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“Exactly. They don’t understand what we go through every day…It’s either stone-cold quiet or a dozen calls at once…Feast or famine.”

  “That’s the God-awful truth. Somebody once said being a cop consists of hours and hours of butt-numbing boredom punctuated by a few moments of gut-wrenching terror.”

  She laughed. “Totally…’bout says it all.”

  He got a serious look on his face and reached over and took her hand in his. “It’s good to see you laugh.”

  She felt a tingle when he touched her that was sadly missing from her life. Never felt that way with John. She slowly withdrew her hand.

  “John and I have so little in common. Infatuation blinded me…at least at first. I mean, it’s not like he’s a monster or something…We’re just not into the same things. I like to workout, hike and camp. He likes to stay home and watch some boring documentary about Poland during World War II. Not his fault…it’s what he likes.”

  “I know you like to get out and do things.” Jake offered.

  “That’s not even it…He seems to go out of his way to point out things I don’t like…For instance, he’s gained at least twenty pounds since we met and now calls the roll around his middle ‘love handles’…Like I’m supposed to love playing with a really gross roll of fat…Bigger it gets, the more I hate touching him.

  “He should know how disgusted I get with lazy people. I work hard to stay in shape and he won’t even spend a few hours a week working out.” I’m a tawny feline jungle cat hunting prey…and John looks like the prey. She looked Jake in the eye. “Is that asking too much?”

  “Not by me. Sounds like there’s nothing wrong with him…just not your type.”

  “Exactly, and that’s a hard thing to face.” You, on the other hand, are just my type. His biceps stretched the knit shirt he was wearing and he moved with the grace and strength of a mountain lion. Didn’t realize how similar we are until the base was attacked. They both kept their fitness level equal to wild predators and worked hard to stay mentally sharp as well. Constant training kept them on the razor’s edge.

  Both were attentive to the people around them and always aware of their environment. John didn’t care what was going on around him and tolerated people only if they could help him. New job might have even more attraction than I thought. She sat back and closed her eyes.

  Bart turned to Nora, who was seated next to him at the back of the helicopter cabin and spoke close to her ear. “Didn’t turn out quite like we thought it would, now did it?”

  The cabin was remarkably soundproofed and there wasn’t enough ambient noise to keep their conversation private, so she moved closer to his ear. “Not at all…Didn’t expect a job offer today…Quite a surprise.”

  “A surprise all right…for both of us. What do you think about getting back into counter-intel and working together again?”

  “I don’t see a problem, since we’ve worked together before…And there’ve been so many other projects, like house remodeling, landscaping and the bus…Although, there might be a little more danger.”

  He looked at her and grinned. “Don’t know, Babe, I’ve seen you with a nail-gun in your hands.”

  “And I remember you using a chainsaw…Now, that was scary.”

  “Have to admit, we’ve had our moments…But this sounds like a horse of a whole ‘nother color…Could be facing some seriously bad people.”

  “I have a feeling the Director’s considered all that…Seems like a very thorough guy…Seems to think you hung the moon. I’m just a convenient accessory with a little investigation experience.”

  “Being modest again, I see. You’re one of the best agents OSI ever had…So good, I had to go and marry your little self, bless your heart.”

  “Well, thank you, my dear…You’re much too kind.”

  “And truthful as the day is long…So what should we tell the Director?”

  “Actually, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about our future. No offense, darling, but I’ve never seen you as the desk-bound type…So what happens when they give you those wings and move you into a commander’s slot? You’ll be bored to death and it’ll show in your work…The operational side is where you belong…I can’t see you being pinned down to long staff meetings or endless hours of budget work…It just isn’t you.”

  She took his hands in hers and spoke with a quiet strength he had come to appreciate over twenty years of marriage, “I told you the day we married I wanted you to consider my wants and desires, but that no enterprise can exist with more than one boss… Somebody has to make the final decision.

  “I think this might be one of your adventures. You took me halfway around the world and back on those and I don’t see why we should stop now…Especially if it means we can work together again. It’s your decision to make, but I’m all for it.”

  “Like I said, Babe, I’m mostly worried about the danger. We’ve already been through the most painful loss imaginable… and no, I don’t want to talk about it…Never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  “Yes, but if something happens, I just know my knight-in-shining armor will come riding in on his white steed to rescue me.”

  He took a deep breath and settled back in his seat. Wonder if she’d have the same confidence if she knew how much the accident affected me?

  The sparkling waters of San Francisco Bay were just ahead. Alcatraz Island dominated the middle of the bay and as the helicopter came around in a tight circle the wharves came up to meet them. Coit Tower stood guard over the hills and he could see the Transamerica tower poking its head above the downtown area.

  The old and new were a nice contrast and gave him a feeling of optimism. Maybe it is time for a change…Face my fears and put them away for good. The helicopter banked hard to the left and he could see Pier 49 below.

  He had no idea what the future might bring, but if this was a glimpse, he liked it. The idea of more travel and adventure made his heart race and being able to do it with Nora was the icing on the cake. They landed and were whisked away in big black SUVs for the short trip to the restaurant. I could really get used to this.

  He pulled the Director to the side as the group was filing into the restaurant. “We talked it over on the way here and we’ll accept your offer…if a few details can be worked out.

  The Director shook his hand, “I don’t foresee anything that can’t be worked out, Colonel. Both Jake and Joanna have decided to follow you…I’d say it was a foregone conclusion on Jake’s part since he worked for us on missions in the Philippines. I was pleasantly surprised that Joanna was so quick to say yes. I’m constantly reminded that young women today take a different approach to life than their mothers…They’re eager to take risks and can be just as fierce as men, especially when defending a just cause.”

  “Are they treated as equals by the men in the Agency?” “Wish I could say they’re accepted by all of our men. Unfortunately, there are occasional conflicts…often initiated by men of their own generation.”

  “Let me guess, when competing for promotion.”

  “Afraid so…Younger men sometimes denigrate the contribution of women their own age, which is a shame…They have so much to offer. Mature men are quicker to recognize the abilities of young women. That doesn’t mean women receive the same recognition. There still is a glass-ceiling of sorts for women where promotion is concerned. It’s the ‘good old boy’ syndrome alive and well, though I hope that erodes with time.”

  They were seated in a private dining area on the second floor of the restaurant after which followed a meal of crisp green salad and steamed Dungeness crabs fresh off the fishing trawlers at the other end of the wharf. Dessert was a choice of fresh fruit or smooth milk chocolate Ghirardelli mousse with a dark chocolate shell.

  Less than two hours later they were back at the NSA building with stomachs full and eager to begin the process of joining the Agency. John Banner was still dealing with the emergency that came up earlier and would meet wit
h them when their training started.

  A one-hour briefing with Human Resources ended the day and Bart and his team headed back to Rancho Cordova in the helicopter. They said good bye on the flight line of Mather Air Force Base after he told them to meet in his office the next morning at 0800.

  He was tempted to check his office for notes from his administrative assistant, but Nora convinced him otherwise with a simple logic. “If something really important came up, they would have contacted you. Besides, it’s a good time to find out how the squadron will function without you.”

  “I know…Fixin’ to disconnect from the unit and refocus my attention on the NSA…But you know how hard it’s gonna be… Put a lot of heart and soul into my work and bless your little heart, so have you. I just need a…”

  His pulse started racing when they turned the corner and saw two full-sized vans with tinted windows parked in front of their house. A large utility truck with the logos of a national cable television company painted on the door was parked in the driveway. He pressed the button to open the center console, reached inside and pulled out a Colt Model 1911 semiautomatic pistol. A quick pull of the slide chambered a .45 ACP round and he held the weapon out of sight. Nora slid her hand into her purse and gripped the 9x19mm Glock Model 19 that was firmly nestled in the hidden holster.

  A middle-aged man wearing a hard hat and carrying a clipboard plodded over to them as they pulled up to the curb and smiled. “Please don’t be alarmed, Colonel. I’m Kim Hanson. Director asked me to meet you here instead of coming to the base…Believe we have some mods to a motor coach to discuss.”

  “Yes, we do…Just surprised y’all beat us back here.” “Actually, the Director had us come over this morning.” “Guess he was pretty sure I’d say yes.”

  “Wouldn’t matter what you said…We’d have gone back if

  we weren’t needed. Gotta tell you though, there’re men who’d cut off body parts to work for the Agency…It’s a fantastic job.” “I agree and looking forward to it…Long as I don’t have to cut anything off. Like to hang on to all of me, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, sir…If you’ll give us half an hour we’ll go over what we have in mind for your baby.” He pointed to the Model 10 Silver Eagle bus that took up most of the side patio of the house. “Think we put together a pretty good plan based on pictures of the outside and the factory diagrams for your coach. Just need some idea of how the inside’s been modified. I have three technicians with me and think we can do the work in a week or two…at the most.

  “What kind of work?”

  “Engineers put together a security system with dual backups to protect the coach and its contents, including passengers… Also lets you communicate to and from anyplace in the world by satellite and microwave…You get hundreds of television channels, too…‘though a lot are foreign.”

  “Sounds like fun. Why don’t all y’all come inside…We’ll rustle up some snacks and get to it.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand you have a rally in less than a month…Wouldn’t want you to miss that.”

  Bart released the mag, uncocked the pistol and returned it to the console.

  Two hours later they said good bye to the technical services crew after a detailed discussion about coach modifications. Nora had her own ideas about some of the work, which were readily accepted by the NSA crew. Hanson remarked, “You sure do know your way around a wiring diagram.”

  “Had the chance to get a pretty good education when I worked for OSI and took evening courses to better understand the equipment I worked with.”

  “It shows…It’ll help when you start working with us…See you in the morning.”

  The technical crew headed to a local motel. They would be back bright and early the next morning to begin the work of updating the Silver Eagle with some of the most advanced electronics in the world.

  Alterations would be cleverly disguised to fit into the bus without disclosing their true purpose and a major upgrade to the electrical system was in order. The six-and-a-half kilowatt generator would be replaced with a fifteen kilowatt version that displayed the markings of the smaller generator in case anybody snooped around the bus.

  Bart shut and locked the door and turned to Nora. “Well, lil’ darlin’, what do you think?”

  “I’m excited. I’ve grown quite fond of our baby and she’s going to be even better when they’re done. Plus, it looks like the modifications will fit in quite nicely.

  They held each other in an intense embrace until he leaned his head back and looked into her upturned face. “You know there’s nobody else in the world I’d do this with…You are my one and only.”

  “And you’d better keep it that way.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will. Like I told Hanson, I like to keep all my parts right where they are.”

  He turned off the foyer light and they headed upstairs.

  ***

  CHAPTER 7

  DIRECTORS OFFICE NSA HEADQUARTERS WASHINGTON, DC

  The Director studied the daily operational report by the soothing glow of an ornate brass lamp on the executive-sized desk. The reflected light from the ceiling and desk pad was the only other source of illumination in the office, since it was well after sunset. He made notes in the borders and paused for only a moment to speak into the intercom, “Would you bring in any material I have not yet reviewed.”

  Justin Todd, his executive assistant for the past six years, knocked and entered. “Another report on the Egyptian fiasco, sir.”

  “Thank you. Have you read it?”

  “Yes, sir, and there might be a problem with the way the team chief handled the matter. He could have put a stop to his assistant’s affair with the local girl sooner and made the resolution much simpler.”

  “Yes, I agree. Unfortunately, some of our managers are reluctant to interfere with their subordinates private lives. I’m sure his assistant will think about the consequences of his actions while he’s executing his new duties here in the records section.”

  “That and the demotion.”

  “It’s not really a demotion…more like a speed-bump in his career path. He’ll be back on track in no time if he keeps his nose clean…unlike Mister Schulyer.”

  Jason Schulyer, the Director’s former assistant, was caught in a most compromising position with the Director’s nineteen year old granddaughter. He was now assisting the crew of a listening post north of the Arctic Circle, and hoping for a reprieve sometime this decade.

  The Director found himself without an administrative assistant and Justin proved to be the ideal replacement. Inquiries were made about his personal habits and hobbies and nothing objectionable was discovered in his personal life—in fact, he appeared to have none. His Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration and an impeccable work history provided the necessary work credentials.

  However, it was his minor in English Literature that proved most appealing to the Director, who preferred a good classic to what passed for entertainment today. The interview consisted of nearly an hour of discussion about the merits of nineteenth century American essayists versus more traditional British authors.

  The Director hired him the same day without hesitation. He prided himself on his ability to judge the character of a man after a few minutes of conversation. Justin performed brilliantly in the new position and soon became the closest thing to a confidant the Director had in the agency. Always discrete, and never too assertive, he was a good listener and never gossiped.

  The Director continued, “I just got off the phone with Joseph Martin.” Martin was National Security Advisor to the President and a decades long friend of the Director. “He’s talked with the President and I have the authority to activate the Black Star Operations Group within the BSIS Division. Please draw up the necessary paperwork, including a draft Executive Order.

  “This is a list of the initial personnel with a rough outline of their duties. It’s an eyes-only operation, even within Project Black Star, so only
those on the BSOG roster have a need to know operational details…Other personnel are specifically excluded from the slightest hint of the task force and its existence…Questions?”

  “No, sir, I’ll get on it immediately.”

  The Director glanced down at the agency-issued chronograph on his wrist. “Actually, it can wait until morning. It’s after seven o’clock…you probably have plans for the rest of the evening.”

  “No, sir…I canceled an earlier dinner reservation when you asked me to stay. I intend to go home and soak in a hot tub while I read and sip a glass of wine.”

  “Sounds like an excellent plan, although I think I’ll substitute a good Kentucky Bourbon…Good night, Justin.”

  “Good night, sir.”

  The Director shrugged on an overcoat and set a fedora firmly on his head—grabbed the weathered leather satchel that was always with him—turned off the desk lamp and locked the office door behind him.

  Meanwhile, Justin wrote a few reminders down on a legal pad, including a note to call Bill Martin’s assistant in the morning to verify the legal language for the Executive Order establishing the BSOG. He cleared his desk for the night, locked all documents in a safe, and headed for the elevator lobby, thinking about the fresh funds headed to his secret accounts.

  Each account was bolstered by false identities backed by passports, credit cards and all other documentation needed for a quick escape. The documents for half of them were hidden in a storage locker he rented under an assumed name and were available twenty-four hours a day.

  The other half was in a locker in a twenty four hour a day gym near his apartment—secured with what looked like an ordinary padlock. Closer inspection would reveal a thumbprint reader on the back to verify identity when the combination was entered. The lock was made of boron carbide—one of the hardest materials known to man.

  The lock box had a high-tech security system to prevent unauthorized access that used binary explosives. Like to see the look on their face if they try to break into that box.

  The private intelligence consortium he secretly worked for was comprised of former citizens of a dozen countries that once belonged to the Soviet Union. Some were purged from their positions during the breakup, while others simply found the new political environment too confusing and tumultuous. Their combined experience allowed them to adapt ideal procedures in their new spying venture.