"Dace" Shepard, Lieutenant Commander, U. S. naval reserve, ex-U. S. Navy, is a graduate student in Germanics at the University of Washington. Widowed at 38 when his wife and their two youngest children died in an automobile accident in Italy during active duty as assistant naval attaché in Bonn, Germany, he opted for early retirement from the Regular Navy and civilian life with his surviving oldest daughter, then just 15. Professionally fluent in German and conversant in Russian; 6'–5" 200 pounds, muscular, medium build, medium complexion, brown hair, his beard – he grew it out once while at sea – tending to streaks of red in the sunlight. Some of his Navy time had been in submarine reconnaissance operations, and in Hawaii he was briefly involved in some investigative work with Soviet Bloc merchant ships where his Russian language skills were applicable. His professional objective now is an advanced degree in Germanic Languages and a university teaching position or some similar language intense professional work. His daughter is now herself at the university, a freshman in Humanities and Journalism.
Christine Stempler, turned 18 as she graduated summa cum laude from a highly regarded all-girls academy, daughter of professional, bilingual parents at home in Zurich and Sankt Gallen in eastern Switzerland. Interested in the Humanities, especially literature, art and drama, and anxious to move beyond her all-girls school years, which increasingly seemed to confine her, she is an attractive, vivacious and engaging young lady. The traditional, conservative attitude of her family and the strictness of her schooling have instilled strong values of personal integrity, yet the beginnings of her maturing as a young woman and the awakening of natural impulses and desires have been played down as less than worthy of her. Such has become increasingly the focus of her interest, but she has had very few resources on which to draw for a broader and more balanced understanding. She is innocent and naïve, and in many ways unprepared for the world at large; she is nevertheless intellectually keen and quick to learn, rather open-minded, but neither easily swayed nor frivolous in her thinking. Born in Switzerland; 5' - 8", 125 pounds, 36-22-35, long auburn hair, delicate features; physically healthy and trim, though not vigorously active; she has been anticipating something of romance and love in her future. Examples in literature are intriguing, but she wants to move on in her own life. Love and romance in real life and all that went with them were yet but an intriguing mystery. Her own parents had always been rather austere and school leaders unapproachable as well. She is alert and emotionally sensitive, but very vulnerable.
* * *
Chapter 1
The Strangest Assignment
The woman on the phone only asked me a couple of questions to establish my identity for sure. They had to do with my naval service so I concluded that somehow the Navy was involved. Then she asked if I had a valid driver's license and a current passport, how was my German, and was I available for a possibly extended job.
I was in fact between jobs, as they say, though engaged in full time graduate studies and doing some temp work on the side while writing a few pieces for publication. At the moment, we were between classes at the end of the spring quarter and I was enjoying the short break. However, since I wanted to be honest in my responses, I was. Yes, yes, good, and yes.
She thanked me in an officious tone and invited me to an interview the next morning. We established a time and she gave me an address downtown, floor number and room number, and admonished me not to be late, and sounding like a distraught mother to a wayward child, and hung up.
That was that.
Mysterious, I thought. No company name, no reference, no nothing. It was mid-afternoon, the call had completely derailed my research and writing for the moment, so I hopped a bus downtown to scout the building and see what I could find. Nothing! On the same floor was a dentist's office and two other tenants, but the room number and those on either side were vacant... well, at least unmarked in any way... even more mysterious.
The brief meeting the next morning – no, I was not late – was very James Bondish, which is to say not desirable to me at all. My interviewer captured my attention immediately by identifying himself as a federal agent of the office of such-and-such. I had been very familiar with the organization of the Navy Department and portions of Defense and State from my work in years past, but this one was an assembly of words that ought to have been familiar, I thought, but I couldn't place it. I wanted to ask him more about it but he waved the idea away with a sweep of his hand. It was a distraction that he quickly added that acceptance of the assignment meant immediate recall to active duty from the reserve at full pay and allowances at my current rank.
Oh,
really
? I thought that something special. However obscure the agency, they clearly had pull in high places. Now, money isn't everything, but it's nice to have around in plentiful quantities when you need it.
The thirty-something man in a trim business suit was absolutely no-nonsense. They badly needed an agent not on their own rolls, he added in his direct manner, for an escort and protection assignment. They had done quite a bit of research on me, and the young lady to be escorted and protected had selected me from three choices they offered.
A young lady?
The one photograph I could see was a distant shot with her parents taken only a few weeks before. She looked to be in her late teens, tall, light brunette, nice – but too distant for details. The man told me the family was Swiss, spoke German and some English, and she was being hunted by a "middle-eastern syndicate" – whatever that meant. Was he being intentionally vague or was this an indication that he didn't know any more? My task would be to disappear with her, keep moving, and cover my tracks. There was an expensive-looking brown leather briefcase on the table. He opened it and indicated it was to be mine, complete with a wallet full of credit cards, $3,000 in cash in twenties and fifties – no, he was not concerned that I count it – and drop point locations, and, I noticed right off, a service-issue 1911 Colt .45 caliber automatic pistol and four clips of ammunition. I used to have one of those in my crypto safe aboard ship. I wasn't a firearms man and hadn't fired one of those things in years. I sensed this was a serious assignment, really serious. I waited for him to elaborate, but that was all he was going to say.
"Go, or no go?" he asked. This guy didn't waste words.
I thought about it for a moment. I was not a James Bond type, and moreover, didn't want to be. My Navy time and Russian language studies had lead to sufficient professional exposure to counter-espionage and KGB operational methods that I knew not to go there. That was not a lifestyle for me. Still, this seemed a reasonably easy assignment. Perhaps, I reflected, deceptively so. I ventured to fish for additional information. "Geographical limits on travel?"
"None."
"Who knows about me in the agency besides you?" I had to get some sense of how I might be tracked. It was an age old problem. The "syndicate" must have some knowledge of their own agents, but would soon sense that they had passed off their target to another. Any administrative paper trail was sure to become a focus for their scrutiny.
"Only me. I selected you after reviewing your file at Navy and will personally see to the payroll and recall matter. Navy has already agreed and awaits only my confirmation. Deposits to your NFCU account OK?"
Clipped, precise. No monkey business with this guy. Then the money aspect again. I had been relatively senior when I left active duty after the accident. With a teen-aged daughter, I felt my first obligation had to be to her. Graduate school and a more stable profession outside active service were more conducive to succeeding as a father, and my daughter was all that remained of my family. Lynn and the two younger children had died in a car accident in Italy a couple years before. I was recovering in some absolute sense, yet my heart was still in pieces and scattered.
A "protection" assignment? Was that for me?
"Yes, I suppose so." He had been pretty thorough. He even knew of my credit union account.
"Then," he continued in his precise manner, "I destroy all my notes and there is nothing at the agency to lead them to you. Nothing! Navy picks up the ball and carries you as on normal Navy assignment dedicated to this special duty." Clearly he knew the business, and had anticipated my concern. That was encouraging.
"Contact point for me?" Was I entirely on my own on this job? Any back up or logistics?
"In the briefcase... a cell phone number that comes to me direct. Call me on Mondays between 1 and 2 Pacific Time. There is also a dedicated e-mail address. I have one of your resumes and know you're computer literate. Get yourself a good laptop with all the bells and whistles. Special requests OK, periodic reports desirable. Let me know when you've used a drop point. Be brief."
The silence drew out a bit. I was impressed with his preparation, and could think of no additional questions at the moment and was probably trying his patience. The fact that they were providing me a firearm meant that they also foresaw the need for one. The somewhat less than welcome implication was that my life was on the line... mine as well as the young lady I would be "protecting." Me! U. S. naval reserve? Was I the man for this job? And precisely who were the "syndicate" he had mentioned... but, then, that didn't matter – "they" were the enemy now, and I thought I knew them from earlier experience at any rate. It occurred to me that my daughter might be endangered in the process, and that gave me pause; then – and this threw the entire matter into sharp relief –
that someone else's daughter already was
. That thought galvanized my thinking. I was going back to war!
My waiting elicited no further response. The money was good, the work challenging but hardly difficult, the company...
the company, I realized, had potential.
