The Council of Ten (19 page)

All the workers were garbed in rubber body aprons, boots, and gloves. A few wore earmuffs to block out the piercing sounds of the machines. To this Ellie would have added nose plugs to block out the pungent fish odor that all these workers must have somehow gotten used to.

Ellie started back for San Anton Island, only to return at nightfall to take up her vigil. She had been in the shadows for three hours now, hidden between two discarded, burned out shells of former ships where no eyes could find her. She was beginning to wonder if she might have to spend the whole night there when the dim lights of a taxi strained through the dark.

Lefleur’s guard responded to the door after the third soft knock. The woman outside, holding a thin jacket over her head to shield it from the rain, looked to be a bit better than his employer’s usual fare. She smiled at him seductively, bright lips dancing. The man grunted and beckoned her to enter.

Elliana stepped through the door with her eyes never leaving the man. Keep your eyes on someone, she knew, and they will see you for just what they expect you to be without further scrutiny. Her entire plan had been based on the hope that Lefleur received a prostitute every night, proven right when a colorfully dressed woman in high heels had slid from the backseat of the taxi just minutes before.

As the whore passed by her hiding place in the shadows, Ellie sprang and gripped her from behind, jamming her right thumb into the soft flesh beneath the woman’s chin. The effect was to cause her intense pain but, more importantly, to silence her long enough for Ellie to locate her carotid artery and squeeze for forty seconds, denying the brain its oxygen supply. The whore was out after twenty, but Ellie maintained the pressure for twice that to make sure her sleep would last well into the night. Risky, for permanent brain damage could result, but nonetheless necessary. Then she took the whore’s place on the walk and continued around the building to the front door.

Her eyes continued to tease the guard as he preceded her toward the steps leading hopefully to Lefleur’s bedroom. A second guard stood at the top, a giant twin of the first, but with dark hair. These two were certain to cause problems for her. Yesterday’s whore had spent the entire night, probably the common practice. How, then, could she leave the building without drawing attention after completing her business with Lefleur? She would cross that bridge later. The thing now was to get Lefleur to talk.

“You new?” the dark-haired guard at the top of the stairs asked her, eyes wary.

“First time here,” Ellie returned in the same Spanish dialect, doing her best to imitate the local accent. “But I’m hardly new.”

“I have to search you.”

Ellie winked and tossed him a smile. “Get your jollies, eh?”

She dropped her handbag and raised her arms. The flimsy dress she had bought that afternoon clung to her breasts and sides. The guard patted her up and down with surprising tenderness. His hands lingered for a second on her well-formed breasts.

“The boss will like these,” he quipped.

“Finished?” Ellie asked him, tossing her head so her thick auburn hair flipped back.

The guard ruffled through her handbag and then angled his hand toward the nearest door. “Go right in. I’ll hold on to this for you.”

Ellie did as she was told. The handbag had been meant as a distraction; there was nothing inside she had intended to make use of. The guard closed the door behind her and the smell of the room assaulted her immediately—stale fish and oils mixing with perspiration. Lefleur lay face-up on a huge bed in the rear of the room, naked to the waist. His midsection was huge and misshapen, lifting upward with each breath. He pressed out a cigarette and sat up.

“Right on time,” he smiled. “I like that.”

Ellie tilted her lips seductively but didn’t speak.

Lefleur pushed himself from the bed. His eyes widened as he looked her over.

“Do I know you?”

Ellie opened her blouse. Her large breasts came free.

“Would you like to?” she asked.

Lefleur moved toward her. He was barefoot. Ellie couldn’t tell if the awful smells were from the room or if they came from him. She fought not to be sick. The man revolted her, hairy everywhere.

He grasped her shoulders and squeezed as if to size her up. He nodded, apparently satisfied. Then his mouth was coming forward and Ellie maneuvered hers to join it. She focused on other thoughts, like the questions she would soon be asking him, fighting to keep her mind from what she was doing.

Lefleur’s tongue swept about her mouth like a snake. She used her own against it for self-defense more than anything. His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them to the point of pain.

She separated herself forcefully.

“Don’t be rough,” she giggled, teasing him with another smile.

She took his hand and led him to the bed. Lefleur followed along like a willing puppy, yapping at her every move. It was so easy to manipulate weak men with sex. They were so vulnerable, especially to women who had been trained to use it as a weapon. Mossad female operatives received routine courses in such areas. When your life or the lives of others were at stake, nothing could be spared. You did what you had to. Anything.

Lefleur was on top of her now, his head buried in her chest, his tongue alternately licking at each nipple. She had to have him totally distracted; she couldn’t risk a sudden scream from his mouth when she acted. Her hands slid across his hairy belly for the snap and zipper of his trousers. Taking a deep breath to steel herself, she grasped him and began to fondle and stroke. First with both hands, then with just one.

Lefleur moaned and sank his head deeper against her. The pressure hurt. His arms squeezed her tight from behind, nails digging into her skin.

Ellie kept fondling, the flesh in her hand hard and pulsing. She could feel him submit totally to her. Her free hand roamed to her hair and removed a small three-inch blade as sharp as a scalpel.

It was time.

Her hand moved for his testicles and she squeezed just hard enough to make him gasp, as she brought her body up and around. With that, he was suddenly beneath her, their positions switched, his face contorted in pain but missing the air needed to cry out.

Elliana made sure he saw the blade as she drew it up against his throat.

“I’m going to release your balls now,” she said coldly. “Scream and I’ll cut your throat.”

Lefleur didn’t scream. His erection had gone limp, but he was too terrified to notice.

Ellie was about to speak when he did.

“They sent you, didn’t they?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. They must want something. Otherwise I’d already be dead.”

“Shut up!”

“No,” he wheezed from the pressure of the blade against his throat. “I did what I was told. I followed through with all of the shipments just as instructed.”

Lefleur met Ellie’s eyes and his lips trembled when he grasped their puzzlement.

“My God, they didn’t send you… .”

“What shipments?” Ellie demanded, seizing the advantage.

“Where are you from? Why are you here?”

She drew a speck of blood from the tip of the blade. “What shipments?”

“I can’t tell you. I’ll be killed if I do.”

“You’ll be killed if you don’t.” Ellie applied more pressure on the knife and a steady trickle began to slide from the wound.

“N-No, wait! I’ll talk. There were fourteen shipments made, maybe fifteen.”

“Which?”

“I’m not sure. Years, they happened over years.”

“How many?”

“Four-and-a-half, almost five.”

Ellie found herself intrigued. This was not the information she had come for, but clearly it was important, possibly even connected to the greater picture.

“What did the shipments contain?”

“I don’t know. I swear I don’t,” Lefleur pleaded. “I never examined them. Those were the orders, not to be violated under any circumstances. Just check their weights for the manifest and send them on their way. Two hundred pounds always, almost exactly.”

“How were they shipped?”

“By boat, always by boat. Instructions again.”

“To where?”

“The Bahamas. Various ports. Never the same one twice.”

Ellie realized she was breathing hard. “Very good. Keep this up and I might let you live.”

Lefleur was breathing even harder, in short rapid heaves as if afraid too great a breath would force the blade through his throat.

“Now let’s talk about the transport planes. How many of those have you obtained?”

Lefleur looked up at her strangely, as if confused by the track of her questions.

“Answer!”

“One hundred with a request for twenty more.”

“A hundred and twenty transport planes? For what?”

“I don’t know. I swear it!”

“Men like you never go into anything blind.” And once again Ellie increased the pressure on the blade’s edge.

“All right. All right. Many people are being moved at the same time. To America.”

“With hostile intentions?”

Lefleur would have nodded if not for the knife. “The indications are there.”

“A hundred and twenty planes are going to drop hostile troops in for an invasion
past all of America’s defenses?
” Ellie posed disbelievingly.

“No,” Lefleur rasped. “The defenses will be down. They will no longer pose a problem.”

“We’re talking about billions of dollars worth of surveillance and defensive systems. Thousands of personnel on duty always.”

Lefleur’s eyes were pleading. “I’m telling you what I know, what I’ve gathered. It’s the truth!”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to.”

Something occurred to Ellie. “Those shipments to the Bahamas, were they connected in any way to the transports?”

“No. Of course not. How could they?” Lefleur’s eyes gazed downward.

“They were! I can tell. Lie again and you die!”

“It isn’t much,” Lefleur relented. “Please, my air—I can’t breathe. The blade, move it away a little.” After Ellie obliged, he continued. “The shipments were all sent by private courier from the town of Berga in the Catalonian province. The name of the street was Farguell, sixteen or eighteen, I’m not sure which.”

“So?”

“The calls requesting progress reports on the transports often originated in Berga. I traced them. Only as far as the town, though. The individual exchanges were impossible to obtain.”

Ellie barely heard him, so great was the thudding of realization in her mind. Lefleur had provided her with a concrete location for the Council, a small town in Spain where contact had been made. And the transport planes. Annatoly had suspected a strike against America was planned, an invasion even. Now this had been confirmed, along with the fact that America’s defenses would be down to permit it. But how could the strategic armaments of such a power all be lowered at the same time? Might it have something to do with those shipments Lefleur made to the Bahamas? Too many questions …

“You’re going to lead me out of here now,” Ellie told him, yanking his huge frame from the bed with the knife still pressed against his throat.

“There’s no need for th-th-that,” Lefleur stammered. “I swear.”

Ellie acted as if she hadn’t heard him. She dragged the Frenchman across the floor to the door and stopped.

“Once we’re in the corridor, one word to your guards to do anything but stay back and I’ll cut your throat. Understand?”

Lefleur nodded fearfully. Ellie reached for the knob.

Maybe it was the fact that she had underestimated the Frenchman. Maybe it was the fact that his move was timed perfectly while both of her hands were occupied. Either way, Ellie felt him yank away and go for her knife hand at the same time. She knew in that extended instant that she would not be able to kill him and chose a strike to wound instead. The razor edge dug into his cheek, making a neat slash, but Lefleur screamed and shoved his bulk into Ellie as they both lunged through the door.

Ellie stumbled. Lefleur pulled from her grasp and staggered backward.

“Kill her! Kill her!” he screamed down the steps.

One of his guards, the dark-haired one, charged at her from below. He was fast for a big man and as he reached for her with his powerful hands, Ellie twisted away, striking with her blade. He had stolen enough of her balance, however, to force the blow off and the knife lodged in the fleshy part of his shoulder. He wailed but kept his grip on Ellie as their struggle took them toward the staircase.

The light-haired guard was hurtling up the steps, and Ellie timed her next move perfectly, forcing Dark Hair into him. Dark Hair screamed again from the wrenching impact upon the blade still wedged in his shoulder.

Ellie started down the steps. A hand reached out from the darkness behind and tripped her up. She felt herself falling and knew she was powerless to do anything but brace for impact. When it came at the bottom of the flight, she tried to jump back to her feet immediately, but she had been too stunned. Her eyes glazed and the room’s meager light flirted with darkness. Somehow she righted herself and started on when Light Hair grasped her from behind in a choke hold.

She lashed her right arm up and around, taking control away from him and trying for a counter, which would lead to a broken neck for her attacker. He was equal to the task, however, and she was still slowed, so when she went for his chin to execute the move, he backed away enough to throw off her timing. Ellie felt her control flutter away, lost as it had been gained for an instant. She turned to break his hold, but he had already let go, and she saw the crunching blow too late to dodge or twist.

It struck her in the right temple. A bright flash erupted before her eyes and suddenly the floor was pulled out from under her. Another dizzying blow struck before she landed, but she barely felt it. Everything was numb. Strangely, she never lost consciousness totally, maintaining enough of it to hear Lefleur’s words shouted from the base of the steps.

“Take her into the plant,” he ordered, “and feed her to the grinder.”

Chapter 17

“SORRY I’M LATE, PETER.”