Mission: Impossible
Previous Chapter: A Reunion
I do manage to doze off. The sun’s just peaking when I wake up again. I carefully disentangle from Isabel, take a quick rinse and get dressed before heading out to the kitchen. It seems I’m still the first up, so I make coffee and root around to see what sort of grub is available. Not a huge selection, but adequate. I make some eggs and bacon, prepare some toast and lay it out buffet style. The smell of coffee and breakfast awakens the rest of the crew. They sleepily arrive in short order. Eric moves to the living room and clears a space to do some exercises. Evidently he’s the type that likes to wake up via increased blood flow. Jeff and Isabel go straight for the coffee. I prepare my plate, get a glass of OJ from a bottle I found stuffed in the back of the fridge and head to the dining table. Jeff keeps peering at my face and shaking his head, muttering that his eyes water in sympathy. Eric, finished with his sit-ups/push-ups etc., and joins us all at the table. Isabel starts the briefing between bites of breakfast.
“This is a really challenging job. This guy has been on our list for a number of years and several teams have been sent in to deal with him. He’s not offering any sort of window that allows for a clean kill and we don’t want a bloodbath. We came out here almost a month ago hoping that we’d have better luck, but aren’t seeing anything different. A couple of days ago, Eric suggested I contact you and see if you could come up with any ideas.” I look at Eric and give him a thankful nod. He responds with his own, “We have the records of all the observations made over the several attempts.”
As we wind down our meal, we start to clear the table. Jeff pulls out the maps he reached for yesterday and runs his fingers over them (we generally never write on maps, such things give way too much information if they fall into the wrong hands) showing me some of the routes they’ve observed the target taking.
Isabel says, “The target uses decoys a lot. We think he has as many as three look-alikes. He has a number of cars that look the same, even having the same license numbers, and naturally the windows are darkened. Even the drivers look the same. They wear a uniform and could be twins/triplets. We believe there are a few routes he personally takes on a regular basis, though there doesn’t appear to be any way to reach him. He gets in/out of his car under cover and well away from any public access. He spends most of his time in his house, which might as well be a fortress. The guards are all well trained and loyal. His house is on a local high spot. It isn’t feasible to look in like that job in Monaco. We briefly thought about trying to snipe from a plane or helicopter. Even ignoring the spectacle it would make, the couple of recons we did by air indicates he doesn’t spend much, if any, time outside even when at his estate.”
She goes on to detail all the other ideas they’ve researched. Clearly she’s done her homework. Not only does she check off everything on my own personal list, I wind up adding a few items I hadn’t thought of. I ask a number of questions. Generic ones, given my lack of research to this point, but ones that need answering. She has answers for them all. I paste on a knowing look as I struggle to think of approaches she hasn’t considered yet.
Isabel continues, “This seems like an excellent challenge for you. If you do your evaluation and don’t come up with anything, at least I’ll feel better returning home with our tails tucked between our legs. Naturally, if you come up with something we would like to see it through. Unless your fee is too astronomical.”
I wonder to myself: how much is “too astronomical.” Putting that thought to the side, I look over the maps, acquainting myself with the roads, alleys, etc. I begin memorizing the roads around the target’s estate as well as likely spots where they think he’s been visiting regularly. Eric pulls out their notes, all on physical paper. The stack isn’t that thick, maybe a half inch or so, mostly typed, with some handwritten stuff. I scan through the pile, glancing back to the map from time to time to orient myself. I’m not aware of the passage of time. When I look up Eric and Jeff are gone. The dishes are all washed. Isabel has changed out of the flannel pajamas she’d been wearing and into some dark slacks with a frilly white blouse.
She says, “You’re interesting to watch. Did you realize you mumble?”
“I didn’t. Then again, I usually work alone, so there wouldn’t be anyone listening.”
“You sound like you used several different languages, though I can’t be sure, most was under your breath. Sometimes you would just sit there perfectly still for ten to fifteen seconds. Occasionally staring at the paper in your hand; other times at the map and sometimes just looking at the wall. Even if I walked in front of you or waved my hands there was no recognition at all. Kind of amusing.”
I feel embarrassed, though not sure why. “I have an idea now of what you have up to this point, I’m going to start doing my own research. I enjoy sleeping with you, but it has to stop with spooning and it’ll be better if you wear PJs. I’ll be keeping all sorts of hours. Sometimes this process takes me a week or longer. Given the history, I have to guess longer.”
“OK,” she says, “I’ll keep my hands to myself. Is there anything we can do to help?”
“It’d be nice if there were some prepared food in the fridge. That’d streamline my process somewhat. I don’t make physical notes and I don’t think I’ll be prepared to talk about any of my thoughts until I have them organized. Other than maybe a ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ as I to and fro, I don’t expect I’ll have any interaction with anyone.”
“I’ll see to it.”