Incursion: The Rift - Episode Eighteen

Charles de Gaulle was swarming with agents. From her seat near gate 73 in Terminal 2D, Geneviève could count no fewer than a dozen. Some she knew, others she spotted despite their efforts to remain incognito.

There was the janitor mopping the floor and doing an uncharacteristically thorough job. A business traveller checked his email, over and over again. A young couple cuddled and fondled each other, but their hearts just didn't seem to be in it; there was no passion. And there was the mother with the baby. That was especially interesting since the woman was carrying a real child, not just a doll as would have been the practice a few years ago.

Geneviève wondered if they could spot her as easily. Even if they could, there was little she could do about it, and in a few minutes it wouldn't matter. She glanced at her watch -- nothing suspicious about a traveller waiting for a flight checking the time.

Seven minutes.

If the Toad was to intercept Leskinen before he boarded his Finnair flight, he'd have to arrive soon.

Just then another traveller sat down in the seat next to her. Geneviève gave him a quick glance and then, despite years of training, she did a double-take. Marcus, an agent from Brussels. She knew him well. What was he doing here?

A second later her cell phone buzzed. She took it out and checked the caller ID. In the second and a half it took to hit the answer button and raise the phone to her ear, a raft of reasons for this unlikely coincidence occurred to her. None of them bode well.

"Yes?"

"Come to the security office. Now."

Read Mycroft's Trial By Fear

The line clicked closed without the caller waiting for a response. Geneviève closed her phone and spent as long as she dared letting her anger build before standing up, grabbing her carry-on bag, and storming away from the waiting area. As she passed the janitor still mopping the same spot on the floor she heard him signaling that Fournier was approaching.

She didn't look back.

Geneviève managed to maintain control all the way back to the security office between the two wings of Terminal 2. Only after she had swiped her access card in the lock and stormed past the receptionist's desk into the airport security chief's office did she finally explode.

"Mon Dieu! What the hell is going on?"

The stone-faced man behind the desk looked shocked at this outburst, but the tired looking man across from him simply looked up at Geneviève and motioned to the seat beside him. "Sit down, Fausette."

Geneviève hesitated for a moment and then jerked the chair away from the desk and sat down, her arms folded tight across her chest. "Fournier is in the airport. He's here, now. I should be out there."

"This is more important," the Director told her. He handed her a folder but before letting go he turned to the security chief. "Would you excuse us for a moment?"

With an expression he might have had if the Director had just insulted his mother's fidelity, the officer stood up and stalked out of the small room, slamming his office door behind him.

"What's more important than apprehending Fournier?" Geneviève asked as she took the folder from her boss and opened it. "I've been working for months on ... "

"You see?" the Director smiled as Geneviève's mouth fell open. "I thought you would find this interesting."

"Where did this come from?" Geneviève asked. "When did you get it?"

"I received it just a few minutes ago," the Director told her. "It came in an email message from a United States federal agent. Apparently this was posted in several national American newspapers yesterday morning."

"Do they know who posted it? Surely the newspapers must have some record of payment."

The Director shook his head. "None. The Americans have made enquiries. They came up with nothing. In each case the notice was submitted by an anonymous individual and paid for in cash."

"And the text at the bottom of the page? It looks like some sort of code."

"Some sort, yes. I've already sent it on to our cryptography specialists. But I don't hold out much hope. They tell me it's a multi-key random encryption algorithm, whatever the hell that means. It may be impossible to decipher in any reasonable time."

Geneviève slumped back in her chair. "Then we know nothing more than we did before. This Carter McAllister is still a mystery."

"Not entirely," the Director told her. "The American agent that sent us the message claims to have some lead."

Geneviève sat up again. "What is it?"

The Director shrugged. "He wouldn't say. He insists that discussing it by telephone, even on a secure line, is not safe. Based on what we do know, I am inclined to agree."

"Then I should go to the United States," Geneviève said, standing.

The Director nodded. "I've already arranged your flight." He opened his briefcase and took out an airline ticket, handing it to her. "You leave within the hour."

"What about Fournier?"

"Fournier has been a thorn in our side for years and I know you are anxious to see him finally brought down. And you should. You have worked hard on this. But in the end he is little more than a petty criminal. We can handle him. This is far more important."

Geneviève nodded. "Of course." She shook the Director's hand. "Thank you, Director Durand."

"Be careful, Geneviève," the older man said, not yet letting go of her hand. "Too many have paid the ultimate price in this fiasco. I don't want you to be one of them."

Geneviève smiled. "I'll be careful, Étienne," she promised. And then, to her surprise, the Director pulled her into a fatherly embrace.

"Go," the Director told her, releasing her. "I've had a bag for you already sent through. The FBI agent, William Trask, will be waiting for you at the airport in Washington."

Jonathan Mycroft is a freelance writer and author. His latest novel, Trial by Fear, is now available as a pocket book and as a downloadable e-book from Lulu.com. Visit his website at www.jonathanmycroft.com

First   |   Previous   |   To be continued ...