"Get him on the phone, or you're going to have to kill this guy yourself. I don't think this kind of work would suit you."
"I'll try, but I'm serious about…"
Daniel's cell phone interrupted Parker's sentence. Unknown number.
"Daniel Petrovich," he answered dryly, now pretty sure he was under surveillance. Another deception by Parker.
"Danny! It's been a while. Great to hear your voice."
"Well, you can play it back all day and night I suppose," said Daniel.
"Newest technology on the streets. Turned Parker's cell phone into a bug without him knowing," said General Sanderson.
"Congratulations. I'm glad to know you didn't spend the Hadzic trust fund all in one place," said Daniel.
"I need you in on this operation, Daniel. We're sending a strong message to the Muslim fundamentalist movement here at home…"
"Are you fucking kidding me? Save that bullshit for the rest of your zealots. I'll take a look at the file. If I agree to do this…I don't want to hear from you again. Ever. Is that clear?"
"If that's what you want."
"It's what I always wanted, but here we are. I'll need a few days for reconnaissance…"
"I need this done tonight. Our timeline is set in stone," the general said.
Parker shifted in his seat uncomfortably, as if he sensed an immediate threat to his existence, which couldn't have been further from the truth. Daniel's brain worked like a perfect machine when under pressure, and his processors analyzed hundreds of solutions to his current dilemma within seconds. Killing Parker in a suburban Starbucks never passed through Daniel's neural connections. Petrovich knew that the general had the upper hand, and that all paths led to the completion of the task outlined in the briefcase. It had been no accident that Parker arrived only hours before the mission's deadline.
"I'm done after this. You understand that, right?"
"I understand. I apologize for pulling out the trump card-"
"Apologies never suited you General, and I don't believe it for one fucking second," Daniel said, shaking his head slowly.
"Whether you believe it or not, your actions will make a huge contribution to the war on terror, and-"
"Save the elevator speech for Parker. I have a long afternoon ahead of me. My slate is clean."
"Clean," said General Sanderson.
"I'm curious, how long have you known about her?"
"Do you remember one of the first things I told your training class? There's no such thing as a coincidence," Sanderson said, and disconnected the call.
Petrovich set the phone down on the target dossier and glanced up at Parker. The former special operations soldier looked tense, and ready to make a bad decision.
"Parker, chill out and drink your coffee. You're making me nervous. I need a contact number in case I run into unforeseen circumstances," he said.
"You'll find instructions for that in the file. I'll need to collect the dossier and the gun when you're finished," he replied.
"I'll leave it all at the scene for you," Daniel said, and slipped the file into the briefcase alongside the table. He collected his cell phone and picked up his coffee. "Don't bother getting up. Thanks for the coffee by the way."
"My pleasure," said Parker.
Daniel left the Starbucks with the briefcase, checking over his shoulder once to make sure Parker stayed seated. As soon as he walked out the door, he was hit in the face by a cloud of cigarette smoke from a homeless man sitting at one of the coffee house's outdoor wrought iron tables. The tobacco smoke reminded him of a past he apparently couldn't escape.
He walked back to his car, sipping coffee and firmly clutching the briefcase. Sanderson was a careful and thorough operator, so he felt considerably secure that he would not have to play the counter-surveillance game this afternoon. If he suspected any possibility that his plot had been detected, he would have given Daniel some warning. Not for Daniel's safety or wellbeing, but to give Daniel the best possible shot at accomplishing the mission. The outcome had always been the general's only true concern. He could be unfailingly loyal, as long as your usefulness outweighed your burden. Daniel had learned this early, and leveraged it throughout his "stay" overseas. Unmarked graves scattered across the continents covered the remains of "graduates" that never quite grasped this concept.
Daniel reached his car and deactivated the alarm system, which emitted two sharp chirps. Three low chirps would have indicated that someone or something had made contact with the car in his absence. The vibrational sensitivity of the system could detect someone leaning against the car, or even the slightest bump of an opening door. The alarm would only sound if someone tried to open one of the doors, or forcefully hit the car.
He started the car, and moved it to an empty row in the back of the parking lot, where he opened the case, and pulled out the file. He quickly thumbed through the documents, taking in all of the salient points. The general's operational files hadn't changed in years. Functional and easy to navigate, Daniel had a solid assessment of the job within minutes. A rough plan developed before he could shift gears and speed out of the parking lot. He had a lot to accomplish before soccer practice tonight.
Chapter Two
Daniel checked his watch before opening the door to the house, determining that he was well within the range of returning from soccer practice. He pressed the garage door button and stepped inside as the door motor hummed behind him.
"That you, Danny?" he heard from deep inside the house.
"Were you expecting someone else?" he yelled back, kicking off his running shoes onto the gray tile floor.
He placed a dark blue gym bag down on a small white bench in the crowded mudroom, and turned to the closet to pretend to hang his work clothes. He opened and shut the closet, spying the work outfit that he'd stuffed between jackets earlier in the day. He just wanted to make sure it was still there. He had visited the house during the late afternoon to change clothes, and pick up a few items. He was long gone by the time Jess returned home from work.
Jessica appeared under the soft glow of the kitchen's pendant lighting, and placed a book on the butcher-block island.
"Yeah, I keep bringing Thai food home for Antonio Banderas, but to no avail. You want some Thai food?" she said, and ran both hands through long, dark brown hair, tying it with a black scrunchie she had kept hidden on one of her wrists.
"Now how do you think that makes me feel?" he said, stepping into the kitchen.
"You don't like Thai food anymore?" she asked, closing the distance between them.
Daniel took her hand and pulled her in tight, giving her a passionate kiss. Her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her body against his. They kissed for several moments, before Jess untangled herself.
"You…need a shower. How was soccer?" she asked.
"Not bad. We needed this practice badly. We got our asses handed to us last night. Did you eat?" he asked, and opened the refrigerator.
"I was waiting for you. It's still bagged up in the fridge," she said.
He saw one large brown take-out bag and reached for it, but his hand swerved toward a corked bottle of white wine in the door.
"How about we both take a shower, and bring this bottle along with us?" he asked, pulling the bottle out and shutting the door.
"Sure you're not biting off more than you can chew? Late game last night, extra practice today, late dinner. Can you handle it?" she teased, and turned to walk toward the staircase.
"I can handle it," he said.
Sitting on the floor in front of the couch, Jess and Daniel finished the last of the Thai dinner and Riesling about an hour later. Two pillar candles burned low on the round coffee table, casting a flickering orange glow over plastic take-out containers and empty plates.