Peter Kirsanow - Target Omega

Julie turned off her desk lamp and began making her way out when the rental office door opened and Justin’s opposite in every way walked in. This was no pretty boy, although he was at least as good-looking and far better built than Justin. This, Julie thought, was a man — something women in her age group encountered about as frequently as leprechauns. Maybe the evening still had possibilities.

“Well, look who’s back!” Julie exclaimed, flashing a perfect set of laser-whitened teeth. “I was afraid you’d fallen into the bay or something. I’ve seen some of your friends from time to time, even though you all keep pretty much to yourselves, but you must have been practicing your imitation of the invisible man. I thought I wouldn’t see you before your rental’s up on Thursday.”

Garin smiled charmingly, an act that didn’t come naturally. He wanted to maintain the impression that he was just an average guy spending the week fishing and hanging out with his college buddies.

“My office called and I had to go back to the District to take care of some business,” Garin explained.

“So you took care of business and now here you are,” Julie said cheerfully as she came from behind the rental counter, making sure Garin got a good look at her plyometrics-toned body. “Oh, I almost forgot.” She stopped abruptly and began walking back to the desk. “Your friends asked me to make sure I called them whenever one of you guys arrived. I think maybe they wanted a head count for a beer run or something later on.”

“No need to do that,” Garin said with feigned casualness. “They called me earlier and asked me to pick up the beer and some wings on my way back.” Garin leaned against the counter. “Anybody else show up after I left?”

Julie looked conflicted. “You know,” she said reaching for the phone, “I’d better call. The one guy — built kinda like you, actually — gave me a fifty just to make sure I’d call.”

Garin glided around the counter and placed his left hand gently over Julie’s as she began to pick up the receiver. “Had to be Gates,” Garin said with a knowing grin. “That SOB. He’s setting me up again, I know it. He’ll probably have some booby trap waiting for me when I come in the door. He’s got me three times in a row now. You probably wouldn’t believe it, but he had a bag full of dog crap over the transom last time. Just missed me.” Garin reached into his hip pocket with his right hand and pulled out a roll of bills. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars not to make the call.”

“Whoa,” Julie laughed, enjoying the feel of Garin’s hand on hers. “Keep the cash, cowboy. You guys throw money around like it’s free.” She raised an eyebrow. “But I do like your style. I’ll just have to think of some other way you can repay me.” She placed the receiver back in the cradle.

“Well, Julie, maybe you and I can figure something out.”

“At least you remembered my name. That’s a start.”

“Wrote it in my diary,” Garin declared with mock earnestness.

“Not ‘hot blonde with the great ass’?”

“Well, that, too.”

Julie remained standing within inches of Garin. Most guys she knew would’ve taken that as a signal to make a move, which typically consisted of some clumsy pawing of her body. It was, after all, a killer body, so who could blame them? This man did no such thing. He just gazed steadily and smiled. Not arrogantly. Confidently. But with a hint of danger.

Under different circumstances, Garin might have had similar thoughts. But he was tightly focused on his objective. His hunch had proved correct. The Quds Force operatives were, indeed, using the same cabin. And it sounded like Bor might be with them. Garin needed to get whatever relevant information he could from Julie before embarking on a course of action.

“So, Julie, how much beer and wings should I get?”

Julie, who had eased even closer to Garin, blinked, snapping back to reality.

“Oh. Well, let’s see,” she said as she returned to her desk and restarted her computer. “You know,” she said absently as she typed in her password, “your friend — Gates, I think you called him? He sure doesn’t seem like much of a prankster to me. Real serious. A little scary, actually.”

“That’s vintage Gates.” Garin smiled. “Part of the act. Always putting people on. He’s harmless, though. Even a little bit of a wimp.”

“And the other guys I’ve seen aren’t exactly rays of sunshine either,” Julie said, scrolling down the tenant register. “No offense. I know you guys go back. They just all look like they could use a good laxative.”

“Well, I guess we all grew up and got responsibilities. Got serious.” Garin shrugged. “That’s why we wanted to come out here and unwind a little.”

“And some of them looked kinda, I don’t know, foreign, you know? Just saying.”

“Probably been in the sun, out on the bay.”

Julie stopped scrolling. “Here we go. There are”—Julie counted under her breath—“fourteen.”

Fourteen. Garin had expected three or four, max. Clearly, he needed support for this operation. He didn’t know how to reach Brandt without Olivia, and he couldn’t call the FBI. Even if he could, they would take a while. Same with Dwyer. And his friend had lost several men in the last few hours. He could hardly ask him to sacrifice more men and place his organization in legal jeopardy. But Garin had no other options. He couldn’t take on fourteen Tangos by himself.

“Plus,” Julie added, “I think one or two guys brought their wives or girlfriends. They’re not on the register, but when they drove in earlier this evening, I did see a woman. Tons of really long black hair. Pretty. I’ll just register and charge them tomorrow morning.”

Olivia…

Any remaining chance Garin had to wait for the cavalry to arrive evaporated. Bor was going to interrogate Olivia about what Garin had told her and what she, in turn, had told Brandt. Then he’d kill her. Garin had no choice but to call Dwyer and hope he and his men could get here fast. But he needed to move now.

Garin thought quickly. “Thanks. Is there a place close by where I can pick up some cold beer, maybe some wings?”

Julie shut down her computer and came around the counter again. “There’s a 7-Eleven about two miles down on Choptank,” Julie said, waving in an easterly direction. “Just hang a left onto Waverly as you come out of the access road, go a half mile, and take a right onto Choptank. It’ll be on your right, next to Dumser’s Bait and Tackle. I don’t know about wings, but they’ve got frozen pizza, cold cuts, stuff like that. The 7-Eleven, that is.”

“Great. You’ve been a real help.” Garin smiled again, trying to keep up the charade of normalcy. “Is there any possibility…”

“There might be,” Julie said with a playful look. She quickly wrote her cell phone number on the back of one of the manager’s business cards lying on the counter and handed it to Garin.

“I know you probably want to catch up with your friends tonight and all. But give me a call whenever you have some time. I’m just twenty minutes away; maybe we can grab a beer.”

Garin palmed the card, smiled appreciatively, and headed for the door before turning.

“By the way, did you happen to see my buddy Julian arrive? Skinny, glasses, thin light brown hair?”

“Oh yeah, I think so,” Julie replied. “Real worried-looking? Like he’s marching to the electric chair or something? Now, that guy really could use a vacation.”

Bor had allotted six hours to interrogate Perry and Day, but he was confident he wouldn’t need the entire time. Taking Day’s measure, Bor concluded that the Senate counsel would probably be an easier subject than the woman.