slapped off a cliff in his dreams.
'Damn, boss, what are you trying to do?' he asked, shading his eyes against the assault of the fluorescent lighting.
'Wake up; we have a search pattern we have to discuss.'
'What in the hell are you talking about?' Pete Golding asked, putting his glasses on. Niles explained his reasons for the next three minutes, with Pete interrupting only once with a question. After Niles was done, he watched Golding and waited for his reaction.
Instead of arguing as Niles thought he might, he jumped to his feet, coughed once to clear his throat, and yelled to his tired computer department, 'Alright, people, wake up! The director has a hunch we're going to bet the farm on.' He turned.to face Niles. 'Remind me later we'll have to allocate about thirty million dollars in next year's budget for the shuttle to refuel these birds we're zigzagging all over the sky.' Pete stretched, then grabbed his headset from his desk. 'All right, boys and girls, let's get Pasadena on the horn and get ready to retask Boris and Natasha, now!'
Jack took a deep breath and watched as Pete was in his element; he was directing people left and right, arranging the right telelinks with Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena, California, to make sure they had the proper codes to push Boris and Natasha to a lower and more westerly elliptical orbit.
'I'm glad you think he's right, Major, because I think he's just screwed the pooch. He's way off,' Everett said.
Jack didn't say anything. Everett and Ryan hadn't been privy to the story the senator had told, so they couldn't really understand the urgency. He couldn't tell them, but Niles understood completely; it was time to start taking chances, big chances. 'Come on, let's find that damn computer tech and get to work. I feel fucking helpless.' Jack turned and left for the mainframe center.
Ten minutes later, during the retasking of Boris and Natasha, the three military men were approached by a man no more than five foot three inches in height as they waited angrily outside the Europa clean room. He removed his glasses and looked up at Collins as if sizing him up and, by his expression, finding the major lacking in some way. Then the lab-coated technician turned his attention to Everett and Ryan and a look of utter disgust filled his features as the man exhaled loudly and rolled his eyes.
'Are you the Europa tech?' Jack asked impatiently.
'Your clothing just won't do. You're not going anywhere near Europa wearing the clothing you now have on. If you did, the Cray people would die of a stroke. Come with me, you have to shave and disinfect.' The tech started walking away and the three men followed quickly.
Everett looked at Collins in horror as they caught up to the speedy tech. 'Listen, we've been cooling our heels here at a juncture in this mission where action is dictated, and you took your fucking time getting here.'
The small man stopped and turned, his fists balling at his sides. 'Listen to me, you. I've been up forty-two hours with my eyes glued to four fucking monitors searching for a damn object that may or may not have gone down in an area as large as Alaska, so don't you stand there and lecture me on promptness. Now, shall we get to work?' he hissed dangerously, then entered the clean room.
'I'm glad he's working for us,' Everett said as he quickly followed the tech.
The hunt for Farbeaux and his employers was on.
Hendrix placed the phone down and activated the speaker box, then opened the file containing the report he had received from 'Argonaut,' the Secret Service asset they had on the presidential protection team. The man would have to be rewarded handsomely; he had come through with a gem. With the file open he slid it over and retrieved another file and opened it. On the cover sheet he looked upon the picture of Henri Farbeaux while the phone rang out West.
'This is Legion,' answered the irritated voice.
'Where is my Black Team?' Hendrix asked angrily.
'Reese told an interesting story that may or may not have something to do with your mysterious Purple Sage file,' Farbeaux baited his hook.
'You're playing games with us, Legion? You know how dangerous that can be? Where is my team and why were you in Las Vegas?'
'I'm afraid I am terminating my association with your corporation.'
'Listen to me, there won't be anywhere in the world you'll be safe. We'll find you.' Hendrix disconnected the Frenchman, then punched in several numbers and waited.
'Johnson,' the strong voice answered.
'This is Chairman Hendrix; our friend from Los Angeles has learned more than he need know about Purple Sage, and he may have eliminated the West Coast Black Team before he fired on you and your men at the strip club. The bastard's gone rogue on us. Right now, Compton and Lee may still believe he is working alone. Let's keep it that way. I suspect he's still in Las Vegas.'
'Yes, sir, we've been monitoring him since he escaped the club.'
'Good. Eliminate him at the earliest convenience, and tell that arrogant French bastard I said
Henri Farbeaux left the restaurant and walked to his car and saw it immediately. He was being watched from the parking lot across the street. He didn't know of many tourists, especially one with a black coat, who stood still in the hot evening and stared at a drab-looking restaurant for over an hour and a half. He held off smiling at the idiots as he entered his car. He engaged the ignition without fear. He knew Hendrix and his Men in Black liked to do things up close and personal, to be sure there was no collateral damage and also to make sure the job was done.
It only took him thirty seconds to spot the tail. They were in a white van that was parked across the street in a public lot adjacent to Circus Circus. The idiots had forgotten to turn their dome light off, and when the man who had been watching him entered the van, he had counted two in the front and, coupled with the watcher, at least one in the back. Undoubtedly these were the same amateurs that had tried to ambush him at the club, who'd missed him and only succeeded in killing an old man. But knowing these killers and the way they operated, he knew there had to be at least two more in the vehicle. Farbeaux put the car in drive and left the restaurant parking lot, opening his cell phone as he did, pressing a preselected number with his thumb, and waiting until his call was answered.
'Now' was all he said.
The white van left the public lot and followed the Frenchman's Chevrolet out onto Las Vegas Boulevard and watched as he sped up and darted quickly around the next corner. They followed without fear of possible discovery because of the amount of traffic on the streets this evening. There could be no way that the Frenchman could have picked them out. As they rounded the corner, they had to brake quickly as the Chevrolet had pulled over and Farbeaux had exited the car and was flagging them down.
'What the hell is this guy doing?' the driver asked as he came to a stop. Too late, they realized they had driven right into a trap as another vehicle stopped immediately behind the van.
'What do we do?' the driver asked his boss.
'We do nothing. We're in the middle of Las Vegas with police all over the place. We've obviously been seen by him and that's all. No doubt he will puff his chest out and tell us to go away. I've heard plenty about this man, and I know the company overestimates his abilities. Besides, he's French.'
The others chuckled.
Farbeaux walked up to the passenger window and waited until the man lowered it. The Frenchman saw that the men were dressed in black T-shirts and black Windbreakers. He smiled.
'You gentlemen really take this Black stuff seriously, don't you?'
'Now take it easy, we were told to make sure you come to no harm after your exploits this morning. All we want to know is where our other Black Team is.'
The Frenchman looked at the man. The goatee must have been meant to scare those he was supposed to
