he waiting for the delivery. Suddenly, she thought that the most important of his Rambaldi artifacts would not still be there. They had to be with him. She ran to the wire and crossed over. A moment later she too disappeared into the warehouse.
Irina heard the roof door open and close. She was at the stairway when Sydney came up to her. “Mom, Arvin has those manuscripts with him. He wouldn’t trust their delivery to these guys.”
“Yes, I know.” She said. “Sydney, we’ve got to get on that truck.” She tapped the mini mike. “Aleksey?”
“Here. We have a problem. The CIA is close by.” Sydney looked at her, thinking Vaughn or her Dad. “Are you up to performing a little bit of chicanery? She explained.
Jack and Vaughn watched the men on the truck, intent on their movements. The other CIA men had melted away to get to their cars in order to follow. That left only the two of them watching.
Finally, the four men stood for a moment talking. Three walked down the street to where a parked car stood at the curb. They got in and left. The fourth walked around to the cab and jumped up into the seat. As he put the keys in the ignition, another truck came rolling down the street, weaving a little, then a lot, and then it veered into the first truck, crumpling its front bumper.
The two drivers jumped out between the trucks and were engaged in a heated argument. Jack and Vaughn couldn’t see what was happening and couldn’t hear what was said, but then as quickly as it had happened, it seemed to be over. The two drivers parted. The second driver backed his truck away, to let the first leave.
No one had seen two figures leave the warehouse; one went to the back of the truck and the other, into the front seat.
Carter, still muttering, climbed into the truck cab. Shutting the door, he put his key in the ignition and started the truck. As he pulled away from the curb, he looked out to be sure the stupid driver was no where near him. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a hammer being drawn back. He had heard this sound too many years not to know he was in mortal danger.
“Carter?” The voice was low and deadly. “Keep driving and don’t turn your head or I will shoot it off.”
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Drive to your destination. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of the CIA?”
“CIA?” He almost shouted. Where the hell did they fit in?”
“Pay attention to your driving. Put both hands on the wheel. Where’s Sloane?”
“I suppose at the end of this delivery.”
He glanced peripherally into the rear view mirror and almost lost it, but swallowed and kept his eyes on the road. His passenger looked like a Navy Seal commando. Sweat broke out on his face. This man was his worst nightmare. A .38 revolver with a silencer attached was pointed at his head. The hand was rock steady. He couldn’t make out the face, which had been blackened. The eyes were covered with night vision goggles. The intruder wore a black helmet.
Carter Judson was scared for the first time in a long, long time. He had for a moment considered taking the truck elsewhere, but then, he knew the intruder expected to be taken to Sloane. If he didn’t, he had not one doubt it would be the last thing he did. Sloane hadn’t paid him enough to get killed.
”He’s at 47 Rue St. Germaine,” Carter said.
The silence was scary. “Get out of the truck,” said the low voice.
“What now? Can’t I pull over?”
“Jump!” The gun moved forward. Carter opened the door and jumped, rolling as he hit the ground.
The dark figure, slipped behind the wheel, pulling the door shut. “Sydney, get up here fast.”
Sydney pulled back the curtain that separated the cab from the truck body and slid into the front seat. “What?”
“We’ve got to take this truck someplace where it won’t be a danger to anyone.”
Irina looked at her daughter. “Arvin’s booby-trapped some of the things in the back. He knew I would try to get the Rambaldi artifacts he had. The driver was going to 47 Rue St. Germaine. That’s the address of a hospital in that district. We don’t have much time.”
“A park?”
Irina shook her head, “Too many homeless sleep there.”
“Or a vacant lot?”
“In Paris?”
Sydney was surprised. “Head out of the city. Where’s Aleksey?”
“Taking care of the CIA who were going to follow us.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Maybe ten minutes!” Irina floored the accelerator. She seemed to know where she was heading now. They drove fast, hitting dips ferociously, cutting corners, and, in general, driving as fast as the old truck could go. Irina did not know the extent of the explosives or where they were. She knew she had to get far enough away to be able to leave the truck safely.
“Time?”
“Two minutes.”
“I have another turn to make, I’ll slow down and you jump.” Her mother said quietly.
“What about you?”
“I need to get a little further then, I’ll get out.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Sydney said quietly, “there’s been too much leaving in this family already.”
Irina couldn’t argue that. She made the turn. Ahead, about a quarter of a mile was an old bridge over the upper Seine. It had a slight turn to it half way across, not much, but probably enough so the truck would continue straight on into the water. There might be enough time to keep the explosive from igniting.
“Give me your belt!”
Sydney pulled it off, taking off the knife and the extra cartridges, as well as the holster. Irina leaned down and tied down the accelerator while Sydney steered. They were now very close to the bridge.
“Get ready,” Irina pushed open the door as did Sydney on her side. “Now!”
They both jumped, hitting the ground and rolling. First Irina heard the police sirens and glancing to her right saw two cars just turning the corner. Then she heard the explosion, muffled. The truck hadn’t made the turn but had gone into the water. Seconds later, Sydney joined her and they both disappeared into the darkness.
Jack and Vaughn rode in the lead police car. Jean-Paul was an Inspector in SDECE and a friend of Jack’s. He had picked the two men up outside the warehouse and they had given chase to the first truck. They had seen the driver jump. One of the policemen who were riding with them had been left behind to take the man into custody.
“Who’s driving the truck?” Jack said.
Jean-Paul shrugged, “but it is obvious, someone is.” The truck was far ahead of them and now took a left turn.
“Where are they heading?” Vaughn asked.
“Don’t know,” said Jean-Paul. “Turn the sirens on.” He directed the driver.
They made the turn and could just barely make out the taillights ahead. “He’s heading for the bridge,” said Jean Paul excitedly.
Then as they drew closer, they saw the truck hit the bridge rail and plummet over into the river below.
“Mon dieu!” shouted the driver.
“Hurry!”
Jack didn’t look at Vaughn. He couldn’t. This had the feel of Deja Vu. He did not want to say anything. His skin crawled.
Then they all heard the explosion.
TwO endings coming up next, either tonight or tomorrow.
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