4. Missing Page
Angela entered the bank and took the special elevator down, even though the floor indicator registered up numbers. She thought it was pretty cool for SD-6 to have that kind of technique, although once she met Marshall she wasn’t surprised. The op-tech man for SD-6 was by far the best she’d ever seen to come up with the appropriate gadget to make her assignments easy.
She moved through the outer offices with ease, acknowledging the greetings from various agents, all of whom believed they were working for a covert ops organization run by the CIA. She knocked at the door leading to Sloane’s office.
“Come in.”
Angela opened the door and stepped inside. Sloane was at his desk working at his computer. He turned toward her smiling the oily unctuous way that made her want to take a bath.
“Did you get it?”
She nodded and put the manuscript on his desk in front of him. “Yes.”
“Excellent. You had no trouble?”
Angela shook her head, “No, everything worked just as you predicted. One thing though…”
“What?”
“Just before I left, I heard that Piotr was killed.”
“He was alive when you took the manuscript?” He absently flipped the first page.
“Yes,” she answered, lying. He’d died before she left.
He looked up. “Don’t worry. He was probably killed by one of his enemies. You did well, Angela. Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Angela tossed the keys onto the kitchen bar. She was tired and it had been a long trip back from Russia. Jet lag was something she constantly had to combat, especially on missions to the east. Her main problem was being sent constantly east, then west, or even to South America. It usually took her two days to gain her equilibrium back; often however, she was sent out again with a day or two. This was especially true if Sloane was after more Rambaldi items.
She fixed herself a shot of Anejo Tequila; then sat at her desk, pulling open the computer. She had two reports to be sent: one to Anton at SVR, which had to be encrypted and one for Langley. Her computer was one that had been ‘adjusted’ by Marshall at her request. He was addled by her presence every time there was a briefing and he did everything in his power to make sure she completed assignments and returned home safely. She loved the little man, not only because he was sweet, but because of his intense devotion to her safety.
Too bad he thought he was working for a black-ops CIA. Of course, he was not the only one. Marcus Dixon was her partner and handler on most of her assignments. His wife thought he was a financial counselor at a bank. He explained his absences by attributing them to his boss who sent him overseas often for conferences with clients. Diane, he explained, was just as happy to stay home with their three children.
So in an hour, she sent off her reports making sure the SVR one was not quite the same as the CIA one. She walked to the kitchen and quickly made herself a salad, grilled a small steak with mushrooms. She planned to bathe and hit her bed as soon as she could. She was exhausted.
Her cell rang and she picked it up from the end of the counter. “Yes?”
“I need you back here at once,” said Sloane. He didn’t seem happy.
“Why? I’m tired.”
“I want you here in thirty minutes, tired or not.” He cut the connection.
Angela sighed and picking up her keys, made her way to the door. “God damn it, I really need some sleep.” She opened the door. She jumped back a half step. Two men were standing in front of her—security from SD-6. “Hey!”
“Come with us. You won’t need your car.” One man grasped her right arm pulling her out the door. The other closed her door, making sure it was locked.
Suddenly a bolt of lightning flashed in the dark sky followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder. Rain began pouring down. All three were soaking wet by the time they made it to the sedan out in front. Angela was shoved in the back with one man and the other took the wheel. She knew better than to ask any questions. They were Sloane’s goons and just did as they were told and no questions asked. They wouldn’t have given her answers anyway.
The trip to the bank in Westwood took only a few more minutes, but traffic was slow because of the torrential rain pouring down. It would not be long before the streets were flooded. The car drove into the garage and parked. Angela was almost dragged out of the back seat.
“Hey…take it easy!” She snapped. She was tired and irritated by the whole scenario. She was shoved into the garage elevator. The doors opened and she was hustled into Arvin Sloane’s office. The two escorts left her there and went out.
She glared at Sloane. “What the hell is wrong? I just got back from a grueling trip, you tell me to go home and rest, and the next thing you’re ordering me back here.”
“Where is it?”
“What?”
“Where is the missing page?” He stood up and came around the desk. His eyes flashed with anger.
“What are you talking about?”
Sloane stared for a moment; then backhanded her. Angela nearly lost her balance. “I said where is the missing page?”
“Don’t hit me again!” Angela stared at him with angry eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Don’t you?” He backhanded her again on the other side. “There are ninety pages in the manuscript and I counted eighty-nine.”
Angela didn’t answer. Instead she grabbed his shirt, pulled him to the left and drove her right fist into his jaw. Sloane dropped to the floor.
“Guards,” he screeched.
The two men came in with guns drawn. Angela stepped back holding both hands up shoulder high. She looked at Sloane. “I said not to hit me. I have no idea what you are talking about. What page? I didn’t even look at the book.” If there was a missing page, it was in the hands of her mother and she knew which one, but was not going to tell Arvin Sloane anything.
“Take her to the cell and shackle her.” Arvin held his hand to his jaw. “Hitting me was a mistake, Angela. I’m your boss.”
“So was hitting me, you son of a bitch!” She cursed him as the two men dragged her out. “I don’t lie!”
Five minutes later she was wearing manacles on her wrists and sitting on a hard bunk in one of two holding cells at SD-6. They were used to hold men or women who needed questioning. She was aware torture was often used, but she also knew SD-6 was the black ops division of The Alliance and not the CIA, so they had no oversight into what was done there.
Angela swung her legs up to the bunk and lay down, closing her eyes. She was too tired to worry now. She withstood torture before in other situations. Her mother told her before she left on her first assignment that Derevkos were tough and all had high pain thresholds. Angela thought her mother was kidding, until her visit to North Korea a couple of years ago.
She and Marcus were sent to Korea. She was supposed to play a Russian diplomat with SVR credentials. Marcus was in Seoul monitoring her assignment. She was going to take pictures of missile site to ascertain the structure’s capabilities. It was close-ups the CIA wanted and satellite pictures didn’t get enough detail. So she’d parachuted in on a HALO op the night before, using a GPS signal planted close by one valley distant and hiked into position.
She’d been on a small hill overlooking the area about three hundred yards. She’d cut the wire fence guarding the area when North Korean guards found the opening. That had been a surprise because she’d carefully returned the fence to be normal looking by any passing guards. Unfortunately for Angela, the contact who gave them the information had left out a small detail. The fence was wired for just such an event—a cut which was relayed to the headquarters.
They dragged her into the main Army camp and threw her into a camp’s brig. She was beaten and a particularly nasty interrogator she named Suit and Tie, who pulled one of her back teeth out and promised to continue doing one every day until she talked. When she refused, she was held down and a tooth was extracted without the use of Novocain or any other pain killer. She lost consciousness—or at least that’s what they thought. She, however, was not totally out. The pain was only momentary. Something kicked in and minimized it so that she was experiencing aching only.
It was night time when he returned…alone. He leaned down to tell her what was going to happen to her—a tooth a day when suddenly she head-butted him. He fell backward unconscious. Using strength and the will to live, Angela performed a flip still chained to her chair, landing the legs of the chair over his chest and head. The chair broke. Moments later, she was free. Angela reached into his pocket, found the key, and unlocked her chains. She pulled him over to the filthy toilet that was in the cell. Angela removed his clothes, including tie, leaving him handcuffed naked around the bottom, face up.
Since it was midnight and no one suspected she’d escape, Angela made it out of the camp by cutting through another fence with wire cutters she found, but not before she took a good look at the missile’s silo and the site. Although she didn’t have her ???, she did have a photographic memory and knew she’d be able to draw everything as she saw in detail. Then she got out of there and a CIA operative picked her up after she made a call to Marcus.
McCullough opened the cell door and entered with two men. He was Sloane’s torturer or rather put in a nice way, his interrogator. “Bring her to room 1.” He stared at her, knowing most agents hated the sight of him.
However she simply stared back angry, saying, “I didn’t take any page from that book.”
“Arvin says I’m to find out.”
She stared at him, as the two guards pulled her past him and down the hall to another room where she was shoved into a chair. The manacles were removed and the arms to the chair brought up and locked into place. There were cuffs on each and her wrists were locked down. Her ankles were shackled to the legs of the chair. She couldn’t move even if she wanted to and that was it. Angela said nothing.
McCullough walked in with a syringe in his hand, a bottle of fluid in the other. He withdrew some of the liquid into the syringe; then he placed the bottle on a table. He motioned the two men to leave. He had no fear that his prisoner would move. He pulled over a stool and before sitting, inserted the needle into a vein in her arm.
“This will help to loosen your tongue.”
“Perhaps,” she muttered, keeping her eyes focused on a spot on the wall in front of her. She did not intend to say anything and had learned years ago with the help of Mama, how to withstand any type of truth serum. A minute later she felt the sodium pentothal begin to do its work. It made her feel warm and ‘cozy’ in the chair. She kept staring at the wall and finally leaned her head back, closing her eyes, satisfied.
McCullough walked into Sloane’s office shaking his head. Sloane looked up. “Well…?”
“She told me nothing. She simply kept saying she didn’t take any page from the book. I gave her sodium pentothal, shock, and the needles. She did not break and never once deviated from her story.”
“So she’s telling the truth?”
“She says she didn’t take it and I believe her.” McCullough shrugged.
Arvin sighed. He’d hoped that the simple solution would be Angela, but it looked like it wasn’t. She told the truth according to McCullough. So where did the page go and who has it? And why that page? He was beginning to get a headache.
“Angela? What do you want me to do next?” McCullough stared at his boss.
“Never mind, just bring her here to me.”
Minutes later Angela slumped into the chair in front of his desk. “Are you satisfied?” She desperately wanted to go home. “I’m tired…and not a little pissed at you. Don’t ever hit me again or I’ll report you to Langley.”
Arvin laughed to himself, but said sincerely, “Yes, yes, I understand, but I had to be sure. Someone took a page from the manuscript, but it seems I underestimated Piotr. You’re sure he’s dead?”
She nodded. “When I left him, he was dead and the police were on their way. I could not wait around. I was supposed to bring the book to you. I knew nothing about 90 pages or that one was missing. I told you that and you should have believed me.” She stood up. “I’m going home. I won’t be back for two days because I need sleep!”
His door slammed behind her. “Damn it, she’ll be hard to control.” He reached down and pulled the book up onto his desk. He would take it home to study. Emily was in the hospital and he’d have the house to himself. Of course, he’d stop to see her first. Who had the missing page?
5. Papa
Angela was dropped off at her home eight hours after her return to SD-6. She was still a little woozy with the sodium pentothal, but that might help her sleep. Of course she was angry at Sloane and would have cheerfully killed him if it wasn’t for Em…Emily, his wife, whom she loved. Em was in the hospital recuperating from radiation therapy and supposedly had been started on chemotherapy for breast cancer. She would have to see her soon. She wouldn’t tell her about Sloane and McCullough. Bastards!
After showering, taking some extra strength Tylenol PM, Angela climbed into bed. She fell asleep wondering why her mother took the page and what was she going to do with it? That drawing looked so much like her it was uncanny, almost scary. Divesting those thoughts from her mind, she turned over and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. She learned long ago from her mother just how to compartmentalize thoughts and box them in her mind, until she needed the information.
She slept for over twenty-four hours. When she awoke for the last time, her body had replenished itself with energy and awareness. Angela showered and put on running clothes and minutes after finishing coffee and juice, headed out for her usual five mile run. It was late evening, so she drove to the local high school that had a half-mile track
The run was exhilarating and she knew she’d been close to her fastest time. Angela wasn’t interested in breaking anyone’s record. She just wanted to keep her own level of skill at the top. When she was on assignment, running was sometimes an option rather than surrendering. It happened on more than one occasion.
Following the run, she walked another half mile cooling down. Grabbing her water bottle she walked briskly to the gate and through it toward her car. She neither saw nor heard anything until the tranq hit her in the neck. She tumbled forward, sprawling onto the asphalt of the parking lot and rolled over onto her back, as blackness reached in and took over her brain. She heard faint footsteps coming toward her and tried to keep her eyes open, but the drug ruled and she saw only a vague unfamiliar shape bend over before she passed out completely.
It was dark when Jack lifted Alexandra out of the front seat of his sedan. The evening shift was on duty and as such there would be fewer agents about. She would be a prisoner now, because she was an SD-6 agent. Jack knew she must be undercover for SVR as well as the CIA, who’d assigned her to infiltrate SD-6 and be a double agent for them. How she managed to keep everything in sync without divulging her agent status was somewhat incredible.
He carried her into the elevator which took him up a flight to the basement floor of the building. Once there, Jack carried her to one of the glass cells and placed her gently on the bunk bed. He’d removed the tranq from her neck in the car, noticing that there was a very small amount of dried blood at the spot. She wouldn’t wake up for another two hours, which gave him time to get ready as well as decide what to tell her.
Jack stepped outside the cell and went into the now empty guard room. He buzzed the upstairs officer of the shift, who answered promptly. “This is Director Bristow. I’m in the basement cells. I want a US Marshal down here within the next half hour. We have a prisoner in one cell. Have the Marshal’s office set up a shift change for eight tomorrow morning and one at four in the afternoon.”
“Yes sir. What is the name of the prisoner?”
“Angela Benton, agent for SD-6 and that’s all you need to know for the present.”
“Yes sir. Should I notify Langley?”
“No, I’ll do that.”
Jack pulled a chair over to the window beside the bunk and sat down to wait for his little girl to wake up. He could not get over how beautiful she was; almost as beautiful as his Irina. What the hell was he going to tell her…?
“Alexandra, malish devochka moya, you are so beautiful.” or maybe “Moya dorogaya devushka, I am your Papa.” Jack groaned softly. Maybe this was a stupid idea although he’d not seen her for over twenty years. He wondered too if she would recognize him. After all, he was that much older and he didn’t have that mustache.
Still he had to bring her in before she did something awful that he could not protect her from being prosecuted. He wondered how long she’d been in the States…long enough he guessed that the CIA contracted her for employment. His little girl had become a spy, a secret agent. Now what was he going to do? He looked at his watch. She ought to be waking up in a few minutes.
He called Ben Devlin earlier and told him about the capture and why. Ben told him he thought he was being overly cautious. Angela Benton was their agent in deep cover for the last two years. The CIA was attempting to bring down The Alliance and Angela was their best lead into the organization. Arvin Sloane liked her, especially since his wife was taken by Angela’s personality and they had a deep friendship.
“Ben, let me be her new handler. You’re retiring next week, so I thought…” Jack hesitated, “…it would be better if I did your work from here. She lives and works here in LA.”
Ben chuckled, “Jack, you aren’t falling for her, are you?”
“What? No! She’s young enough to be my daughter and who is Angela’s age.” Jack thought Ben could hear his heart beat right through the cell phone.
“Take it easy, I was kidding. Let me check with the Director and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks.” Jack closed his cell. For some reason, a trickle of sweat appeared on his cheek. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face.
He heard a moan behind him and turned to see Alexandra move her legs. A hand went to her head, rubbing her eyes as if to clear her sight. He said nothing but waited. She looked around and then sat up. “What the hell…”
“Hello.” Jack kept his voice neutral.
“Where am I?” She stared at him.
“Justice Task Force, Los Angeles CIA headquarters.”
She blinked and gave a shake to her head. “You tranqed me!”
“Yes, I did.” Jack stood. “It’s been some time since we had someone who worked for the Alliance. You are under arrest.”
“Who are you?” She gasped.
“The Director.”
He saw her eyes widened in recognition. He didn’t act as though he knew her though. He had to maintain his cool, because if he told he was her Papa, she would know he knew she was a double agent. He was aware Sloane had kept a record of all the members of his team, but he also knew SVR would have kept any of their agents apprised of the same information. The only thing Sloane didn’t know was that Angela Benton was Jack’s daughter and worked for not only the CIA, but also the SVR.
“You’re …” She stopped and swallowed. “…uhhh ummm, I think you need to call Langley.” She paid no attention to her words as she was busy staring at him from head to foot and back again.
“Now why would I do that?” Jack asked.
“I’m undercover for CIA. Ben Devlin is my handler.”
“Operations Director himself? That’s impressive!” Jack let a bit of disbelief creep into his voice.
“I am,” she insisted. “My agent number is 5633301. Code name assigned Mountaineer.”
“Very well, I’ll call Langley. I warn you that if this is misinformation, it will go harder for you.” Jack heard the first gate open behind him. He glanced up the hall and saw a US Marshal enter. “I’ll be back in the morning. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable.”
“Wait!”
“What?”
“Never mind, just make the phone call.” Angela’s mind was confused and also excited.
It was her Papa standing on the other side of the glass. He was handsome too. Dark hair streaked with silver, he stood at least six foot two inches. His skin was ruddy and he had no moustache. His ears were prominent just like hers. Oh God, I got them from him. His lips were thin, but his mouth was nice when he smiled.
He seemed not to recognize her, but then she was little when he left her and her mother. She might not have recognized him either if she didn’t already know he was in Los Angeles as a CIA director. He nodded and disappeared up the hall, stopping in the last door to speak to the US Marshal and confirm his orders.
Angela sat back down on the bunk. She had to be at work day after tomorrow. If she didn’t show up, Sloane would send someone to see what was wrong. Damn, she didn’t need that to happen after McCullough’s gambit. Her Papa disappeared up the hallway, so she took a look around. The cell was larger than most. At the end of the bed was a small desk and chair. Both were bolted to the floor. There seemed to be a large window with plants growing on the other side. She walked to it and discovered it was a fake. She was in a basement.
On the far side of the window/wall was the toilet. She turned to face the hall. The entire cell was glass. She thought it probably was doubled and bullet-proof. There was a door on the left side. She located the red light which meant she was being videoed. There was literally no privacy. It didn’t matter to her anyway. It’d happened before on other assignments and now she was going to operate as though she was on one more. Her objective was to be let go before another twenty-four hours was up. She had to convince her father, no, the Director, to let her go.
God she was tired. The drug had not complexly worn off and she felt there were still some residual left over from the jet lag. Angela decided to get some more sleep. There was a light blanket folded on the bunk. She shook it out, crawled under it and fell asleep. There would be time tomorrow to straighten everything out. As she drifted off into a deep sleep, she could hear her mother’s voice in the background, “Alexandra Viktoria Derevko you were careless. That is unacceptable when you are as well-trained as you are.”
She knew that, but her excuse was exhaustion. She wondered how Irina would react if she heard and somehow, she knew she would hear. Mama had resources that reached everywhere into almost every government in the world. She wouldn’t be at all surprised if Mama didn’t know about this before the next day. Smiling to herself, Angela drifted off into a deep sleep.
RUSSIAN TRANSLATION
Laskovaya moya – My sweet
malish devochka moya – my baby girl
moya dorogaya devushka - my dear girl
TBC -