Poe

Chapter Eight

This was not their usual day for a meeting, nor their usual time. But emergencies happened, and this one, the woman thought, couldn’t be more urgent.

She sat quietly on the left side of a rectangular conference table as her colleagues filed into the room and took their seats. Three men, all with well-known faces, each one seasoned by circumstance, and a bit haggard after a number of sleepless nights.

The woman hadn’t slept much, either. Not since she had received the news. She was no stranger to the complexities of their situation, having spent the last five decades in the trenches with some of the most powerful men and women in the world, but this particular complication could destroy all of that hard work in an instant.

At the center of the table was a speakerphone with an encrypted connection, allowing the fifth member of their assembly to attend remotely. The connection was crystal clear, and she could hear him quietly breathing on the line.

As they settled into their chairs, the oldest of the men said, “All right, so where do we stand?”

To the world outside, he was a prominent banker. Cautious, conservative, trustworthy. But the more appropriate description was greedy. For it was greed that had brought them all together in the first place — a flaw, or perhaps strength, that the woman was more than willing to admit to. After all, wasn’t it greed of one kind or another that drove most human beings?

“Nothing’s changed,” she said. “My source tells me the Ukrainian authorities still have no idea who they have in custody.”

The banker nodded. “What guarantee do we have it’ll stay that way?”

“None, I’m afraid. Leaks are inevitable. It’s really only a matter of time.”

“That’s pure speculation,” the voice on the speakerphone said. At fifty-one, he was the youngest — and least seasoned — member of the committee. “And even if she’s compromised, I doubt she’ll say anything.”

The banker nodded in agreement. “He has a point. El-Hashim has been an extremely loyal and efficient operative. She knows what’s expected of her, and she’ll carry it out.”

“What she knows is too much,” the woman said. “I don’t doubt her loyalty for a moment, and I’m sure she’ll do everything she can to remain silent. But if the Ukrainians find out who she really is — and speculation or not, I believe they will — they’re bound to turn her over to the British or the Russians or, God forbid, the Americans.”

The mood around the table grew darker at the prospect.

“Once that happens, gentlemen, she’ll be out of our reach. And loyal or not, she’s only human. If they can’t get her to talk, they’ll outsource the job, and sooner or later she’ll tell them everything she knows.”

Silence. Darker than ever now.

“We all know why we’re here today,” the woman continued. “We all know what has to be done. There really isn’t much more to discuss.”

The man directly across from her leaned back, letting his gaze take in the rest of the assembly. He was the de facto leader here, a well-dressed man in his mid-seventies known as a financial advisor to presidents and kings. “She’s right,” he said. “We should put the motion to a vote.”

Nods all around.

“All right, then. On the matter of immediate termination, what say you?”

“Yea.”

“Yea.”

“Yea.”

There was nothing from the speakerphone, and for a moment the woman thought they had lost their connection. Then the voice said, “Yea.”

The man across the table pushed himself upright and rose. “My vote is yea also. The motion is passed.” He looked at the woman. “You’ll handle this?”

“Of course,” she said. “Everything has been arranged. I just need to give the go-ahead.”

The man looked around the room. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to add?”

Everyone remained silent.

“Good. Then we’re adjourned.”

There were no goodbyes, no talk of exchange rates or bond yields or pending loans. The speakerphone disconnected, the other two men rose from their chairs, and they all walked out of the room, leaving the woman to do what needed to be done.

She sat there a moment, feeling no remorse, no hesitance. And why should she? This, like most things in her life, was merely business.

What she felt was relief.

Setting her briefcase on the table, she retrieved one of the three mobile phones she carried. A burner, like the others, obtained specifically in case she needed to make this call. Once she was finished, the phone would be destroyed.

She punched in a number, waited. Then a voice said, “Yes?”

“Authentication: theta omega seven theta two two tau alpha nine.”

“Recognized.”

“We’re a go,” she said. “Send her.”

“Understood.”

The line went dead.