The Phoenix Affair by Dave Moyer (e book reader pc TXT) 📖

Have to tell the Boss something too. Maybe I need to go to a conference or something?” He made a mental note to check and see if there was anything legit that would form a good reason to go to Paris.” He typed:

 

Mr. Smith,

I’m interested, but we need to talk about logistics. You have any thoughts of covering me with the Air Force, or do I need to make up my own excuse to go to Paris? Who’s paying the bills? How long will I be gone? Can I get killed (he laughed at himself at this)? Do I travel as me, or are we playing spooks? Who makes the arrangements?

Cameron

 

He pushed “SEND” and waited, five minutes this time.

 

Mr. Cameron,

You appear to be as advertised. Marvelous. You are an employee of the Phoenix Group, and records will show you have been so since Oct 1990. You’ll be interested in your account balance, more about that later. The Air Force will task you with the trip to Paris. That’ll take care of your General and your wife. Trip should take about a week, including travel both ways. You travel under your own name, but new passport, which we’ll send you next week. We have a photo, not to worry. We’ll send you a new Visa card as well, your name, don’t throw it out, that’s for expenses. You book your own travel with the card, pay your expenses and get cash as needed out of an ATM when needed. The bills come to us, not you. Be reasonable, but not cheap, you want to look worldly and upper middle class. No more likely to get killed than you would be on a trip to Miami in the wrong neighborhood, but one never knows for sure.

When can you go? We’d like to get moving by the end of April.

 

Smith

 

“Well, I’ll be damned. Welcome to the big leagues, I guess” Cameron whistled. He checked his Blackberry for appointments in April. “Pretty booked, as usual” he saw. “OK, that can go, and that . . .looks like the best week is 17-23 April. Air Force orders takes care of both Bosses. General’s gonna be curious as hell and Elizabeth is gonna be pissed, but I’m going.” He typed again:

 

Mr. Smith,

OK that all works. Best week for me is 17-23 April. That OK for you?

Cameron

 

The reply was immediate:

 

Mr. Cameron,

17-23 April is perfect. Expect Air Force tasking end of this week, your destination is classified as is the purpose of the trip. Let us know if that gives you any trouble. Expect passport and credit card(s) end of next week. There will be more than one card, will explain that in later emails along with more info about the mission and the meeting.

Do not use this address again, yours or mine. You create another new account, different provider this time, and send an email to me tomorrow at 77066@hotmail.com. We will discuss the mission there.

Any other questions for tonight?

 

Smith

 

Cameron remembered laughing loud enough that he drew a stare from the woman 2 machines down the row at Kinkos.

 

Smith,

Just one question. Your name really Smith?

Cameron

 

And the expected reply,

 

Dumb question.

 

“Quite an act” Cameron mused now on the pillows in Paris. “A month ago I was a simple Air Force O-6, and here I am now playing spooks in Paris, all expenses paid.”

Preparations had been hectic, but not too much so. The General had taken it well, considering. Nobody likes to be told he doesn’t get to know something, especially a General. But he’d shrugged at the old man and been banished with a wave. Elizabeth had been a little more difficult, she wanted to go along like last time, to London. Undoing that had taken some real fast talking. In the end she was mollified by the promise of a trip to Grand Cayman in June. They’d both enjoyed the Caymans ever since their honeymoon fifteen years ago, and this would be their fifth trip there.

This one would be different, though. Now, turns out, Paul Cameron, Colonel, USAF, has a private account at the Royal Bank of Canada, Georgetown, and a balance, including capital gains and dividends, of just under $800,000. Employee of the Phoenix Group for 22 years? Yikes, he’d remembered saying when he’d read Smith’s email. He had not told Elizabeth about that yet; wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to or should tell her. Time for that when we get to Cayman, he thought, I have some banking to do in Georgetown, just in case. He returned to the business at hand.

The passport and credit cards came as promised. Three credit cards, each in a separate mailing, on different banks, all domestic. Emails with Smith told him to use one for the airplane tickets and cash in the US, nothing else. Smith said to carry about $1000 US, on the card. Destroy that card and leave the pieces in the US. Use another one for the hotel in Paris only, and the third for cash where ever he needed it in Europe. “Pick your own hotel, Mr. Cameron,” Smith had said, “but low profile, not a place where you’ve stayed before, and don’t go straight there from the airport. Take the Metro, not a taxi. You enjoy books on espionage and the like, right?” Cameron had been amazed at the question—he did. “Read this one,” and Smith had given him a title and author. Cameron had read it already, but he read it again. “Create another new email account, new service again, and email Mr. Jones at 76135@yahoo.com when you get to Paris. Internet café always, Mr. Cameron,” Smith directed. “Leave your mobile phone at home please. Jones will arrange a meeting via email. When you get a message from yet another address, ask this question in your reply: “What was the title of T.E. Lawrence’s book about his times with the Arab resistance in WWI? The answer should be “Seven Pillars of Freedom.” Cameron balked at that, and emailed back: “Smith, the book is titled “Seven Pillars of Wisdom.” Smith had retorted “Of course it is, but anyone could know that, Mr. Cameron. Very good, though. Seven Pillars of Freedom, if you please.”

He’d thought about the trip, after that exchange, and began to plan. He re-read the novel. He’d scoured the internet, found and studied maps of the Paris streets and the Metro. From there he’d made his plan for the trip into town. The Bistro he knew from before, his last time in Paris with Liz—it was a good place to sit, wait, and watch. The hotel he also found on the internet. The trick with the woman on the plane had come straight out of the novel. He thought it kind of cheesy when he read it, but it worked. He’d tagged the French cop in the restaurant as soon as he came through the door, and he saw clearly that he was watching.

The skill with the crowd was something he’d taught himself back in ’95, in Miami. He’d never been a big city guy, and before they’d moved there he’d thought about how there must be different “rules” people lived by in a city, rules he did not know. People got killed in carjackings in Miami. Elizabeth was scared to death. So, they invented a “spy game” together. “Keep your head on a swivel” he’d told her. “Leave room between the front of your car and the one ahead of you, so you can move if you have to. Be aware of everything around you, don’t just zone in on the car in front of you, or the traffic light. You need to see someone coming for you long before he gets to you, and you can if you open up your eyes and see. Look up when you walk, keep your hands free and open, look in people’s faces well ahead of you. Listen to the steps around you . . .” They’d both practiced, and felt better. “Never knew if it worked or not, though” he admitted to himself, getting out of the Paris bed and heading for the shower. “Guess I still don’t know for sure, maybe half the Paris PD is hanging around outside waiting to pick me up.” He laughed at that. “Well, I saw that bugger at the airport, took me about a nanosecond, and I haven’t done anything to attract attention. Still, he did look me over pretty well. I looked too military, probably, have to walk like a samurai, Paul, not a Colonel,” he reminded himself. “Weight low, down in the belly, not up high in the chest and shoulders, that’s what Sensei would say. ‘Don’t look at me, I’m just another American out for a holiday in Paris.’” And then “Yeah, right, pal. You just keep right on watching, and be careful, and stay smart. We don’t want Mrs. Cameron going to Cayman this summer with somebody better looking than me.” IV. Bahrain

The Saudi sipped his beer occasionally as he worked his mouse and stared at his screen. Like all Saudis, he wore a thob, the long white shirt that reached to his ankles, and the red and white checkered shamak, even in Bahrain, where most men dressed like Westerners and women could wear miniskirts, high heels, and drive cars. There were many Saudis in the Internet bar in the souq district of Manama, most were having a beer and talking to women or surfing the Internet, none of which they could do at home, ten miles west over a causeway that spanned a thin strait in the Arabian Gulf.

Khalid al-Shahrani took another sip of his beer and savored it. He rationalized that he was doing God’s work, and he needed to blend in with these other people, so it would be OK. He would say extra prayers tomorrow, if he managed to find a mosque. It had been nearly two hours of waiting so far, and nothing had come, until a moment ago.

In the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate,

I am sorry to be late, but I have been expecting a report from one of my men. Our problem is here in Paris, but we have it covered. Once we have determined how big the problem is and what caused it, we will be able to eliminate both. I have the assets I need to do that. Do you have any other instructions for me?

Praise be to God,
 
He read it three times, wishing there was a way to be sure nobody was monitoring him. “Cursed Americans” he thought, “they are devils, cursed by God, but they are clever and dangerous.” It was that which made this vague talk necessary, and he was aware that it was a very thin shield. This message was not that hard to understand, though, so he knew what it meant. He had to think a while about what he would say in return, however. In the end he said simply

Proceed as required, let me know when you have something. Usual schedule.

That was all he really needed to do for today, but he needed to think. His whole operation could be compromised by this man, if he really knew what he had. In truth, though, Khalid did not know what the man