Bodyguard of Lies

CHAPTER 8

The secretary's nameplate identified her as Lois Smith. She looked like the woman who sat behind the window at the DMV and administered those quick eye tests rather than Nero’s gatekeeper. She had a thick gray bun, reading glasses held around her neck by a thin black cord when not in use, and a bulky sweater of muted color covering the shapeless form of her body.

At the moment, Lois Smith was finding it difficult to maintain the mild indifference her job required. As Mr. Nero's personal secretary for over twenty-five years she was familiar with and personable to all his ‘employees’ and ‘contractors’. The exception was the man in front of her. He made her skin crawl. He could have been handsome but at some point he had let his inherent nature control his facial muscles to produce a haunting, feral quality. His head was completely bald, the lights gleaming off the white skin. He was tall and slender, but walked with a slight hunch, as if always protecting the front of his body from some undetermined blow.

Ms. Smith smiled with her lips tightly clenched. “Mister Nero is on the phone. Could you please take a seat, Mister Racine?”

Racine never did what a woman asked unless there was something to be gained from it. He remained standing, staring at her, enjoying her discomfort.

Nero hung up the phone. The report from Doctor Jenkins in St. Louis was encouraging but he didn’t feel any excitement. It was as he had predicted. It would have surprised him if he’d been wrong at this stage. More pieces needed to be moved into place and then set in motion. One such piece was waiting outside his office right now. Reluctantly, Nero buzzed his secretary.

Mrs. Smith nodded to the steel door behind her. "Mister Racine, Mister Nero will see you now."

Racine puckered his lips. To Ms. Smith's credit there was no outward reaction on her part. Accepting there would be none, Racine moved to the door and entered some numbers on the eye-level keypad, while Ms. Smith kept her finger pressed on the positive access button under her desktop that activated the keypad.

The door swung open and automatically shut behind him. Racine stood in a narrow hallway and started to walk to the door ahead. His footsteps activated the floor sensor and a somewhat female metallic voice filled the small enclosure.

"Identify please. Name, number and code. You have ten seconds." The voice went twenty decibels lower as it began the countdown.

Racine was in a hurry and the voice stopped at six. Racine didn't even bother to glance at the small portals that held the incapacitating gas should he fail to make the ten second countdown. He found it quite an irritating routine to go through.

A drawer slid open from the wall. "Deposit all weapons please."

Racine slid the pistol out of his shoulder holster and dropped it in the drawer. He carried a Desert Eagle, a massive gun made by the Israelis and chambered for .44 magnum cartridges. It made a solid thump as it hit the bottom of the drawer. He did the same with three knives from various hidden spots in his clothing along with the garrote secreted on the inside of his belt. He pushed and the drawer slid shut. A red light flashed and he knew a magnetic sensor was being activated. The light flashed green, then went red again, as a puff of wind from the grating below blew up and explosive, chemical and biological sensors in the ceiling sniffed the air. The light turned green and stayed that color.

"Proceed, please."

The far door slid apart and Racine entered Nero's office. He took the chair in front of the desk and waited. As long as he’d been coming here, the room had not changed, nor had Nero’s discourteous manner of greeting. The damn lights were pointed right at the seat and Racine took a pair of cheap plastic sunglasses from his pocket and slipped them on.

Nero pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside breast pocket and made a gesture of offering it to Racine. The pack was withdrawn before Racine had time to say no and Nero was inhaling before Racine could completely wipe the distaste from his face.

Racine waited and watched the old man smoke. When the ritual had ended, Nero capped the hole in his throat and reached for the voice box.

Nero's voice through the wand made the computerized one in the hallway sound like Greta Garbo. Racine took no notice of how the old man sounded. He was interested in only one thing: Why had he been sent for?

"I'm so pleased that you could make this appointment on such short notice, Mister Racine."

Racine felt a bead of sweat on the back of his neck slowly roll down. This place was always warm. Or was it the lights?

“I understand you visited Baltimore last week,” Nero said, his empty, scarred eye sockets staring over the desktop as if he could see into Racine’s soul.

Racine finally spoke and his voice was tenser and more rushed than he would have liked. "Look, Mister Nero, I'm sorry about what happened in Baltimore. Trust me. It was just bad luck. No harm, no foul, right?"

Nero straightened and continued turning the smoldering butt of his cigarette against the glass edge of his ashtray with his free hand. "Mister Racine, surely you can imagine my dilemma in trusting anyone, least of all you. It causes me concern when a government contractor does freelance work. It causes me to consider a possible conflict of interest.”

“But there’s no conflict, I — ” Racine shut up after only five words.

“Interesting,” Nero said. He shifted in his seat ever so slightly. “But we're not here to discuss the unfortunate incident in Baltimore."

Racine smiled with relief. "Mister Nero, it won't happen again."

Mr. Nero returned the wand to his throat. "Let's not push, Mister Racine. Let's agree that you have made your mistake for this year."

The younger man didn't bother to respond. He could see the fog of smoke wafting through the beams of light directed at him.

The metallic voice continued. "I've asked you here today because I have a new and delicate assignment that requires a man with your specialty."

Racine leaned forward. He waited through a thirty second tortuous coughing spasm until Nero could continue. "It seems we can no longer rely on the stability of Mister Anthony Gant's position. As a matter of fact, Mister Gant has truly retired. He's dead."

Racine couldn't hide his surprise. His immediate frustration at the display of emotion made him clench the arms of his chair. Even though Nero couldn’t see, Racine knew the man had an extraordinary ability to discern things in other ways.

"I know," Nero continued, "we are all shocked and saddened by Mister Gant's untimely demise, especially the circumstances. It appears he died a natural death, quite ironic if one takes into account the shocking rate of violence in his chosen profession."

"How do you know he’s dead?"

"Let's just ignore your impertinent question. Chalk it up to grief, yes? More importantly you should ask why you are here. I'm well aware of the animosity between you and the late Mister Gant, and even more so with his brother over the years."

"I'm sorry, sir, you're right. I must be overcome." Racine was making an extraordinary effort, for him at least, to control his voice and words.

Nero nodded his acceptance of the apology, ignoring the sarcasm of the second sentence. "Mister Gant's death potentially upsets a rather delicate balance of secrecy that has been maintained over the years. I myself feel the balance can be maintained but there are others, people in positions of importance, who feel that this should not be left to chance. They want what Gant has held all these years to maintain his end of the balance. We looked for the object in question. Mister Bailey paid a call and found a sterile cabin and a dead Mister Gant." Nero's voice broke and he took a long pause.

Racine was having a hard time taking it all in. He was still trying to accept that Gant was dead. After all these years, to have it end like this. He had never imagined such a thing. He decided to cut to the chase and work through it all when he was alone.

"What about this thing Gant had?"

"We must assume that Gant gave it to someone or if it is hidden, as is most likely, gave someone the means to find it." Nero coughed. “After all, someone had to bury him. And sterilize his place.”

“Who? His brother, Jack?”

“Not his brother. It has been many, many years since the two have spoken. Let’s call this person Gant’s ghost for the moment.” Nero slid a picture across the desktop. "There was someone else who held part of the balance. Another old player who retired lone ago. Gant's piece works in concert with his piece. That is John Masterson.”

Racine stiffened and didn’t look at the picture right away. “Who is he?”

Nero was perfectly still, head cocked as if staring at Racine. Finally he spoke. “Mister Masterson only ran one mission for us years ago. A mission with Gant. He’s been a civilian for over a decade with a new life.”

“There’s no such thing as a new life,” Racine said.

“There is if the old one wasn’t real,” Nero said, almost to himself rather than Racine.

Racine frowned. “So what does Gant have? Or had?”

“Mister Gant’s piece of the puzzle is a videotape.”

“What is the tape of?”

“Of a meeting we would prefer not become public.”

“I’ll get it,” Racine promised.

“Don’t forget Masterson and his piece,” Nero said. He slid a picture across the desk. “This is Masterson’s wife.”

Racine took the picture. He looked at it and was careful to control his reaction to the woman. Very nice. "I'll take care of the Masterson's. What does John Masterson have?" he asked. "Do I need to get that too?"

"No. His piece of the puzzle is relatively unimportant without the other two parts.”

“Other two parts?” Racine’s tongue snaked over his lip nervously.

“Focus on your job,” Nero ordered. “We must assume Gant passed on his piece of the secret to whoever buried him; after all, even our redoubtable Mister Gant couldn't hop in a grave and cover himself up after he is dead, no? So, whoever has Gant's piece will most likely also go to John Masterson to try to reconstruct their balance and therefore you can do the proverbial killing of two birds with one stone by going to St. Louis where the Masterson’s reside."

“And the third piece?”

Nero shook his head. “Not your concern at the moment.”

“It would help if I knew—“

Nero’s voice was sharp and brooked no argument. “No, it would not.”

Racine stood. "I'll take care of it."

Mr. Nero allowed himself a smile. "Gant's ghost is not to die before that tape is on this desk. And Mrs. Masterson. I would like to talk to her to see what her husband told her.”

Racine blinked. “But—“

“Allow an old man his curiosity,” Nero said, cutting Racine off.

Racine frowned. "But I thought—"

"Ah, thinking," Nero interrupted once more. "That's my job, Mister Racine, and I've already thought about this situation. No need for you to waste what little talent you have in that area on this. I have to assume Mister Gant would have played his cards close to his vest but he certainly wouldn't have wanted those cards to be buried with him. After all there is Jessie and his son, Bobbie, to consider."

Racine bit the inside of his lip, waiting on Nero's words.

"From a hair sample we found at Gant's cabin we think his ghost is a woman."

Racine assimilated that startling piece of information. “The woman from Berlin?”

“Her name is Neeley,” Nero said.

“She’s been with Gant all these years?” The concept was quite strange to Racine.

“I believe she has,” Nero said. “Now you understand why I chose you for this.”

Racine bridled at the reference. It was well known in the Cellar that Racine had no problem taking contracts on women. Not all of the specialists in the Cellar shared Racine's attitude. Racine said, to those who cared to listen, that if women wanted equality, he was happy to oblige.

Nero slid a piece of paper across the desk. “That’s an Agency number in Operations. Someone with quite a bit of pull has gotten support from our friends in Langley. If you need help, you may call upon them.”

Racine took the paper, knowing this was strange. Implicit in Nero’s comment was that he couldn’t call the Cellar for back-up. That wasn’t totally bad, considering the Agency had a lot of resources, but the quality of those resources was a different story. Racine had to assume this was his punishment for Baltimore.

“You are dismissed.

Racine left. As soon as the door closed behind him, a panel on the wall behind Nero opened and Bailey walked in, jaws working as he chewed his ever-present gum.

"Baltimore?" Bailey asked, taking the seat Racine had occupied.

"Racine did a free-lance job. Made a bloody mess of it. Killed a couple of non-players. A woman and her husband."

“For who?” Bailey asked.

“For Senator Collins.”

Bailey frowned.

Nero nodded as if he saw the frown. “Yes. Raises all sorts of questions, doesn’t it?”

“Wheels turning within wheels,” Bailey said.

Nero grunted. “Aren’t there always?”

“Why the kill?”

“The good Senator was having an affair with the woman. Her husband had learned of it and was threatening divorce. It would have gotten ugly. The good Senator is in a precarious position as he tries to move upward in the world.”

“The woman — Neeley. What do you think she will do?”

“Most likely go to Masterson,” Nero said. “That’s what Gant would have told her to do.”

“You mentioned a third piece?” Bailey asked. “A third person?”

Nero nodded. “I’m not sure everything was as we thought it was so long ago. I was fishing with Racine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been rearranging the facts. They’re vague and distant sometimes, but they are there. Sudan. Mogadishu. The Embassy bombings. 9-11. Afghanistan. Action — reaction. Short-sightedness. Even before then. We never quite tied up the loose ends on Pan Am 107.”

Bailey’s eyebrows lifted at Nero’s tone. He’d never heard the old man so angry.

Nero could tell from the heavy silence that Bailey didn’t quite believe he was telling him everything, but implicit in their relationship from the beginning had been that Nero was the one who controlled all the pieces, and knowledge of both the players and the moves were only given when needed.

"Why did you put Racine on this?" Bailey finally asked.

"Because Senator Collins wants the issue resolved but I have yet to decide exactly how that resolution will develop and I want to keep my options open. Since Senator Collins was involved on the front end and appears to be involved in something presently with Racine, we might as well involve Racine in this. I think I need to take a harder look at Mister Racine and the past. You never know what might come out of the forest if a fire burns through it."