The Chrysalis Project: Steel Dove   TIffany is in New York. What will   happen when the 'City that never sleeps'   meets the Operator that never quits.   WARNING: The Chrysalis Project may be hyper-violent for some readers!

 

 

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Chapter 1

Tiffany stood in the club holding her bottled water, listening to the chatter of the two younger dancers she went to Julliard with in an abbreviated course. She had jumped at the opportunity to be included in their night out. For a month she'd trained hard, as if her every step were being dogged by her mentor Lyssa. Not even her dance master knew she'd been intensely trained by her for over a year. The world famous Prima had taught her from day one how to dance; both ballet and ballroom. It showed, several times He had almost said the name in comparison.

"Like its so hard? Don't they understand a girl's gotta cut loose sometimes and just have fun? You know, blow off steam," the dark haired Melanie stated.

Red headed Brooke replied, "We need something alright."

She wasn't looking at her companions but further away. Tiffany had spotted the subject of her interest right after she did. Dark hair, tanned and wearing the relaxed jeans and white shirt open several buttons. Brooke had a thing it appeared for the "bad boy" look. Melanie went more for the suit and tie guys and had more than once mentioned marriage in her future plans. Tiffany had also noticed the undercover cops and one off duty Fed. Their presence was filed away along with the group of four mafia boys. Swarthy, suited and arrogant they stood out in her mind. Being armed was the clinching give-away.

"In five months when we graduate; I'll be so glad to go home to San Francisco," Melanie said longingly.

She made no bones about being homesick.

"Not me. Graduation; then off to Paris for a month," Brooke laughed,"What about you Tiffany?"

Tiffany shrugged, "home for a week then figure out what to do next."

The songs changed and the singer's voice subtly caught her attention.

"Girl you need to get a plan. We can't dance forever. Play your cards right and you can land a serious sugar-daddy. Not a musician though. You need a business guy. European. You're a goody-goody, maybe an Italian? They're stable," Brooke commented.

"Stable? Why not a daredevil type," Tiffany hedged.

"What? You want to pull a Lyssa Kordenay and marry some fly-boy nobody pilot," Brooke asked.

That got both of the other dancers' attention.

"What's wrong with that," Melanie asked pointedly," She's happy, he's super hot. I heard he used to be a navy SEAL and was a smuggler for a while. Rumor is that the smuggling thing was a cover for working for the government. He had to stop because he married Lyssa and she gets too much attention for that. They just had twins and she looks great again."

Brooke rolled her eyes, "oh PUH-LEASE! Lyssa dated movie producers, designers and corporate bigwigs from all over. I even heard she was courted by an Arabian prince and she just THROWS it all away. To marry THAT GUY? You should hear the rumors about her. One is that she only danced to keep herself attractive because she was really a high level mistress. She disappears ALL the time! Once for two months. People thought she was pregnant or had a boyfriend that got too rough and she had to recover. Then she turned up in Sydney Australia, of ALL PLACES, in super top form."

Tiffany was listening, but only just. She knew about those rumors and the true stories behind them. It was the song that had her attention more. She listened onto the lyrics; 'Welcome to the inner workings of my mind. So dark and foul I can't disguise. Can't disguise. nights I become afraid of the darkness in my heart. Hurricane.' Brooke and Melanie began to argue. Tiffany edged back slowly and then wandered off. Those two argued more than anybody she'd met. They seemed to thrive on it. The high stress of a mission or training exercise was far more preferable to their constant bickering. Tiffany missed Ram's Rock Island. No need to hide anything there. It was so much easier. Her apartment building had a small gym luckily. Joining a health club was the only other way for her to maintain her high PT standard. The building had an indoor pool to swim in, stationary bikes and treadmills. Good thing she still woke up at five in the morning. She had no intention of joining a spin-class or any other group that focused more on being social than actual fitness.

She kept moving through the club and trying not to fall down laughing at some of the pick-up ploys being used on the other women.

"Hey gorgeous," a man with wet spiky hair and artificial tan said edging closer.

Tiffany had seen him earlier talking to two other blondes. Apparently that was his thing. He had the requisite accent if he wanted to be an extra on Jersey Shore.

She gave him a blank look and replied in German, "Ich glaube nicht, dummer Esel sprechen."

"Uh. You speak english," he asked.

"Englisch? Nein. Gute nacht Dumm," Tiffany said and turned away.

The guy walked off, "fuckin' foreign models. Why can't they learn english before they come here?"

A girl walking by carrying a tray of shot-tubes giggled, "that was so cool! What did you really say to him?"

Tiffany smiled and let her drawl slip a little on purpose, "I told him I didn't speak dumb-ass."

"I guess I should have paid more attention in spanish back in high school. It could've come in handy," the shot-girl lamented.

Tiffany shook her head, "too common. So is French. Learn Dutch instead, with your complexion it'll sell. Get the lessons you see on the commercials. It'll work."

"You speak Dutch? I know what you said to him was in German. I'm Stacy," the shot-girl introduced herself.

Tiffany nodded, " Onder andere. Among others. I'm Tiffany."

Stacy pulled a shot, "thanks for the advice Tiffany. Have one on me."

Tiffany waved off the shot, "advice is always free for a girl on the job. Tell you what. Twenty dollars for a name."

Stacy shrugged, "ask."

"Anything, anytime, anywhere. No questions and no attention," Tiffany said.

"Party-planner," Stacy asked.

Tiffany understood the slang term. A party-planner was a person that could supply girls for entertainment, tax-free liquor, drugs and even find a location to hold an event. All low-end. Street level. That wasn't what she wanted.

"A Fixer," Tiffany answered.

Stacy knew exactly what was meant. A fixer was a go-to guy. Cars, girls, guns, art, information, jewelry, drugs, men(for pleasure or security), off-the-books doctors. Usually mafia connections solved all those problems. But to ask for a fixer was different. Fixers were independent. They held no affiliation to any organization. They charged high prices and ran the highest risks. It was worth dealing with them. They worked alone and never had informant problems, they tended to be more ruthless.

"Kent Dalton," Stacy said leaning close and gave an address.

Tiffany nodded. That was what she wanted. A fixer that was established enough to have a location meant a lot. That meant he had been around for years. Low-end fixers had only phone numbers if you were lucky. Most of the time they worked a certain area and you had to look for them based off a description. An established fixer never dealt in cash and rarely with bearer bonds. They took payment by wire transfers.

Tiffany pulled two twenties from the top of her dress and dropped them on the girl's tray, "goodnight. Stacy."

The shot-girl smiled then blinked in amazement. Tiffany had taken five steps forward and disappeared as two people crossed in opposite directions between them.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Dannigan didn't like the update he was reading. ISIS was making moves again. Another penetration into CONUS. New York was too target rich as far as he was concerned. The thing that bothered him most was the movements. Three smaller contingents had broken off. All were heading south in varying directions. One cell moving to the mid-west, one deep south and one south-east. This wasn't concealment, it was operational prep. They were staging. As if the problem with the Marshals weren't enough. Or was it the other way around; If terrorists weren't enough he had that problem with the Marshals too.

He pulled up the conference window and it opened on the other side.

"What's on your mind Major," Kimberly asked.

Dannigan sent the reports, "An ISIS cell has divided. They're on the move and nobody has a clue where they're going or why. You and Krystel find 'em, track 'em so they can be shut down."

Kimberly was already reading the reports, "they're main location is in New York? Tiffany is there. Maybe she can do some groundwork on them. Shawna's back in Maryland. I think she's done setting up her house. Who do you want?"

Dannigan nodded, "make the packet and I'll bring Tiffany up on tasking. Oh and add that I would prefer she not get mugged again."

Lyssa leaned into the screen, "that was planned. It goes to her legend. She needed an incident to prompt a reason for having some kind of hand-to-hand skills. Its on record now that she took a free women's course taught by the NYPD, one of their S.W.A.T. members. It was necessary Major."

"How planned was it," Dannigan asked and instantly regretted it.

Lyssa sighed, "not good enough. It took her four evenings of parading around for six hours just to lure somebody in. She was tempted to scrap the plan and take out her frustration on him."

Dannigan shook his head, "forget I asked."

Krystel laughed, "well we definitely don't have to worry about her looks. She got so many phone numbers she could start her own phone book!"

"I could have survived the day without that Evanson. Find the terrorists, preferably BEFORE they make the news," Dannigan said and signed off.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Hammad drove under the posted speed limit. They would be in Kansas the next day. An advance man had been sent already to set up a safe-house and start the surveillance. Recruitment and radicalizing of disillusioned Americans had stalled. Someone had gotten very smart and used islamic law against them. When confronted, the Muftis and Imams had to admit that conversion to Islam meant nothing if the man was circumcised. That revelation all but slammed the door on western recruitment. He took a drink of the convenience store coffee and wanted to gag. Americans made coffee too strong and bitter. He would admit, it will keep you awake during driving. Between the coffee and the food he believed he would soon lose what little control he had. If it weren't for fried chicken places he wouldn't trust any kind of meat at all. No place announced being Hallah.

The plan was good. It would be a solid strike at the American politicians. He knew the Congressman of Kansas before taking the current seat as Speaker of the House had been chairman of the armed services committee and previously the intelligence committee. He had the influence to have prisoners released if he so chose. He would not,of course, and the price would be paid by his only child. A boy. Hammad had seven men with him, another six were on their way to Galveston, Texas. They would secure a boat. In case anything went wrong his group would join that one and use the boat to cross the Gulf of Mexico to Tampa, Florida. The third splinter group of three would hide themselves there. They would also make preliminary observations of the current head of the working group known as CyberForce. There were actually two groups. One stayed protected within Fort Meade, Maryland. The other worked out of the Naval base in Tampa. The one in Tampa was the more critical group.

The remaining four members of the cell were staying behind in New York to coordinate and communicate between the groups. By keeping that group in place it would confuse the federal agencies. They were not using any cellular phones at all. Instead they were using an internet service. As WiFi was free to use in so many places it was a more practical and secure method of communication. In Kansas City they would use a pre-paid cellphone to make contact with their target. Hammad drove on with a cold smile.

 

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Chapter 2

Tiffany sat in the comfortable chair facing the wide desk.

"So how may I help you Miss Davareaux," Kent Dalton asked.

"I'm glad you received my retainer," Tiffany said casually.

First thing that morning one hundred thousand dollars had been wired to the fixer's account after a request for an appointment. An hour later Tiffany was called and given a time. She now faced the slick New Yorker.

Tiffany began, "I'm looking for some property. I like my privacy, yet I still need city access. A place that I can store my car indoors. What I need is probably something along the lines of a commercial space that I can convert."

Kent was checking a laptop, "rent, lease or purchase?"

"Purchase please," Tiffany replied.

Kent stopped tapping the keys, tapped again then stared at the screen.

"Can you be ready to purchase today," he asked.

Tiffany nodded, "if the property is right."

He tapped some keys then stood up and walked over to large plasma screen that had looked like a digital portrait. It now displayed a three story building with a basement that looked like a warehouse. He went into detail about the place then turned back.

"Would this serve your needs," Kent asked.

Tiffany smiled, "I believe it would Mr. Dalton."

Kent smiled, "normally a property such as this would go for several million dollars. But if you can purchase in one hour and be able to sign the papers, it can be yours for only eight hundred-fifty thousand dollars."

"I can call to have the payment transferred right now," She replied.

"One moment please," Dalton asked then went through a side door.

He returned three minutes later and held out a slip of paper. Tiffany knew the series of numbers were for an account. She called and transferred the money. Kent smiled.

"How else may I be of service today," He asked.

"I'd like a current year Lincoln Navigator, silver and Dodge Challenger. I would also like an appointment with modification technician. Could you also recommend an interior designer," Tiffany listed.

Kent had been making notes, "The vehicles can be delivered first thing in the morning and the Dodge will be delivered by a technician. I know a couple of designers that specialize in commercial to residential conversion. I'll have to confirm a time with you tomorrow. A driver will take you over to the location in about four hours. A gentleman will meet you there to sign the papers and give you the keys. There will be a lock service and alarm technician after the papers are signed to change the locks and alarm codes. I assure you Miss Davareaux; everything will meet with your approval."

He had stood up and come around his desk offering his hand. Tiffany understood this was the closing of the meeting. She took his hand and stood up.

"So far your service is outstanding Mr. Dalton. I'm so glad you granted my appointment," Tiffany smiled.

Kent kissed her hand, "Kent, please. Its my pleasure to meet such a talented dancer. Perhaps you might help me when you're a Principal dancer."

Tiffany understood, "Tiffany. Box seats shouldn't be a problem Kent."

Kent handed her a card, "an exclusive limo service. Billed directly to your account here. Security provided. Your name will be added to the list and be available in six hours. Have a wonderful day Tiffany."

"Thank you Kent. Much appreciated. You have a great day as well," Tiffany said and left.

Four hours later she walked into the building with new keys and alarm code. She started with the basement first. It would serve as a small arms range after some specialized modifications. The ground floor provided more than adequate parking for the vehicles she would have. The first floor would be remodeled as a large gathering area for entertaining. The second floor would be turned into a dance studio and gym. The third floor would be remodeled loft style to a living area. It would take two weeks but worth it.

Tiffany knew Lyssa had a place in New York. Actually she knew Lyssa had a residence and two bolt-holes in New York. Operators maintained one or more locations to cache weapons and other needed supplies. Lyssa had those in the major cities she frequented such as New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, London, Paris, Rome, Milan, Moscow, Tokyo, Rio De Janiero, Amsterdam, Munich, Geneva, Vienna, Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Mykonos and Athens that Tiffany knew of. Tiffany also knew Rodrick had two locations in CONUS; Long Beach, California and Jacksonville, Florida. He also had two locations outside the U.S. One in Marseilles and one in Sydney, Australia. All of them had a bail-out kit in Nassau consisting of a go-bag, clean passport, weapons and money. They all had escape and evade routes as well. Carl and Eddie had a sailboat and would head for Key West, Rodrick had a small plane and would take Warlock to Miami then up to Jacksonville. Pete had the most dangerous bail-out. He would catch a flight to Cuba. Once there he would become a Marine once again and take a Hop, military flight, back to the U.S. Kimberly and LoneStar would take a charter flight to Grand Cayman, Lyssa would fly commercial to Rio and Krystel would board a cruise ship to Mexico. From there they would move twice then all converge on Switzerland. Children and dogs had changed things drastically.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Son of a bitch. I GOT 'EM," Krystel called out.

Kimberly looked over, "verified?"

Krystel nodded, "yes Ma'am. They snuck in through the port on a freighter but I have them. From there I tracked them around New York using the cameras. I lost the three groups after the turnpike but I have the New York contingent cold."

Kimberly went through and double-check everything. Krystel was dead-on. She made up the packet and sent it out. with a copy to Dannigan. Krystel was now trying to hack into their computer. Two burn-phones were on the location but only local calls that were nothing. The upside was they were stealing WiFi from an adjacent building. The downside was it was all voice communications. Krystel would have to intercept the messages during a session. This was where having a team of two came into play. They would have to take twelve hour shifts to catch them. Kimberly's computer pinged. Tiffany had received the packet. She was now planning. She would make her incursion that night. Kimberly sent Dannigan confirmation. He acknowledged.

The clock was now running and Tiffany was on her own.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany wanted to shake her head in amusement. There was a surveillance van parked across the street and twenty yards away from her new property. She unlocked the door and went inside to deactivate the alarm. The van was very old so she guessed it was NYPD and not Federal agents.

'They must be in a frenzy trying to figure out who I am by now. Whatever has their attention was already removed before I ever signed the papers,' Tiffany thought to herself.

Ten minutes later a silver Lincoln Navigator pulled inside the large door. and parked. Within five minutes the remote had been set to the large roll-up door. She signed the papers and accepted the keys. The driver informed her the title, registration and plates would be dropped off that afternoon. As he left the Dodge Challenger pulled in. The young man greeted her then popped the hood. Tiffany pointed out what she wanted done then signed the papers. The tech then drove the car out with assurance it would be returned that afternoon. She was expecting the interior designer any time now and wasn't disappointed. A woman knocked then smiled and walked in.

"Miss Davareaux? I'm Carol Stanley," She introduced herself and offered her card.

Tiffany smiled back, "thank you for coming out. My sponsor acquired this building for me to use and as you can see, its in quite a state."

Carol smiled, "I have a great team and I'm sure you'll be happy. You gave me a quick outline so I believe I can have you ready by the middle of next week."

Tiffany unrolled a large sheet, "here's what I had in mind."

After ten minutes the designer smiled, "I see no problems whatsoever."

Tiffany reached into her purse, "I have a corporate check for you here."

The designer took the check, "I'll have my people start first thing in the morning. It'll be a pleasure creating for you!"

"I look forward to your ideas. I have to go now, but I'll be here first thing in the morning to let you and your people in," Tiffany said.

Tiffany left after locking up. The urge to giggle was hard to resist when she spotted the tail. She had no reason to evade so she led him all the way to Julliard and spotted him looking into the studio. He was shocked to see her in dancewear and working with the other dancers. At four she left and returned to the warehouse. The two men were back. She opened the door and let them in. After parking the Dodge the technician went over all the modifications and handed her the keys and paperwork. The other man, that had delivered the Lincoln installed the license plate then handed her the paperwork. Both bid her a good evening and left after setting the remote in the Dodge to the door as well. Tiffany took the Dodge and left.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"So what have you got on this chick," Detective Nunez asked.

"Tiffany Davareaux. Grew up in Louisiana. Current Residence: Nassau, Bahamas. She's listed as working small parts in some productions outside the States. Currently enrolled at Julliard in an advanced program and slotted to go to Moscow in four or five months. Sponsored by a consulting firm out of Nassau," Another officer read from a sheet.

Nunez asked, "what?"

Artello replied, "she's a ballerina. Model, too. Some print in Europe, no covers. The building is now listed as corporate holding. Those vehicles too. There's a report here that she got mugged a few weeks ago. Purse got snatched. She took our self defense course. Other than that, nothing. This is her first time in New York."

"You're saying this chick pops up out of nowhere, buys the building and she's clean," Nunez asked.

The younger officer nodded, "yep. Everything's legit as far as she's concerned. She is who and what she says she is. The woman that met her is an interior designer. The check she paid her with is on the up and up. Corporate account with Bank of America. I even made some calls. She's top of that advanced class. Word is she's going to that super high echelon academy in Moscow for ballet when she's done here."

"I don't get it," Nunez shook his head.

Artello leaned back in the chair, "some companies do that. They finance artists and athletes. The company puts up the money and they give the company a face for the public to look at. Dancers, models, athletes. How do you think some of those people get to the Olympics? They have sponsors. Its a tax write-off for a company and it makes them look good. Whatever Munzio had in there is long gone now. He wouldn't let anybody get inside that building if he had anything in there."

"Essentially we're blown. FUCK," Nunez shouted.

The unit tailing her reported she had went to an apartment. The apartment was leased under the same company but only for another month. He also remarked that she was a careful and courteous driver.

Nunez rolled his eyes at that. He didn't understand it. Who was this chick, why did she suddenly buy the building that nobody knew was for sale and what was her connection to Munzio?

"Keep the tail on her. I wanna know the second she meets with Munzio or his crew," Nunez ordered.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany opened the secure email and went through the packet Kimberly sent. She had already received her tasking code. The location suspected of being the cell's site made her frown. It was definitely out of the way. There were no clubs or restaurants nearby to justify her presence casually. She'd have to invent a reason to be in the area. After thinking for ten minutes it came to her. Something Lyssa said once. Use what you have going on if you can. Lyssa had created a foundation to sponsor a dancer to college to get close to target AO once.

"I'm moving into a place. I need stuff for it," Tiffany said then grabbed the daily newspaper and checked the notices.

She found three ads for items. Two were for furniture and one was for an apartment's contents. Tiffany called them and set up appointments. All three would receive her so she touched up then went down to her new car. Her tail was still with her but it didn't matter. She was about to school them in the fine art of being bored to tears. If they thought following her around all day was a waste of time, they were about to find new levels of frustration. All the appointments were with elderly women. Informative for her, sheer aggravation for the cops following her. The smile was all real when Tiffany buzzed her first visit. Within minutes she was in and looking at a forty year old bedroom set while listening to the woman chatter away about everyone within six blocks. After an hour Tiffany came up dry but did have a vintage set of furniture that would be picked up in the morning.

Her next stop made her want to laugh. The widow was Italian and very informed as to what was going on that she did find interesting to her personally but not relevant to the operation. It seemed the building she just bought was sold to her by one of the local mafia underbosses under investigation. The illegal goods that had been kept there had been removed the day before in the early afternoon. She also gave her five more places to check for antiques. She kept her third appointment and it garnered her a dining table and chairs along with a china cabinet.

The next day was saturday and more of the same. When she came out of the second stop carrying a box Tiffany noticed her watchers take interest. She decided to have some fun. Tiffany set the box on the trunk of the Challenger and lifted out a china teapot and admired it then a matching cup. When the cop in the passenger seat laid his head back in disgust she pretended to smile with joy at her prize. In truth she was enjoying the torment of her watchers' boredom. Tiffany loaded the box into the trunk of her car and drove to her next stop giggling to herself.

 

~o~O~o~
 

"Palioski what's the latest," Nunez asked over the radio.

The junior detective answered, "she made a BIG score! A tea set! The last stop she picked up a silver service. Odds are now three to one that she picks up a set of china next. Five to one for living room furniture since she got bedroom and dining room furniture last night. I never knew antiquing could be SO stimulating. We should have brought the wives and compare notes."

Nunez wanted to swear over the radio at their sarcasm, even though it was well founded. It was verified that from two of the three locations the Davareaux woman went to last night, furniture was picked up that morning and brought to the warehouse. She was driving them all crazy with her randomness.

Artello off to the side simply shook his head, "I told ya, she was clean. At least Palioski and Deturo have a good looking woman to look at. It could be worse. They could be stuck in here with you."

Nunez tossed the handheld radio onto the counter, "I'm surrounded by ASSHOLES!"

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany finally hit pay-dirt on her fourth stop. Not only did she find two persian rugs in great condition, she found out that a block over there had been a large group of men speaking Farsi that were new and had more than two vehicles. The group had started out large but now was small. The old woman had been surprised and delighted when Tiffany greeted her in fluent German. The woman's building bordered the slowly expanding Islamic section. After calling for the rugs to be picked up Tiffany wandered down to the corner. A small Mom 'n Pop store and deli was there. She ordered a bratwurst on a kaiser roll. The couple were fourth generation American but due to the demographic spoke German. They were surprised when Tiffany did as well.

Her efforts were rewarded in the store. Two men came in speaking Farsi. One asking the other if there was any news and the other replying that the main group would contact them from the Kansas city safe-house that night. Tiffany bought another bottle of water and bid the couple good day.

" Gutten tag," Tiffany called out waving.

The two cops following her had come into the store as well and grabbed something to eat as well. She was sure that if they had really been checking her out they'd now know she spoke Russian, Italian and German. None of which should be surprising. She had been featured in German and Italian Vogue magazines and it was common knowledge she was going to be going to Moscow in a few months. Tiffany knew which building the Arabic men were in. She would visit them later on.

 

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Chapter 3

Hammad and his group had finally arrived in Kansas City. They met the advance man as arranged at a large wholesale club off the Interstate. He led them to a three story apartment building that looked like it should have been condemned ten years ago. The building stood right at the edge of where a residential area met a commercial. The van was parked in a side lot and they all went inside. The sun had already set, allowing them to go inside under the cover of darkness.

"How many are in the building," Hammad asked in Farsi.

The advance man laughed, "none but ourselves. It took a while to get the other tenants to leave but I managed and two months ago the fake company bought it. We are alone here but we have everything we need."

"Good. What about the boy? Have you been watching him carefully Samir," Hammad asked.

" Of course. Our window is closing, as the infidels say. In nine days the boy will go away to a camp for soccer players. Saturday he has a match," Samir informed him.

Hammad nodded, "then Allah smiles on us for arriving soon enough. We'll take the boy after his match. He will be distracted by a win or loss and not pay attention. I already know Congressman Brice will arrive sometime Saturday afternoon."

Samir nodded, "I have a room already for planning and another beside it to hold the boy. This way."

Samir led him down the hall and into another apartment. The main room had a large table from a sheet of plywood set on crude saw horses with pages all over it. The walls had pictures, maps and time schedules covering them. A laptop sat on the counter between the kitchen and main room connected to a cable modem.

"Leave me," Hammad said and began to look over everything.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany opened the conference window on her laptop.

"I'm up," Tiffany said.

Kimberly greeted her, "Clear?"

Tiffany nodded, "for the most part. Cops bugged this apartment. One in the phone, bathroom vanity light, bedside lamp and the main room under the coffee table. Amateur hour here. They're currently listening to a previous recording of me taking a bubble bath on one bug and my favorite chillmix on the others. Playing with them is getting old quick and I need to work now."

"What did you find," Kimberly asked.

Tiffany uploaded the two pictures, "H.A.T. One and H.A.T. Two."

H.A.T.: Hotel Alpha Tango. Code for Hostile Arabic Terrorist. Similar to the designation Victor Charlie for VietCong. Kimberly was already moving at warp speed. The super array,Onyssius, worked facial recognition through all U.S. agencies along with D.O.D. and Interpol.

Tiffany also gave her the address. Kimberly went into city planning and pulled the building's blueprints file along with services to the building.

"I have them on the fourth floor west side. Apartment four-eleven. Fire Escape is on the north side," Kimberly informed her.

Tiffany looked at the window, "What's on the roof?"

A moment later a still picture came up and Kimberly said, "some type of shack. Possible off the books resident, status unknown."

Tiffany nodded, "evade if possible, neutralize if necessary on rooftop. What about main?"

Kimberly listed, "identify remaining H.A.T.s, infiltrate all electronics and make a record of any pertinent documents. Do you have a secure site?"

Tiffany shook her head, "negative. New York's finest is still all over me. I'm trying to let nature take its course but I get the feeling that whoever is running the team is going off of principle now."

"I'll see if they can be dissuaded tomorrow or the next day. In and out job. Do not engage if at all possible," Kimberly sighed.

Tiffany leaned back in the chair, "ok. I'll begin to infiltrate the site in three hours."

Kimberly confirmed and closed out, "three hours. Usual Ops rig."

Tiffany closed out her side then began studying the building.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Kimberly went into the NYPD's mainframe through a backdoor. She found the warrants for the surveillance on Tiffany's warehouse but no warrants for her apartment. She sent an email to Internal Affairs. In it she detailed the locations of the listening devices and even the serial numbers, which she'd gotten from the inventory log. Also she noted that the warehouse he'd had under watch was no longer owned by the previous party.

"That should get Detective Nunez' attention," Kimberly said.

The other terminal beeped. She went over and looked. Facial recognition hit on one of the pictures.

Kimberly went after more information, "well mister bad guy. Who are you and what do you do?"

She didn't like what she found. Both were first generation. Immigration records detailed that one came from Syria and the other came from an Iraqi town along the border. They both were born and raised in the U.S. but had left three years prior and disappeared after entering Spain. That was a short hop from Morocco. From there they could easily make their way to any number of training camps. The bad part was they had never officially re-entered the country. They had slipped in with the large group. This made things worse. Unlike other terrorists penetrating CONUS, these guys were born citizens. They had knowledge and documents that were first hand and real. They could walk the walk and talk the talk to blend in if they wanted to and yet still have all the linguistics and customs down cold to hide within sympathetic communities. It made them even more dangerous. She updated the Major, knowing he would send a response in the morning.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany had turned off the digital players and replaced the bugs where she found them and got dressed. Her form-fitted battle suit and boots but rolled the sleeves back far enough to hide under the turned up sleeves of a grey over-size blouse cinched with a wide black belt. Her weapons and harness she stuffed into a shoulder bag along with a small make-up kits and remover wipes. Time to give the cops something better to do than fantasize about her in a tub full of scented foam. She also sent a text to the limo service.

Sure enough, they followed her Challenger to the club she led them to. It only took five minutes to lose them inside and slip out a VIP exit. Two blocks away she met the limo.

"Where to Ma'am," the driver asked.

Tiffany gave him an address and told him to park behind it. Thirty minutes later he pulled in as directed and parked.

"No need to get out. Stay as you are. I'm not sure how long I'll be," Tiffany said and got out.

She moved casually down the alley. Once out of sight of the limo she slipped off the blouse then put on the weapons rig and painted her facial camo from memory. Finally she switched on the camera on her shoulder strap then the bluetooth that was pre-programmed to call the hangar. The call would be through an encrypted satellite phone. She was going with the soft-probe penetration. Two Glock .40 cal. autoloaders with attached silencers on each thigh, a latest generation Fairbarne-Sikes Commando knife at the back of her right thigh. It was made of a carbon fiber composite. Two of the poison micro-syrettes were tucked into her boots. The small pouch at her waist contained her electronic bare essentials; digital camera that could also take video, a flashdrive that actually was for breaking a device's security and implanting a backdoor access for Kimberly and Krystel to use anytime, another that automatically copied everything up to four hundred gigabytes of data. Another pouch held her intrusion set; key-card and data-pad, powder for raising fingerprints, lock-picks and an old fashioned blank credit card. in another pouch was a small aerosol can. It contained an acid that activated when it came in contact with air.

Tiffany walked down the alley until she reached the building. A jump gained her the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder. Apparently someone was using it on a regular basis, it came down quietly. She went all the way up to the roof. The shack on top of the roof was occupied, there was light coming from a curtained window and the noise from a television could be heard. Tiffany was able to move down the stairs two floors. In the hallway the hall lights were low enough. One by one, she was able to reach up and unscrew them just enough to darken the hall. Tiffany stopped at the apartment she was looking for and listened for a moment. It was quiet inside so she took out her picks and worked the pins within the tumbler. First went the deadbolt then the knob. She eased the door open but saw the chain. a simple piece of bent coat hanger unlatched it.

The main room was empty and almost dark. A light from the interior hallway cast enough light for her to see. A laptop sat on the table. A set of headphones with microphone were connected so Tiffany switched it on. The headphones muted the bootup sequence. Tiffany plugged the security breaking flashdrive in. A moment later the screen went immediately to the desktop. A prompt came up so Tiffany switch to the other flashdrive device. It copied everything off the drive. While that was going on she used the digital camera to take pictures of everything. Maps and notes written in Arabic and English. A boat in Galveston, Texas. A building in Kansas City and anothr building in Tampa, Florida. A name in English grabbed her attention. Robert Brice. It sounded familiar.

Tiffany suddenly wanted to groan. Hopefully they weren't referring to Congressman Robert Brice. He was the current speaker of the house. He was one of many that were lucky. He was a true political animal but not so much he'd sell his soul to that bunch called LOG. He'd been around so long he had known better. Sitting on the Armed Services and Intelligence Committees had made him leery of groups that could be considered too far right-winged. A door opened in the back and a man stepped out rubbing his eyes. He was immediately attracted by the blu-ish light from the main room.

The Glock practically leapt into her hand and she triggered off a round. Her training hadn't slipped at all. The .40 caliber round blasted through his head.

"And so flies the burning wings of fury on cold winds. I am death; calling your names," Tiffany said to herself as the body dropped to the floor.

Quickly she went to the room he had exited and looked in. Twin beds were inside. She triggered off a round into the head of the man stirring. She then eased open a second door and looked in. Again there were twin beds and they were occupied. Her knife ensured they'd never awaken. A tap to the bluetooth made a call to the hangar.

"Go," Kimberly answered.

"Possible blown Op. Four H.A.T.s downed," Tiffany said.

Kimberly pulled up Tiffany's location, "status."

Tiffany sighed, "I own the AO for the next hour if needed. Backdoor installed on the laptop."

Kimberly began typing, "get me a hard connection."

Tiffany connected to the internet then backed to a DOS-Prompt and connected to the IP Kimberly called out.

"Ok Dove go ahead and sanitize while I kill the laptop," Kimberly instructed her.

Tiffany went to the bedroom and began policing her spent brass and round, then from the body in the hall. There was no bleach or straight ammonia. All they had was an old bottle of glass cleaner. Tiffany sprayed every surface she'd touched even though she'd worn gloves. She used pieces of paper and wrote numbers on them and took pictures of each face then tucked the number into ziploc bag along with a blood stained paper towel.

"All four tagged. What else do you want," Tiffany asked.

Kimberly replied, "send it to Washington. Upload everything else to me when you get back to your place. The Laptop is done. Exfiltrate. We'll debrief when you get clear."

"Roger that," Tiffany said and disconnected.

Tiffany took one last one last look around. She shook her head at the body laying in the hall. There was a large puddle of urine soaking into the carpet.

"If only you could have held off taking a piss longer," Tiffany said then locked the door knob and left.

A block away she removed her gear and facial camo then returned to the limo.

"Where to Ma'am," the driver asked.

"Do you know where one of those twenty-four hour mail service places is," Tiffany asked.

The driver nodded, "yes Ma'am. I'll head there now."

Tiffany re-applied her make-up. Fifteen minutes later she was standing at a counter in a Mail 'n More. She tucked in the memory card, flashdrive and plastic bags and addressed it to the Washington office and sent it out rush service. The Major would have it in twenty-four hours. She then had the driver return her to the club. Tiffany slipped back in via the VIP door. She strolled right through and went out the front then drove herself back to the apartment.

 

---

---

 

Chapter 4

Detective Nunez was confused. Why would the Captain want him first thing in the morning? Two guys in suit were waiting in the Captain's office when he walked in

"Have seat Gerry," Captain Billings said.

Gerry Nunez sat down, "what's up Cap?"

One of the suits asked, "what's the connection between Munzio and a Tiffany Davareaux?"

Gerry got angry, "she bought a building he owned. A building that wasn't for sale."

"That's not what we're asking. What's her connection? Is she sleeping with him, dating him, answering his phone, what," the other suit asked.

"I don't know," Gerry answered.

"Has she been seen in his company at all," The first guy asked.

Gerry sighed, "no."

The other asked, "called him? Wrote a letter?"

Gerry stared at him, "no."

"So she has no ties to the case other than she bought the building. Has the building been searched since she took ownership," Suit one asked.

Gerry stared, "yeah. We didn't find anything. What's your point?"

"Then why'd you bug her apartment and phone? Where's the warrant for that," Suit Two asked.

Nunez glared, 'did one of my guys go to IAD?"

"We get an email from a service that doesn't exist that states listening devices, locations and serial numbers. You have two options. Pull all surveillance on Tiffany Davareaux and take a week off, or we can do it and you get reassigned to patrolman in another precinct. Either way this is where she starts being left alone. Take your pick," Suit one stated.

Gerry Nunez was angry now, "Cap there's something going on! This chick comes out of no where and buys the building. She's connected!"

Suit one showed him the title, "she doesn't own it. Its owned by a Consulting firm in the Bahamas. They're her sponsor. Its listed as a private dance studio and corporate lodge. Two cars are registered to the same address in her name but were bought by the same firm and they're also on the utilities. That firm has her and some other girl. A model from the Bahamas. They do PR work. Shut down the stalking before she figures it out and files a complaint."

"Cap," Gerry protested.

The Captain shook his head, "sorry Ger. IAD is right on this one. Pull the bugs and detail. Do it now."

Detective Nunuez slammed the door on his way out.

 

~o~O~o~
 

Tiffany looked at her phone. The text message set her on edge.

SD. status upgrade: standby for no-notice deployment. Arrange air travel. Office.

Tiffany deleted the message then called the bank in Zurich again. She transferred another one hundred thousand dollars to the Fixer's account then called him.

"Tiffany. I hope the limo service met with your approval," Kent Dalton asked

Tiffany turned on the charm, "oh of course it did! Kent I do need something though. There's a small business matter that may require my very urgent attention. I'd like to book a charter plane. A Learjet. If the problem sorts itself out in the next three days or so then I won't need to go. Would twenty thousand have transportation fueled and waiting for the next forty-eight to seventy-two hours?"

"Oh that sounds very serious. I can arrange that. Anything else I can do to help with the problem," Kent asked.

Tiffany gentled her voice, "I don't think so. Things sort out themselves or they don't. You know how it is."

The Fixer laughed, "I certainly do. For you, twenty thousand will have a Lear waiting until monday morning. To hold it until tuesday would have to be thirty."

Tiffany sighed, "very well. Thirty for until tuesday. Thank you Kent. I'll call you as soon as I know what I'm doing."

She disconnected and went back to the apartment. It was obvious someone had been inside again. Tiffany ran a sweep and found all the bugs had been removed, not relocated. That was fine to her. None of her weapons or other gear had been discovered. She readied her go-bag and waited.

 
 
 
 
 

Tiffany Davareaux cameos in Chrysalis Project: Ghost Moth The Dark and The Angel, LKM 41- Angels and Animosity and returns in Chrysalis Project: Dove's fury