A Deadly Lesson (novella). Paul Gitsham
“Thanks, Lee. I’m going to be out of the country for a few days, so contact me via e-mail if you find anything.”
While she was on the Internet she sent a brief message to AA.gov. The Athena Academy alumni Web site had been created by several Athena grads. Along with maintaining the Athena student network, they worked with the intelligence community to provide couriers. Tory did some work for them because her job provided really good cover. She had a legit reason to be in many of the world’s hot spots.
She let them know she was going to Puerto Isla, mentioned her flight number and then shut down her computer. She had to go home and pack.
Tory leaned back in her chair, crossed her booted feet and smiled to herself. This SEAL story was going to be the one to take her into the big leagues. She could feel it in her bones.
Chapter 2
“T ory Patton, please pick up the white courtesy phone. Tory Patton to the white courtesy phone.”
Tory slipped her shoes back on and then gathered her laptop case and large carry-on. Having just passed through airport security, she had about forty minutes to waste before her flight took off. She found the white courtesy phone and gave her name.
“Your mother left a message for you. You can get hepatitis from the water, so watch what you drink. And that tunnel trick is getting old. Be careful.”
“Thanks,” Tory said. “Any other messages?”
“Just that one,” the operator said with a chuckle.
Tory smiled. Her mother had called while Tory was on her way to the airport and had proceeded to give her usual safety lecture. Tory had pretended cell phone interference in the tunnel and had hung up on her. No matter how old she got, Evelyn Patton insisted on seeing Tory as about twelve. She made a mental note to call her mother from Miami. She hung up the courtesy phone, then turned and bumped into a man. He steadied her and leaned close.
“Tory Patton?”
“Who wants to know?” The guy was a little taller than she was in her two-inch heels. He had brown hair and wore a navy-blue trench coat. He subtly scanned the thin airport crowd as he held her arm.
“AA.gov.”
She edged back from the guy, surprised that he’d contacted her out in the open like this. Usually courier drops were arranged via e-mail and done without any direct contact. But she knew there hadn’t been time to set up a drop the usual way, and she assumed that this case was time sensitive.
“Can I see some ID?”
He sighed and pulled his wallet from his pocket showing her the American-eagle insignia that AA.gov used. She had the same leather card with the same insignia on it.
“Can’t be too careful these days,” she said. Rainy had always said not to trust appearances. What am I missing here, Rainy?
Tory found her old friend on her mind all the time lately. She knew it was because she still felt guilty for not being there when Rainy had called. She’d started talking to Rainy in her thoughts, as if her old mentor would somehow hear her and answer.
“There’s an envelope for you inside this newspaper. Shred the instructions before getting on the plane. You’re on a work visa, right?”
She nodded.
“Any problems, you know who to contact.” He handed her the paper and left.
Tory stood there for a minute wondering why she continued to do these jobs. She didn’t need the money the way she had when she’d been in college. But she knew in her heart that she did them because they validated all the hard work she’d done at Athena.
She tucked the paper under her arm and went to the Admiral’s Club. Her frequent-flyer status assured her entrance. She went to the bar and got a gin and tonic before finding a seat in the corner away from the sparse crowd. It was a Wednesday, so there weren’t too many people flying.
She opened the paper and Alexandra Forsythe’s brother, Bennington, smiled up at her with a woman on each arm. Tory knew that Alex was more than a little frustrated that her older brother was so…shallow. A frustration that Tory couldn’t relate to because her own brother, Derrick, was a DEA agent on the fast track to the top.
Alex was driven and didn’t understand how someone who was related by blood didn’t share that same drive. Ben said he’d been born to wealth and intended to take every advantage and opportunity that afforded him, which drove Alex crazy. But despite Ben’s playboy lifestyle, he and Alex were very close.
Was it possible that Bennington was a changeling? Wearing a white dinner jacket and a smile that half the men in Hollywood would kill for, he looked utterly charming. But Tory knew better. She’d met Alex’s brother several times, and the man had been totally annoying. He had been in the military for a short time but had said the tailoring didn’t suit him.
His hair was swept back from his forehead, and he had a look in his blue eyes that promised decadence and pleasure. The caption of the photo said it had been taken in Manhattan at a charity event sponsored by his family’s foundation.
Bennington had charisma, something that Tory had always thought was wasted on him. That kind of power should have gone to a man who would use it for more than his own ends.
She shook her head. Flipping the page, she saw the envelope. Tory glanced around to make sure no one was watching her. The tables nearby were empty. She opened the envelope. It contained a small leather pouch and a note addressed to her. Tomorrow night, Thursday, she was to meet her contact in Cabo de la Vela, a small mountain town on Puerto Isla.
The information included longitude and latitude numbers, as well as instructions for what she was supposed to wear. She was to give the contact the leather pouch and leave. She committed the information to memory.
One of the reasons Tory had come to the attention of the Athena Academy had been her photographic memory. She’d grown up in Placid Springs, Florida, a small ranching community, and the local weekly paper had done a story on Tory when she was ten, talking about how she could memorize anything and repeat it verbatim.
Entertainment had been hard to come by in those days, and Tory had been a main source for the town, which doted on the Pattons’ only daughter. Her classes at Athena had honed her photographic memory and taught her to use it for intelligence gathering. She used it in her job at the network all the time.
She folded the newspaper and slid it and the leather pouch into her large carry-on bag. Then she walked to the office area in the lounge and shredded her directions. She walked out of the lounge without a backward glance, feeling the familiar excitement pumping through her veins.
Tory met up with her cameraman, Jay, in Miami. Their flight had been delayed overnight so it was Thursday morning when they arrived in Puerto Isla’s capital, Paraiso, via an Air Mexico flight. Tory had been surprised at how crowded the flight was. Puerto Isla still had a State Department warning against travel because the new government, though more stable than the last, had yet to prove itself.
The coup four months earlier had brought an end to the reign of Diego Santiago. Alejandro Del Torro had taken power and established an interim military government. Tory had taken the time to do some Internet research on Del Torro last night in her hotel room. She’d also notified AA.gov that she’d be unable to make her courier drop until the following day.
Del Torro’s government was getting different parties in place and would be holding elections within the next six months. The U.S. had sent troops to help restore order, but the majority of them had been pulled out in the past month. Tory knew from a conversation with her brother that the DEA still had agents in Central America and Puerto Isla.
The U.S. Embassy had backed the new leader because he favored the policy of eradicating the coca-leaf plant. Tory had spoken to Juan Perez, Puerto Isla’s minister of foreign affairs, on the phone during her layover in Miami.
Minister