CL Hart -From A Distance (5 page)

"Extended leave? You mean quit?"

"Whatever you want to call it - leave, quit, holiday... What if I want to resign? What if I've had enough? What if I want out? What happens?"

Manuck studied the grain on her dusty table and was silent for too long a time before answering. "There are proper procedures, steps to be taken, but it isn't going to happen overnight. We would have to establish an identity for you, and that takes time. We have spent a lot of time and money training you. We can't just let you leave."

"But I can get out?"

"If that's what you want, but in the meantime there are jobs that need to be done." He reached back into his briefcase for another envelope and held it out to her, waiting to see if she was going to accept it. When she didn't, he laid it on the table and pushed it toward her. "We need confirmation within forty-eight hours." He slipped the first manila envelope he had offered her back into his briefcase.

Reaching for the envelope, her hand stopped and she pulled it back as if she had been burned. "Forty-eight hours?"

"We need to - eliminate the problem - quickly." Manuck's eyes bored into hers. "And we need the best."

Kenzie finally picked up the envelope and broke the seal. The colonel watched her with interest as he clicked shut his briefcase. Kenzie pulled out the documents, perusing them quickly.

"It's a woman," she said flatly, looking at the picture of a young woman sitting on what appeared to be a park bench. The photo had obviously been taken with a telephoto lens, but Kenzie could clearly see the features of the young woman's face.

"Is it a problem?" Manuck asked. "I need to know."

Kenzie flipped through the pages, absorbing the information without even realizing it. Though the thought of killing a woman weighed heavily on her mind, she reminded herself that she was a soldier.

"Can I count on you?"

"Where?"

"Guadalajara, Mexico. There's a plane standing by."

Kenzie didn't answer him. She walked over to her bags and looked around her bare living room. There was nothing personal in the room, nothing she really cared about. How could she? She didn't exist. Aside from the judge, she had no one in her life and never had. This was not a home; it was just a place where she waited for her next assignment.

"I need an answer, LeGault," he said impatiently. "Can I count on you to eliminate this problem?"

Walking over to the fireplace mantle, she picked up the only photograph in the room. Staring into Judge Woodward's face, she spoke in a distant voice.

"Have you ever heard the fable about the frog and the scorpion?"

She didn't wait for an answer. "You see, this scorpion wants to cross this river, but he can't. He sees a frog out swimming in the river, so he asks the frog for a ride on his back. The frog says, 'No - if I give you a ride on my back, you'll sting me.' The scorpion replies, 'Why would I do that - we would both drown.' The frog thinks it over and then decides it seems safe enough, so he lets the scorpion on his back. Halfway across the river, the scorpion stings the frog and as the frog starts to sink to his death, he says to the scorpion, 'Why did you do that? Now we're both going to die.' The scorpion says, I couldn't help it - it's what I do."'

Kenzie replaced the photo, picked up her bag, and walked over to the colonel. "Of course I'll eliminate your problem. It's what I do."

Manuck stood on the tarmac and watched Kenzie's plane ascend to the skies before he climbed into his black Suburban. With one eye on the blinking taillights, he picked up his cell phone and dialed a number.

"It's Manuck. She accepted the second envelope, so I would consider the problem solved. Yes...the best man for the job."

Chapter 4

Cori Evans. The name meant nothing to Kenzie, just another notch on the butt of an imaginary gun. Still, something kept drawing her to the photo she had folded up inside her pocket. The information she'd been given was sketchy at best, but that was typical. It was her job to find the person, the patterns, and the best method of disposal, though this time is was different and she knew it. She had a deadline, and the countdown had already begun.

The plane landed on a strip that was non-military, noncommercial, and definitely nondescript, but it was Mexico. If one flew low enough and fast enough, no one was any the wiser. Kenzie glanced at her watch. "What's our evac time?"

The pilot looked at his own watch and shrugged. "Twenty-three hundred hours."

"Don't be late," she said as she climbed from the plane. The sun was high and hot by the time she reached her destination. She undid one more button of her thin white cotton blouse, thankful she had changed into her khakis. A large component of her job was to blend in, and clothes and fashion were all a part of the cover. Unfortunately, most of the time she found herself in the desert of a third world country or deep in a bug infested jungle. When the opportunity presented itself, she liked to dress up rather than down.

Her target was located in a small apartment building crowded within the bowels of Guadalajara. With a dense population of five million, there were few places one could observe unnoticed. A vacant lot situated across the street from the four-floor apartment house would have made a good place to lie in wait, but a quick examination of the area told her there was little coverage for a sniper shot. Kenzie repositioned the heavy canvas bag on her shoulder as she decided to see where Cori Evans lived before she found a spot to watch Cori Evans die.

Mexican and American music blared loudly outside and inside the apartments as Kenzie made her way down the narrow hallway. Doors opened and doors closed, but no one paid her any mind when she stopped in front of apartment 307- She knocked quietly then tried the knob. It was locked. No surprise. A quick glance left and right and Kenzie had the cheap lock picked and was quickly inside. A wave of warm air engulfed her as she closed the door behind her and looked about the room. It was basic and plain with simple furniture. There was a hint of jasmine in the air and she wondered for a brief moment if it was the woman's perfume.

Kenzie looked around the apartment. In some ways, it reminded her of her own house. It was neat and tidy, but didn't have a lived-in feel. There was no real warmth, no feeling of home. The kitchen was clean, the tables were spotless, and the door to the bedroom was open. The smell of jasmine grew even stronger as she glanced inside at the made bed. A quick, but thorough search of the room revealed little about the woman in the photograph in her pocket.

The woman's passport was taped to the underside of a dresser drawer - a predictable hiding spot. Kenzie flipped through the blank pages. Not a traveler. She looked at the lone photograph on the dresser next to a set of keys in a basket. Kenzie picked up the photograph and looked at the picture of Cori with her arms draped around an older woman.
Her mother,
Kenzie guessed.
Who are you and what are you into?
Kenzie looked at the smiling, fresh face of the young woman.
A terrorist threat? No, not likely,
she answered her own thought.
Then what? She doesn't look like the type to be starting a revolution. Maybe she's sleeping with a terrorist. Maybe
she
is the terrorist. Whatever... That's someone else's problem, not mine. I'm just here to fix it. Just do your job, soldier.

Kenzie was careful to leave the apartment just as she'd found it. She paused on the front stoop of the apartment building and looked around for her best position, somewhere high and out of sight. She scanned her options and then made her way across the street and onto the rooftop, unseen. Within minutes, her rifle was together, sighted, and ready, then she made herself as comfortable as possible. Hours passed in the heat and she felt the fatigue of the last week grow heavy on her eyelids. The Middle East and back, and now Mexico - a lot of miles and a lot of thinking. The heat radiated off the brick ledge and she did her best to ignore it, but she couldn't ignore the memories replaying in her mind. Kenzie shook her head, more to eradicate the thoughts swirling in her head than a weak attempt to stay awake.
Stay focused - stay on target.

Wiping the sweat from her face, she watched and waited, but there was no sign of Cori Evans. She checked her weapon, tweaked the sights slightly and then peered through the scope. The rim of metal rubbed against the fresh stitches on her cheek. It didn't hurt but it did remind her of what had happened on her last assignment. Repressing the memories, she pulled the picture from her pocket and then looked over the smattering of pedestrians in the area.
Cori Evans, what are you doing in Mexico? Why does someone want you dead?
The thought furrowed her brow as her fingers traced back and forth along the raised ridges of the skin on her cheek.

She reached for her bottle of water and took a long drink, then wiped the excess from her lips as she spotted her target. Cori's bright honey-colored hair contrasted sharply against the brown streets and sea of dark hair surrounding her. Dressed in a soft pastel green, cotton, sleeveless top and matching pants, Cori was easy to watch as she walked toward her apartment. She was taller than Kenzie had envisioned and a lot more athletic looking, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. She carried a bag in her arms and laughed as several of the local children playfully ran circles around her.

A deep breath in...a long breath out as Kenzie focused on her target, her finger lying in wait on the trigger of her rifle. She squeezed in the slack, then waited as Cori stopped and talked to the children. Kenzie pursed her lips in irritation as she moved her finger off the trigger. She would never fire with the children there, no matter what her training. There was time. As she watched and waited, Kenzie concentrated on her firing sequence and her escape plan. She prided herself on being the ultimate soldier - no muss, no fuss, and no screws ups. Mistakes, mental or physical, could not happen. Her training had taught her that. She was a professional, someone who killed without thought and without remorse, but... Her mind's eye took her back to where she didn't belong: that night in the desert.

Kenzie shook her head but she couldn't rid herself of the past. She had to focus, she had to get her head back in the game, but it was not a game and she knew that better than anyone. Opening her eyes, she steeled herself against any thought that might distract her. Kenzie pulled her rifle in closer, leaned into her sights, and adjusted the crosshairs. This job needed to be done. Taking a deep breath, she blew it out slowly as she brought Cori Evans back into focus.

Watching the interaction between her target and the local children, she found herself questioning the validity of her orders. There was nothing here to convince her that Cori Evans was a threat to national security, or to anyone else, for that matter.

"What the hell am I doing?" Kenzie pulled back from the scope and watched Cori enter her apartment building. Kenzie was questioning orders, something she could ill afford to do, but nothing about Cori Evans gave any indication that the woman was a threat.

Your opinion doesn't matter. You do what you're ordered to do, or people die. Get it done, LeGault. It's why you're here. You're a soldier. Now...do...your...job.

Sweat trickled down her back, and she was aware it wasn't just because of the heat, but also the pressure of her fraying ethical fiber. The voice in her head kept telling her this was wrong. Kenzie looked around the small collection of apartments and something caught her eye. A cool breeze blew over her as the sun caught the glass and reflected a flash of light from a silhouette across the way. Someone was scanning the rooftops with binoculars. What the-?

Kenzie dropped out of sight, pulling her rifle with her. She rolled away from where she had been lying, and scurried across the rooftop dragging her bag and gun. Unclipping her scope, she used it to peer over the edge of the roof.

"Where are you? Where are you? Where are you?" she whispered as she looked back and forth from window to window. The sun was now casting long shadows, as the sounds of the street below grew louder and louder in Kenzie's ears. "There."

Whoever it was had moved back into the cover of darkness deep within the room. She could make him out, but she couldn't see his features.

"Hello, and just who the hell are you? And what are you doing?" As if to answer her questions, the dark figure moved closer to the window and laid a hand on something next to it. With a slight adjustment to her scope, Kenzie could make out the long, black barrel of a rifle.