Ultimate Power (3 page)

“Do you mind telling me what this is about?” she asked.

One of the men turned to her and smiled. He had a long, thin nose, thin wisps of hair combed haphazardly across his scalp. His silken tie sat skew, he hadn’t had much time to prepare for the meeting. “Captain Guerra,” he said and stuck out a neatly manicured hand. “My name is Henrie Dumas, Military Attaché in the office of the President.“
 

She nodded.

“This is Major Jacques Baptiste from the Intelligence Services,” he said, nodding towards the large man to his side. The man stuck out a hand. She shook it, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

“We have received news that General Alain Laiveaux has been kidnapped,” Baptiste said.

The news hit her like a punch to the stomach.” Kidnapped? When?” Her hand flew to her heart. “Where is my daughter?”

The man forced a nervous smile. “She is safe. She’s with Lieutenant Latorre at the Presidential Palace.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure, we will find out once we arrive at the Palace. All that I know is that Latorre phoned the DRM and they in turn notified the President.”

Her hand tightened around her safety belt. “Voelkner and Latorre better have a good excuse for losing the General. They were assigned to protect him.”

She chewed her lip. This was bound to happen. She had told Laiveaux that he needed to be careful, but he would shrug it off like he was untouchable. He had information that many underground organizations would kill for. He had many enemies. Shit.

Dumas clutched his safety belt as the vehicle skidded around a corner. Once the car straightened out, he shifted in his seat and straightened his tie. “Your colleague, Sergeant Allen is in custody in South Africa.”

“What?”

“They’re keeping him for questioning. Apparently, he was involved in a hostage drama on a plane. Details are sketchy.”

“Hostage drama?” Alexa asked incredulously.

The man lifted his shoulders.

She closed her eyes and dropped her chin on her chest, massaging her temples. She could feel the onset of a migraine, a condition she had never suffered from before. “What have they gotten themselves into this time?” she asked to no-one in particular.

The man chuckled nervously. He cleared his throat and looked straight ahead when Alexa glared at him.

Bloody men.

They sped through an arched metal gateway that was probably made during the previous century, then drove into a massive graveled square. A vast three-story palace had been built around the square, the building had once been the abode of Kings and Queens, but it was currently occupied by the President of France. Alexa felt dwarfed by the magnificent structure, wondering if the President had the entire building all to herself.

An old man with a smartly dressed suit met them at the door. Bowing, he said, “Please follow me.” He led them through an opulent passageway with dark red carpets and walls decorated with golden moldings and cornices. Portraits of famous statesmen hung in ornate frames on the walls, Maurice Rouvier, Napoleon Bonaparte, Charles de Gaulle and many more she didn't recognize.
 

The old man scurried along the passageway at a brisk pace. He walked slouched forward, his arms pedaling at his sides, reminding Alexa of the hunchback of Notre Dame. He stopped next to a doorway and pulled it open, ushering them inside.

The room looked like a large office with a spacious lounge to one side. Portraits of French battles decorated the wall. Alexa recognized the Battle of Camarón. The history of the battle had been engraved into every Legionnaire's subconscious, being considered one of the most important battles in Legionnaire history.

On 30 April 1863, sixty-five French Legionnaires battled a three thousand strong Mexican army for the entire day. When the survivors were finally captured, the Mexican commander, Colonel Milán, was in such awe of the soldiers that he allowed them safe passage home with the words, “What can I refuse to such men? No, these are not men, they are devils.” The Legion had celebrated that date every year since.

Alexa gazed at the plush furnishing and unfettered show of opulence. All the gold inlays and tassels and thick velvet curtains were over the top. The room was filled with large shelves with books that looked like they had never been opened. In the corner of the room stood an easel with a yet to be finished portrait of Nicole Rue, the President of France.
 

A scrabble board lay on the coffee table. Several words were spelled out, it looked as if the game had been abandoned halfway through. A pair of thick framed reading glasses lay on top of the board.
 

The butler offered them drinks from a fancy cabinet. Alexa asked for a glass of cognac; she needed to calm her nerves. The other men ordered still water.
 

A tall, slender woman bounced into the room. Nicole Rue. Alexa had seen her on television, but never in real life. She had only been elected three months ago.

The news that France would have a female President came as a surprise to Alexa. French politics was a world dominated by chauvinism. But if what she had read in the papers were true, this woman was tough as nails, a real battle axe.

She had reddish brown shoulder-length hair and her make-up was immaculate. She was dressed in a practical pair of grey slacks and a loose-fitting white blouse.

“Lady, gentlemen,” she said with a slight nod of her head. She waved to the couches. “Please, take a seat.” They sat down and made themselves comfortable.

The President remained standing. She put her hands together. “Thank you for coming at such short notice. Here is what we know.” She held her hands together, moving them up and down as she spoke energetically. “At 18:02 this evening, the Director of Interpol's SIU, General Alain Laiveaux was kidnapped. One of the men assigned to guard him was killed.”

Alexa placed a hand over her heart. “Who?”

President Rue turned to her and pursed her lips. “Captain, if you allow me a chance to speak—“

Alexa stood up. “General Laiveaux is the godfather to my daughter. Latorre and Voelkner are close colleagues. Which one was it?”

The President of France frowned. “Reg Voelkner.”

Alexa sat back down, almost falling into the seat. She sat there, staring blankly ahead. She felt numb and drained, like an invisible hand was pushing down on her, trying to force her deeper into the couch.

President Nicole Rue kept quiet for a moment, studying Alexa, seemingly uncertain on how to continue. “I’m sorry, Captain. I didn't know you were close to these men.”

Alexa looked up. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably so she clutched them into her armpits. “I’m sorry.” She swallowed. “Please continue.”

The President of France pursed her lips. “Lieutenant Latorre gave us a description of the men. He was certain that they were from somewhere in the Middle East. They spoke Arabic. But the rest is sketchy.”

“Is my daughter here?” Alexa asked.

“Yes, she is,” the President said and glanced at the butler.
 

The man gave a curt nod and returned a moment later with Latorre. He held Yumi in his arms and put her down on the ground. Alexa pushed herself wearily off the chair as Yumi bounded to her and leapt into her arms. “Grandpa is gone,” she whispered, pushing a teary cheek into Alexa's neck.

Latorre walked closer and hugged them both. Alexa felt his body jerk spasmodically as he cried. “I’m so sorry Captain, there was nothing I could do. The general ordered me to keep Yumi safe,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Alexa hugged him. “I know, Lieutenant. I'm sorry.”

President Rue stood with her hands clasped together, lips pursed. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, but I'm new to this.” She turned to Dumas and Baptiste who were watching the drama impassively. “What do we do now, gentlemen?”

Henrie Dumas stood up. “Well, I think we better send a memo to all the security—“

Alexa pushed Latorre away and marched over to Nicole Rue, Yumi on her hip. “We need to get Colonel Bruce Bryden and Sergeant Allen up here, right away.” She turned to Dumas. “Now that Laiveaux is gone, who's taking over his duties?”

The man frowned. “I guess I am.”

Alexa shook her head. “No. You're an admin guy. The Director of Interpol's SIU has a more hands-on approach.” She smiled apologetically. “With all due respect, Mr. Dumas, you wouldn't last a day.”

The man shrugged.

Alexa turned back to President Rue. “I suggest we assign Colonel Bryden as the temporary head of the SIU until General Laiveaux returns. Bruce has the right contacts to get the job done, and him and Laiveaux have worked together on most of the cases that Interpol had handled in the past.”

“Bryden?” President Rue asked, turning to the two men with a frown.

“Colonel Bruce Bryden, Mossad,” Dumas answered. “Laiveaux is grooming him to take over his position.”

Alexa nodded, tapping her lip with a forefinger. “He's probably not as charming as the General, but he's the best qualified for the job.”

“What's his background?” President Rue asked.

“Counter-terrorism, he's a Shin Bet agent,” Alexa answered.

The President turned to her, folding her arms. “And how do you know all of this?”

“Because he's my dad.”

President Nicole Rue raised her eyebrows.
 

“We need to get Mossad involved, the sooner the better. We need to contact Major Sal Frydman, head of military intelligence.” She fumbled in her pocket. “I’ll give him a call.” Her head was spinning. “Then we need to mobilize the French Foreign Legion. If they were Arabian, its most likely al-Qaeda or some of their cronies.”

“But shouldn't we contact the ambassadors of the countries and ask them to mobilize their own security forces?” President Rue asked.

Alexa shook her head. “Madam President, do you know what the Director of Interpol's Special Investigation Unit does?”

She bit her lip, cast a questioning look at Dumas. “I guess he liaises with international agencies, coordinates the different task forces.”

Dumas smiled apologetically and shook his head. “I’m afraid Madam President has not been briefed on the SIU yet, her tenure—“

Alexa grabbed the President's arm. “Madam President, almost no-one knows, but I would have expected your military attache to have explained the…,” she hesitated. “Sensitive nature of our role.”

President Rue turned to face Alexa, her arms folded over her chest. “Are you a member of this SIU as well?”

Alexa nodded curtly then continued. “Not many people realize how important Laiveaux is to world safety.” She put Yumi down and glanced at Latorre. He took the girl's hand and led her outside.

“He has single-handedly wiped out drug cartels, child smuggling rings.”

“What is the SIU's brief?” President Rue asked, turning to Dumas.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “They're an undercover organization using resources at the disposal of Interpol to combat subversive, non-military organizations that pose a threat to world peace.”

President Rue ran her hand through her hair. “Which means?”

“They're a death squad which uses what the President of Interpol likes to refer to as D.I.A. to achieve their objectives,” he said, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

“D.I.A?” President Rue asked.

“Double India Alpha,” Alexa said. “Infiltrate, Investigate, Annihilate.”

“You're assassins?” President Rue asked, a disgusted look on her face. “What the hell is Interpol doing with an undercover agency that goes around killing—“

“Interpol is a toothless dog!” Dumas exclaimed. He pursed his lips and took a deep breath. “Sorry for my outburst, Madam President.”

President Rue's eyes narrowed but she kept quiet.

Duma pursed his lips. “After a while, people in our…,
position
, we realize that Interpol does not have the necessary powers to combat the scourge of drug dealers, child trafficking rings, weapon smugglers and the indubitable cornucopia of psychopaths running the sickening criminal underbellies of society. People who mean to harm the moral fibers that bind us together in a civilized and moral whole.”

President Rue flopped down on a sofa with a sigh and folded one leg over the other. “Enough with the philosophy lecture, Dumas. I guess I always knew that these…,” she waved an agitated hand, “organizations, existed somewhere. I didn't realize that they were operating right under our noses.”

Dumas sat down beside her. “Madam President, do you think that the governments of the world are willing to wage a war on any man or organization that doesn't promote their own political well-being?”

“If they reaped the benefits—“

“Would you?” Alexa asked. “Or would you rather be content with the knowledge that there is an organization fighting these atrocities while your military and police services deal with the battles that are in the public eye?”

“Battles which could score me political points?” the President asked with a wry smile.

Alexa shrugged. “If I were to be caught or die in the process of performing my duties,” Alexa looked straight at the President, “fulfilling my sworn duty of making this world a safer place for Yumi and your children to grow up in, I can promise you that everyone who had any knowledge of our operation would plead ignorance.”