Bodyguard of Lies

CHAPTER 16

"You did well," Neeley told Hannah.

They had driven to the airfield outside Lawrence in a state of emotional collapse. They were waiting in the small metal hanger. There was no one else around this late in the day, just two small planes parked on the tarmac. They had a bench, a vending machine, four walls, a concrete floor and a ceiling.

Hannah turned to Neeley. "I did well? What's that supposed to mean?"

Neeley now understood why Racine had been careful at the house and the restaurant. The idea that the Cellar wanted Hannah alive was more frightening than the fear of a quick, clean hit. And what had Racine meant about her piece? What did they think she had?

"He was going to kill you, wasn't he?" Hannah said in a level tone of voice.

"That's the basic idea," Neeley said.

“What do you have that they want?” Hannah asked.

Neeley shook her head. “I have no idea what Racine meant by that.”

Hannah stared at her for several seconds.

“It’s the truth,” Neeley said.

“It’s the third piece and he thought you had it,” Hannah said. “Interesting.”

Neeley said nothing.

“And why does Nero want me?” Hannah asked.

“I don’t know,” Neeley said. “Maybe to learn something about John.”

Hannah changed the subject. "What are we going to do?"

Neeley knew she had to start letting Hannah in on some of what was going on. "I guess we have to find this videotape. Knowing Gant, it's cached somewhere."

“If we get it, will he make the deal?"

"Racine can't make a deal. He doesn't have the power to. That's why we left him like that; besides the fact we didn't have the tape to deal with yet. But the man he works for can."

"And if Nero doesn't?"

"We're no worse off than we were before," Neeley said. "Actually better off because we have Racine off our tail. Which reminds me," she added, taking Hannah by the arm.

"Which reminds you of what?" Hannah asked, standing and allowing herself to be led.

"Training time." She led Hannah to the car and opened the trunk. "We have to get this gear stowed quickly when the plane lands in the morning."

Hannah looked at the equipment. “What are those cases?”

“Guns.”

“I've never handled a gun before."

Neeley put a hand on Hannah's arm. "Don't be afraid of these guns. They work the same for you as they do for anyone else. A bullet doesn’t care if you’re a man or a woman. Neither does the gun." She pulled two large rucksacks out. "Let's pack first, and then we can have your first lesson."

They quickly broke down the load from the footlocker, cases and duffel bags. Neeley packed two rucksacks, and reloaded the duffel bags for the trip. Then she pulled out a pistol. "This is a Berretta 9mm pistol. It's the same thing the US military uses and if a GI can use it, then you can too. It's a very safe gun."

"That sounds like a contradiction if ever I heard one," Hannah said.

Neeley picked up a magazine. "Fifteen rounds in the magazine, which is a lot of bullets." She slipped it into the butt of the weapon and slammed it home. "You can feel it lock in place." She pushed a button. "That's the magazine release." Neeley looked up. "Always, always, and always remember to make sure the chamber is empty also. Just because you take the magazine out, that doesn't mean the gun is unloaded. There can still be a round in the chamber."

"What's the chamber?" Hannah asked.

"Jeez," Neeley muttered. She pulled back on the slide. "Here, this is the chamber," she said, pointing into the small hole on the side of the receiver that was now exposed. "That's where the bullet that is to be fired sits."

Hannah chuckled. “I knew that. I was just pulling your leg.”

Neeley stared at the other woman for a few moments, trying to figure out how she could be so relaxed in these circumstances. It was as if there was a disconnect in Hannah between reality and emotion.

Neeley put the magazine back in, and pulled back the slide. "There's a bullet in there now." She removed the magazine. "That bullet is still in there. Thus the gun, despite not having a magazine in it, is still loaded. With one round at least." Neeley moved her thumb. "This is the safety. I can set it either way. Are you right or left handed?"

"Right handed," Hannah said,

"Fine, then it's ready for you."

Hannah took the gun. She slid the magazine in and chambered a round. Then she removed the magazine and pulled the slide back, taking the round out of the chamber.

“When you shoot, double-tap,” Neeley said. “Always double-tap.”

Hannah nodded. “Two shots, right?”

Neeley smiled. “All that reading was good for something, wasn’t it?”

“And to the head.” Hannah was looking down the barrel. “That’s what the books say.”

Neeley nodded. “To the head. A person can be wearing body armor. The head is always best. If you shoot, shoot to kill. None of that wounding crap on TV. A wounded person is a very dangerous person who is also now very angry at you.”

Neeley kept the lessons going as they waited. The evening began to close in on the flat Kansas countryside and Neeley grew more nervous. Racine would be free by now. There was no reason to believe he would look for them here, but Neeley wanted to get as far away as quickly as possible.

They went out to the deserted airstrip and Neeley set up cans and let Hannah fire away. She was all right, but Neeley knew a lot more training would be needed to get her up to operational speed.

Neeley thought of the last time she had seen Kent. He was someone Gant had known from the service and then from the shadow world. Gant had hired him to fly them up into the Rockies from Vermont for extreme cold weather training. Kent had shown up at Montpelier Airport on time and taken Gant's cash, then immediately taken off and headed west. Flying somewhere over the Midwest Gant had produced rule number 9. "Never walk when you can ride. Never ride when you can fly."

She handed Hannah another weapon and started the wait for morning.

It was quiet except for the sound of the air system circulating. Nero had lived with that sound for so long, he would only be conscious of its absence. His living quarters were through a concealed door at the back of his office, a small room a monk would have been proud to call his own. Nero had not left the Cellar for eleven years. He’d even had his throat surgery done down here.

An eight inch stack of paper was on the left corner of the desk, delivered there by Mrs. Smith, as she did every day. They were top secret intelligence summaries coded into Braille. Nero reached underneath the top of his desk and pressed a button turning on a hidden radio. The voice of the BBC news whispered through the room as he took the first piece of paper, rapidly running his forefinger across the raised dots.

A slight smile crossed Nero’s lips as he read the report about Racine being bested in Kansas City. He knew what it must have cost the man to make that report. The smile was gone when he got to the section that detailed the support from the Agency that Racine had requested. The women must have upset Racine mightily. Nero could not recollect a time when Racine had asked for so much assistance.

Was it too much? Nero wondered briefly.

He closed the file and lit a cigarette, deep in thought. He had learned one of the most difficult things about running operations was to not do anything at critical junctures, to allow the pieces in place to continue their course. He realized his desire to intervene was based on hope, not a good motive. He had to let things play out and live with the results, even if it didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

That didn’t mean he would do nothing, though. A good chunk of the eight inches of paper Mrs. Smith had delivered were concerning events in the Sudan, Somalia and elsewhere in the covert world in October 1993. Nero knew he’d missed something and he was determined to find it.

Nero lit another cigarette and continued reading the reports, the soothing sound of the BBC in the background.