Running With The Big Dogs: Sybil Norcroft Book Six by Carl Douglass Page A
Authors: Carl Douglass
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and the lengths to which those monsters would go to get that information out of you.”
“I have considered all of that, but I have to go. All I have been trained for would be wasted if I did not use that training for this, the most important mission of my career, past or future. I have put lots of thought into what would happen if I got caught. I have my second lower molar cyanide capsule which I can get reinserted tomorrow.”
“Well, Sybil, that certainly makes me feel a lot better,” Charles said, his face in a tight-lipped expression, “have you considered me in your social equation?”
“Oh, Charles, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I want you on my side. The CIA and the president will be after my hide when they learn that I’m gone. I will need your help and support.”
Charles could never deny Sybil anything she really and objectively wanted. He had no better option for how to get their daughter back either. He nodded his head in submission.
“How about if I go with you to give you a more convincing cover?”
“You know that’s impractical. First of all, we can’t risk both of us dying in the attempt to get her back. Think of what our little traumatized girl would think or do if both of us were to be dead when, by some miracle, she was brought back to Georgetown. Second of all, let’s be frank. I have a certain skill set that you don’t. I have killed people. I know how to do that.”
It was the first time he had heard that. He tried not to be, but he was shocked. That statement of hers seemed to be the ultimate trump card, and he folded.
Sybil made her preparations over the next four days. On the third day, another letter came which was the clincher. It arrived at the Senate Majority Leader’s office. It was a simple text: “You get your daughters back when you call off your dogs at the stock market. Give us a free hand, or you will never see them again. What’s money in comparison to a man’s daughter?”
That was all Sybil needed. The Russian mafia had her daughter. This was no bluff and no hoax. As soon as she received a copy, she called Mac Young, her faithful partner in most of her most dangerous missions in the past.
“Mac, you have already agreed to go with me and to bring along a dozen operatives. I want to add a couple of more experts in hostage rescue. Does the CIA have some real cutthroats who handle that sort of thing? I mean, the FBI is limited to the U.S., right?”
“Not exactly, but the FBI always has to get legal permission from the host country and won’t go in without it. They are pretty obvious as they enter the involved country—they stand out like military sore thumbs. And yes, we have a few guys we don’t talk about. They get things done; they don’t get public credit; and they don’t answer questions. If you go with them and me, you can’t make objections. They will do what they have to do, and that’s all there is to it. You up for that, Sybil?”
“For my daughter, I am. If I go to Russia without permission, I will likely be out of a job at the very least or go to prison for a very long time if the winds really shift against me. I will be in all the way, and I have to be the final arbiter of what the plan is. We can’t expose our country to an international hostile incident. Russo-American relations are too tenuous already. Every one of us has to be prepared to lay down our lives to avoid being captured or identified as Americans.”
“That’s a given. Let me make a couple of calls. I will see you tomorrow at Andrews AFB at nine sharp. Come prepared with ninja stuff, disguises, nasty toys, and leave your heart at home. This is where you know you have to get off the porch to run with the big dogs.”
Chapter Eleven
CIA Safe House, Central Moscow, Russia, Undisclosed Location, January 25, 2020, 0600 hrs
T he most important weapon Sybil brought with her was money. She did not carry the money herself. It was just numbers.
“I have considered all of that, but I have to go. All I have been trained for would be wasted if I did not use that training for this, the most important mission of my career, past or future. I have put lots of thought into what would happen if I got caught. I have my second lower molar cyanide capsule which I can get reinserted tomorrow.”
“Well, Sybil, that certainly makes me feel a lot better,” Charles said, his face in a tight-lipped expression, “have you considered me in your social equation?”
“Oh, Charles, please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. I want you on my side. The CIA and the president will be after my hide when they learn that I’m gone. I will need your help and support.”
Charles could never deny Sybil anything she really and objectively wanted. He had no better option for how to get their daughter back either. He nodded his head in submission.
“How about if I go with you to give you a more convincing cover?”
“You know that’s impractical. First of all, we can’t risk both of us dying in the attempt to get her back. Think of what our little traumatized girl would think or do if both of us were to be dead when, by some miracle, she was brought back to Georgetown. Second of all, let’s be frank. I have a certain skill set that you don’t. I have killed people. I know how to do that.”
It was the first time he had heard that. He tried not to be, but he was shocked. That statement of hers seemed to be the ultimate trump card, and he folded.
Sybil made her preparations over the next four days. On the third day, another letter came which was the clincher. It arrived at the Senate Majority Leader’s office. It was a simple text: “You get your daughters back when you call off your dogs at the stock market. Give us a free hand, or you will never see them again. What’s money in comparison to a man’s daughter?”
That was all Sybil needed. The Russian mafia had her daughter. This was no bluff and no hoax. As soon as she received a copy, she called Mac Young, her faithful partner in most of her most dangerous missions in the past.
“Mac, you have already agreed to go with me and to bring along a dozen operatives. I want to add a couple of more experts in hostage rescue. Does the CIA have some real cutthroats who handle that sort of thing? I mean, the FBI is limited to the U.S., right?”
“Not exactly, but the FBI always has to get legal permission from the host country and won’t go in without it. They are pretty obvious as they enter the involved country—they stand out like military sore thumbs. And yes, we have a few guys we don’t talk about. They get things done; they don’t get public credit; and they don’t answer questions. If you go with them and me, you can’t make objections. They will do what they have to do, and that’s all there is to it. You up for that, Sybil?”
“For my daughter, I am. If I go to Russia without permission, I will likely be out of a job at the very least or go to prison for a very long time if the winds really shift against me. I will be in all the way, and I have to be the final arbiter of what the plan is. We can’t expose our country to an international hostile incident. Russo-American relations are too tenuous already. Every one of us has to be prepared to lay down our lives to avoid being captured or identified as Americans.”
“That’s a given. Let me make a couple of calls. I will see you tomorrow at Andrews AFB at nine sharp. Come prepared with ninja stuff, disguises, nasty toys, and leave your heart at home. This is where you know you have to get off the porch to run with the big dogs.”
Chapter Eleven
CIA Safe House, Central Moscow, Russia, Undisclosed Location, January 25, 2020, 0600 hrs
T he most important weapon Sybil brought with her was money. She did not carry the money herself. It was just numbers.
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