A Raging Storm

“No one objected to her having a sidearm,” he said. “I’m also going to give you a personal letter to take to Petrov. He’ll know it’s from me.”

Jones gave Storm a piercing look. “You were the last piece that I needed for Project Midas.”

“Why me?”

“I just told you that I trust very few people. You happen to be one of them. I am trusting you to find sixty billion in gold and not let it corrupt you.”

“That’s a lot of gold,” Storm said.

“Yes it is, and if I am wrong in trusting you, then I will see to it that you really do end up dead.”

Another layer had been peeled. Jones was sending him down a dangerous path. And yet Storm still wasn’t sure that Jones had told him everything. Knowing Jones, he doubted that he had. There were going to be more layers, more surprises, more twists, more turns, and with sixty billion dollars at stake, there were going to be more murders.

Of that, he was certain.

CHAPTER SEVEN

torm took a seat in a sports bar directly across from Gate 21 at Dulles International Airport so that his back was against a wall and he could see all possible entrances and exits. He was supposed to meet Agent Showers there at 5 P.M. He’d arrived at 4:30 P.M. In his line of work, you never wanted to walk into an area cold, even if you were simply catching a flight to London with an FBI agent.

He’d just sat down when Agent Showers entered the bar. She’d come early, too. He liked that. As he watched her scan the lounge, he was reminded of how attractive she was. Showers was wearing a dark gray pants suit with a short jacket that covered an off-white silk blouse layered over a black camisole. She was a knockout.

Showers carefully weaved through the jumble of chairs and tables occupied by travelers who were taking advantage of a two-drinks-for-one happy hour.

“Hello, Ms. Showers,” Storm said, rising politely from his seat.

She was only carrying a backpack.

“Where’s your luggage?” he asked her. “I’ve never known a woman who traveled light.”

“Where’s yours?” she replied. He glanced at a backpack next to him.

Both of them had checked their luggage for a reason besides convenience. They would not have been able to react quickly during an emergency if they were lugging suitcases with them.

“Whaddaya want to drink, doll?” a busty cocktail waitress, wearing too much makeup and fishnet hose, asked them.

“A diet cola, either brand,” Showers said.

“I’ll take a beer. Whatever you have on tap.”

“Great choice, handsome,” she said, winking at him.

As she walked away, Showers said, “You just ordered a draft of whatever they have on tap and she complimented your choice. You must love it when women flirt with you.”

“But you don’t,” he said. It sounded like a question.

“I don’t what? Like it when someone flirts with you? Or are you saying I don’t flirt with you?”

“Both.”

“Don’t be a fool,” she said. “That waitress is just working you for a tip.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her that you’re paying the tab.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, serving Storm first. “Here you are, cutie,” she said.

She plopped Showers’s cola on a napkin in front of her without comment.

“Thank you,” Storm said, beaming. “By the way, my friend here is going to be paying our tab.”

“A girlfriend who buys you drinks,” the waitress said. “Be careful, she might be trying to get lucky.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Showers said indignantly.

“Too bad for you,” the waitress replied.

When she was out of earshot, Showers said, “I’m tipping her zero.”

Storm looked smug. He liked Agent Showers.

She got down to business. “I’ve contacted Scotland Yard, and they’re sending a liaison to meet us at Heathrow and take us to the Yard for a briefing about Ivan Petrov.”

“Thanks, but I’ll skip the introductions at the airport and just meet you later at our hotel. You can brief me.”

“I can brief you?” she replied, bristling. “Hey, you’re tagging along with me, remember. It’s not my job to brief you.”

“You’re right,” Storm said, throwing her a bone. “But I think it’s better if I stay in the shadows.”

She thought about it for a second and said, “You’re probably right. I didn’t have a choice about notifying Scotland Yard. It’s agency procedure when a law enforcement group visits a foreign government to interrogate someone. I just hope the Brits have enough common sense to keep their mouths shut about us coming.”

“I doubt it,” Storm said.

“Why? Because they’re cops?”

“Of course not. I just love cops, especially women in uniform with nightsticks,” he said, grinning. She scowled.

He said, “I’m suspicious because this is a high-profile case and Ivan Petrov is internationally known. Your arrival in England to question Petrov will be big news if word leaks out.”