THE ANGRY DOVES
By Dorian Scott Cole
Copyright 1980, 1987, by Dorian Scott Cole
This book is copyright material, not public domain, and all rights are reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in any media. This book may not be sold or included in any collection. The reader may make a printed copy of this book for his personal use.
All characters in this book are a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental
They played the hurry up and wait game at the military base in Munich, but after much explaining about a "forgotten" passport and their being there on "official government business," Kenza finally got her visa and they could leave the base. Samuel left them and returned to the US.
They arrived at the Munich hotel after six PM, meeting Paul. He greeted Kenza politely and handed William a message.
"Samuel's office in Washington just called. They have some information for us about Kenza from British Intelligence."
"Get it, please," William said flatly and walked to the hotel room window, where he stood looking out as Paul called.
Paul phoned the office. "John, this is Paul Schaefer again. I just talked to William. Can you give me that information about Kenza? ... Yes, I know it's secret, but he asked me to get it. ... All right, I owe you one. ...
"I know you're keeping score. ... Well I knew you would mark it down somewhere, but on your secretary's behind? We'll have to compare tally sheets one of these days." William turned and gave him an impatient look.
"All right, let's have it." He wrote several lines and hung up.
William took a deep breath and turned to face Paul. The others stood waiting patiently.
"There is a person named Kenza Scheffield; maiden, Bordeaux. Husband's name was Mike Scheffield. He was an officer in the Royal Army, died in combat in the Falklands. He had a top secret security clearance, so if this is Kenza, there is little chance she is a threat."
Gerald was visibly deflated.
William relaxed a little. "Is that all?"
"In view of Mike's clearance, they want to know if you want a complete check done?"
"Yes!" Gerald answered. "It's all just a little too cutsie."
"Anything else?" William asked.
"They are sending a picture from military records for positive ID. In the meantime, identifying marks are, she's pretty and has a mole on her abdomen." He winked at William.
William looked suspiciously at Kenza. "Abdomen? Uh, oh!" William said, shaking his head.
"Let me see that," Kenza said emphatically and grabbed the paper. "Identifying marks - none!"
They all laughed, at Kenza's expense, breaking the tension.
William looked at his watch. "Ok, let's go to dinner."
At the hotel restaurant, William picked a table in a semiprivate corner away from the windows
"Can't we eat at a friendlier table?" Kenza objected.
"We have to stay out of the public eye to make sure we're not recognized by any other agents." William replied.
"Don't we even get to see the city?" Kenza asked.
Paul shook his head. "We're going to be cooped up in this hotel room, discussing this mission for days. Ain't being a secret agent fun?"
"They're everywhere, they're everywhere," Kenza said, looking under the table.
No one smiled.
"You're bloody serious, aren't you?"
Gerald looked at William. "How long?" he asked, nodding toward Kenza.
"I've been thinking about that, Gerald. Since she's here, and she's checked out, I'm going to put her to work for us here in the hotel. She's safe here, and she can't be tapped for information. She can do secretarial tasks."
Gerald glared at him. "Is that the only reason?" he asked, making a gesture indicating sexual intercourse.
William glared back. "This isn't the military, Gerald."
Gerald shrugged. "It's your funeral. You dig your own grave; you sleep in it."
"Are you going to fight me on this?" William asked, seething.
Gerald took a deep breath. "No. But I'll tell you right now, I won't..." he searched for words, "...depend... on her, so don't put us together."
"I wouldn't think of it."
"And what about this security check?" Gerald asked defiantly.
"I don't think that will be necessary."
"I figured as much." Gerald continued bitterly. "So tell me, suppose she was working for the KGB, and after she left you in Morocco sixteen years ago, having gotten all the information she could, the KGB put her in England and married her off to a British Army officer as an operative under deep cover, to spy on them."
Kenza stood up angrily. "You chauvinist bastard!" She picked up her glass of ice water and threw the water on him, from across the table.
Others in the restaurant began staring at them. William took her arm and pulled her back down. "That's exactly the kind of attention we don't need. Control yourself."
Gerald seemed pleased as he wiped himself off. "See! Don't depend on her. She doesn't know what she's doing, and she'll get us all in trouble."
Paul looked at William. "I'm afraid he has a point."
William sat back. "I'll take care of that."
Kenza seemed to regain control of herself. "Regarding sixteen years ago," she said in a very businesslike voice, I could barely speak any English at all. I could hardly "pump" William for information."
Gerald smiled a self-satisfied smile. "Everyone has to train, you know. Learn how to tease a man, lead him on, satisfy him, get him to marry you - all practice for the big part."
Kenza seethed inwardly to the point of shaking outwardly, but William could see she was restraining herself.
William looked at Gerald calmly. "And if she was a plant, do you think a thorough security check would ever show that?"
Gerald shook his head, no.
"And on that basis, I don't know that you're not a double agent either, so stow it."
"I've got instincts," he replied.
"I'm sure her husband was conveniently killed in the Falklands just so she could come back here and spy on me. That's a little too "cutsie" for me. Stow it," William said again, "or we're going to have a come to Jesus meeting right now."
Gerald picked up his water glass. "A toast... To God and Jesus. To cutsie little destinies. And to women.... Particularly to women." He made the
intercourse gesture again, and then slowly dribbled the water onto his shirt and lap and smiled for everyone. "So, I have been chastened, punished, and put in my place. God is in his heaven and all's right with the world. Ok?"
Paul chuckled and said, "The entire restaurant is staring at you, Gerald."
The table got very quiet for a few minutes, until Kenza finally said, "I need some clothes. I can't very well wear this black outfit all the time. I look like some sort of Ninja warrior or something."
Paul stifled a chuckle. William smiled.
"C'mon, William. This is a sexually integrated operation now," Gerald said sarcastically. "You've got to provide facilities for the other half."
They all laughed.
"And I only have three dollars with me," Kenza added with a smile.
"There you go, Paul," William said. "She's only been on payroll for fifteen minutes, and already she wants paid."
"Nooooo." Paul replied. "She wants youuuu to pay for them."
Kenza smiled triumphantly. "And I want Gerald to come shopping with me." She glared across the table at him.
Gerald glared back.
Later that evening, William took Kenza shopping. As she tried on clothes, he found himself wondering about her former husband. "So, did Mike ever take you shopping for clothes?"
She frowned. "Be serious. Mike was like Gerald. Could you see Gerald in the ladies department?"
William laughed. "So what kinds of things did he do with you?"
"Make war. That was all he knew. He was a chemical weapons specialist. Since I had a background in chemistry, that's mostly what we talked about. I
helped him experiment with ways to deploy chemicals." She paused and held William's gaze, looking troubled. "I hate myself for that. I hope none of it is ever used against people."
William smiled and kissed her cheek.
They finished their shopping and returned to the hotel. As they entered the lobby, Kenza gasped and shrank backward, pulling William with her. From the shadows of the entry, she pointed to a man sitting in the lobby with his back to them, reading a paper. "It's him! Andrei."
He pulled her out the door and into the street. He walked around the building to look in another window. He got a partial side view and realized she was right.
"What now?" she asked.
"We wait and see what he is doing there." William watched and saw Andrei, and a man checking in at the counter, take an occasional glance at each other. "I think he and the man at the registration counter are together. Andrei is keeping watch, and I think they may be checking in. I need to find out who that man is with him. Quickly, go through the far end of the lobby to the stairs. Describe the men to Paul and send him to the lobby. Tell him to encounter the man and find out what language he speaks... tell him to bump into him."
Kenza move surreptitiously to the stairs, and a few minutes later Paul appeared. He took a seat near the registration desk and began to read a magazine. As the two turned to leave the desk, Paul rose, still engrossed in his magazine, and let the man run into him. The man uttered some words, and Paul moved out of the way. Paul then requested some change from the cashier as Andrei and the other man picked up their bags and took the elevator to their floor.
William joined Paul and the two took the stairs up. "What language did he speak?" William asked.
"I'm not sure. He said a few words that sounded German - definitely not Russian, and then changed to English."
As they entered the hotel room, Kenza greeted them apprehensively. "How did Andrei find you so quickly?"
"He may have had you followed and saw the plane leave. They could follow it on radar and have us followed from the base here."
Gerald gave William an 'I told you so' look.
"What's this mean?" Paul asked.
"It means the KGB knows were up to something different and they're not going to give up until they find out what it is."
"Why did you want to know who the other guy is?" Gerald asked.
"The KGB has various types of people they work with, depending on what they intend to do. That man is probably Hungarian, and they're not as ethical as the KGB. They don't hesitate to torture or kill to get what they want."
Everyone was quiet, understanding the implications.
William broke the silence. "We're moving, immediately. Paul, slip out to the suburbs and rent us another car. Use a different ID. We'll meet you six blocks south of here. Gerald, you take our luggage and take a cab. Go to another hotel and go inside. Call a cab and have the Bellman deliver your bags to a rear exit. In the new cab, make sure you're not followed, and then meet Paul. Kenza and I will slip out a back exit and walk to meet Paul."
"What about Kenza?" Gerald asked. "Does she stay with us?"
"I'll have Cecil pick her up and keep her in a safe house until we've completed the mission."
Gerald smiled triumphantly.
They traveled to Hamburg, confident that they had lost Andrei. By late next morning, they were well into making their plans. William had arranged for one of Cecil's CIA operatives to pick Kenza up that evening. He had allowed Kenza to stay in the room with them, and she had taken on a secretarial role.
The men were joking with Kenza in a conciliatory way, actually seeming to enjoy her presence. William was standing, sometimes pacing, orchestrating the meeting. Paul was sitting forward, engrossed, sipping his tenth or fifteenth cup of coffee, while Gerald sat back confidently on the sofa, legs crossed and arms resting on the sofa back. Kenza was perched on a desk chair, taking notes.
Ok, Kenza, read your list. What do we have so far?"
She flipped back a few pages in her steno pad. "The area is semi-arid to arid. Poor roads. Off road. Some hills - rugged ones. We'll use a six passenger, half ton pickup, beat up looking, and old paint. Four wheel drive, tandem rear end with oversize all terrain tires, oversize radiator, transmission cooler, new electrical system with heavy duty generator for auxiliary power, duel fuel tanks with armor plating, series mufflers for quiet, and bullet proof mesh on the radiator."
Paul snorted. "Sounds like the typical military style request for a new vehicle - one that does everything. All you need is a snowplow and winch on the front. We could run a cable around the camp, winch the tents down, and then cover them up with sand."
"Not a bad idea," Gerald laughed. "Write it down, Kenza."
Kenza continued. "Cover story, you're an oil company survey crew, since there are a number of oil pipelines through the area."
"Ok, let's tackle weapons next. I want to keep everything as nonviolent as possible. Partly because that's the way it should be, and partly because the best way to start an international incident is to kill someone, even if only in self defense. We want to avoid that if at all possible."
"That's a hard one," Paul responded. "You just can't go in there without some kind of protection. But if you have a gun..." he shrugged, "someone is going to get shot."
William looked at Gerald. "Any ideas, weapons specialist?"
"Rubber bullets?" he answered sarcastically.
William smiled. "Not quite what I had in mind. We need to defend ourselves - stop them, even kill them - if necessary. But a .38 isn't very discriminating."
I haven't really been the nonviolent type," Gerald said matter-of-factly. "But I do know of one weapon that might fit the bill. A laser weapon."
Paul whistled. "High tech stuff."
"Is anything actually available?" William asked.
"I could pull some strings. I used them in Viet Nam. Evaluated them. Mostly for security. The Army isn't sold on them for combat, but they work. If you like, I can arrange a demonstration at a local US Army installation."
Ok, let's check them out," William agreed.
"Now, we need a plan to get into that camp." William laid the photos of the camp on a center table, and they gathered round to see them.
"Who is this?" Kenza asked, pointing to the picture of the man with the sword.
"We believe he's Ishmail's right hand man," William replied.
"Is he dangerous? He looks dangerous with that sword."
Gerald looked at her with a half smile. "Yes, he is. He killed an Arab
agent." He made a slashing move. "Whacked off his head with that sword."
"I thought swords went out with swashbuckling pirates. You're kidding, aren't you?"
Gerald smiled. "Tell her I'm not kidding, William."
William shook his head. "Swords are quiet. Terrorists often like knives and such things for killing."
"But you won't have to get close to that man, will you? And there are three of you."
Gerald looked at William expectantly. William returned his glance, considering whether to tell Kenza the full plan. He knew she would learn it soon enough.
"The plan is for one of us... er me actually, to sneak in there and get their papers so we can learn what they are up to."
Kenza recoiled with horror. "You... you might get caught. I... I thought this was a peacekeeping mission - that you wanted to make contact with this man and get him to work for you."
William took a deep breath. "We do. But he's a terrorist, and isn't likely to tell us his plans, so we have to find them out first. And then, if he won't work with us, we'll have to put his little training camp out of business so he doesn't continue to destabilize the area."
Kenza shuddered and looked at William apprehensively. "Oh, dear God!" she said. "What if something goes wrong? You could be killed."
"It's got to be done, babe," William replied gently.
"So, what's a good terrorist camp have in it?" Paul asked, changing the subject.
Kenza sat back quietly for a while.
"Barracks tents, mess tent - if it's big enough - ammo dump." Gerald answered.
"One of the structures is wood." Paul continued. "Looks to be about six feet wide by about four feet deep."
"Probably the ammo dump," William suggested. "What we want to do is watch the camp and identify which tent is Ishmail's, or which tent he uses as his headquarters. That's the tent we want to sneak into to photograph information.
And then we'll... I'll... check out the contents of the rest of those buildings."
"Maybe we could distract them," Paul suggested. "Get them to leave the area and go in there while they are gone."
"Do you have any good distractions?"
"If we could get to their drinking water, we could make them sick, or give them all diarrhea. That's been done before."
"What if they don't leave?" Kenza asked. "What if they all just lay around the camp."
Paul shrugged. "I guess that's no good. Besides, they have three roving patrols with dogs."
"We could set the place on fire and shoot in a few mortars. That might drive them out," Gerald suggested.
"That would burn up all of the information. Maybe we could gas them somehow. Keep them all asleep at night."
"Yes, that's good," Paul agreed.
"Nah." Gerald disagreed. "Too many variables to control in a well ventilated area. If the wind blows through the tent, some of them would never get the gas. And then there's the three roving patrols. How would you gas them?
"Do you have anything better?" William asked. Quiet followed.
Kenza stepped to the window and stared at the street below. After a
moment she turned around. "I know of a gas that will do the job for you."
Gerald gave her an incredulous look.
"Have you ever used gas, Gerald?" Kenza asked.
Gerald shook his head.
"Do you know if you don't do it right, you might kill them?"
Gerald gave her a patronizing look.
Kenza continued. "It's possible to cover a wide area - saturate it - and then keep them anesthetized through a slow release."
Gerald looked at the ceiling. "Frigging women think they run the whole frigging world. Can we move on now?"
"Her late husband was an expert in chemical warfare," William stated.
"So that makes her an expert?" Gerald asked.
"Let's hear what she has to say."
Kenza continued. "If you think this is the best way to go, I can put the gas into a containment and release system for you. That will cut down on your delays, and I'll know you are using something dependable."
"I don't believe this," Gerald said angrily. "She can't possibly know enough about it to make it work. I won't depend on her."
William ignored him. "How would you release it?"
"Valves, heat, evaporation - depends on what you want."
"How would you heat it?" Paul asked.
"Perhaps with a chemical reaction. Then you have a sustained flow of ether into the tents, or wherever, anesthetizing them during the entire operation."
"Might work," William said.
"Just one thing," she continued. "I will have to go with you near their camp."
"Ridiculous!" Gerald yelled, jumping to his feet.
"Absolutely not!" Paul stated sharply. "Even I don't want to go."
William shook his head. "It's too dangerous. We can take care of that ourselves."
She continued calmly. "It can't be mixed ahead of time because it would all evaporate. If you make a mistake, you might blow yourselves up, or put yourselves to sleep. You also might mix it improperly and kill most of the camp. Someone familiar with chemistry would have to be there. Which one of you is a chemist?"
Gerald sat down. "Let's find another way."
Kenza smiled at them. "You could train me, you know."
Gerald took a pillow from the sofa and angrily threw it across the room.
The clock tower opposite the window struck twelve, getting Kenza's attention. "Isn't that just like the Germans?" Kenza asked, drawing attention to the window.
"What?" Paul asked, joining her.
"Just the kind of thing the Germans are noted for. Look at the people - mechanical figures - chasing each other around the clock tower. I've been so busy I missed that."
"Their sausage is not bad, either," Paul said, pointing out a shop on the street. "I think I can smell it up here."
Gerald crowded into the window with them. "There's a Grundig shop down there I wouldn't mind visiting. I've been wanting a new stereo receiver."
Kenza looked back at William. "Hamburg looks like a beautiful old city."
"No sight seeing," William said firmly.
"What if I pout?"
Paul laughed aloud. "C'mon, slave driver. Have a heart."
They ordered dinner and continued working. By five o'clock they had worked out a number of details, but had no ideas better than using the gas, as Kenza described.
"Kenza, you're staying with us for another day, until we get things worked out," William said to her. "Everyone pack up. We're moving."
Later that evening they stopped for dinner in a small hamlet. Next door to the restaurant was a night club. Kenza and Paul eyed the night club wistfully.
William got the message. He sighed. "It looks like we all need to have some fun... but..."
The club was a mixture of young adults and adults, with loud rock music by a live band. They took a table and ordered drinks.
Paul nodded toward the dancers. "I wish... "
"Go on. We won't laugh." Gerald prodded him.
"Nature has a way of reorganizing people as they age," Paul objected. "They don't look like those lithe bodies out there anymore."
"Yes," Kenza agreed. "Their chests slowly sink into their mid section giving them sunken chests and pot bellies," she said, dramatizing with her hands.
"You're awfully sassy for a stowaway," Paul shot back.
Kenza's eyes sparkled. She was obviously enjoying herself, and they were enjoying her. William wanted her all to himself. "C'mon, let's dance," he said to her.
They began dancing, doing old dances they were familiar with, and picking up new things from the people around them. On the third dance, Gerald somehow got Paul to cut in.
Paul, being tall and thin, with a pot belly, resembled Ichabod Crane, and danced with all the grace of Ichabod furiously riding a horse to escape the headless horseman. His legs wide apart, as in the karate horse stance he alternately lifted them and put them down. His arms spread widely, pointed frontward, looked for all the world like he had reigns in his hands, and his body did an up and down motion in time to the fast music, while his head moved forward and back to the beat.
Kenza politely refrained from smiling, but Gerald couldn't contain himself. He leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud. Paul thought he was doing well, and added a sideways hop to every fourth beat. Kenza refrained from hopping, but turned toward him as he moved.
A circle was beginning to clear around Paul, as other dancers began to stare. Paul thought they were admiring his dancing form and began even stranger gyrations, his hips moving forward and back with his head, and his arms flailing in all directions. Somehow he managed to hold all the motions together in comedic harmony.
Some in the crowd began to snicker, thinking it was a joke. Gerald laughed so hard he nearly slid under the table. Paul caught sight of Gerald laughing hysterically. He stopped dancing immediately and just stood there, looking at Gerald. He looked around and became embarrassed. Then he got angry. He stalked toward Gerald, muttering curses, murder in his eye. Gerald continued laughing helplessly. Paul reached the table with Kenza directly behind, and with the crowd staring at him, waiting expectantly.
The band stopped playing. Gerald continued laughing, holding his sides, unable to control himself. Paul picked up a glass of beer. William shook his head, no. Kenza nodded her head, yes.
Paul looked at William. William was mouthing the words no, and shaking his head. Paul looked at Gerald, laughing hysterically. Kenza nodded her head, yes. Paul picked up another glass of beer. The crowd caught on. They began nodding their heads, yes. William shrugged. Paul dumped the beers on Gerald's head. The crowd cheered.
Paul sat down and things returned to normal. The band, having been upstaged, took a break.
As Gerald wiped the beer from himself, he asked drolly, "Do you still wish you could dance, Paul?"
"You're going to regret this," Paul said hotly.
William looked at them with a smile. "I can't take you people anywhere. None of you know how to act in public. We try to be inconspicuous, and you guys go out and draw a crowd."
Kenza looked under the table. "They're everywhere, they're everywhere."
Gerald began laughing again. "By god, she's right. We take this all too seriously. Always hiding in the frigging closets! What a weird bunch of people." He continued in unrestrained laughter.
William saw the humor and began laughing. "I can just see it now. When you get back to your Green Beret friends, they'll ask, 'What did you do for the State Department?' 'Oh we hid in closets, and for fun we poured beer on each other's heads."
"At night we looked under beds and tables for spies," Kenza added.
"And looked in beds for spies," Gerald added, pointing at Kenza.
Paul cracked a smile, then laughed, and finally, indicating his dancing, laughed at himself.
Next: Chapter 10