Legendary Agent

By Flavio Olcese

An agent of a covert American organization, named The Dominion, must work to capture terrorist cells while avoid getting captured himself. Follow the life of an unnamed spy, with a dozen aliases through a labyrinth of deceptions and surprises. Get ready to enter The Dominion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Flavio Olcese
• Release date: Sep 9, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452394763

Book preview

LEGENDARY AGENT

__________________

FLAVIO OLCESE

Legendary Agent

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2008 by Flavio Olcese

Published by Flavio Olcese at Smashwords

Note: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

*****

Author’s Note

This story began, as all stories do, with a simple idea. The idea grew into an outline, and eventually into a dozen stories, the first three of which are presented here. The first part of this book was published briefly as a stand-alone short story. I had never set out to write a whole book, but sometimes things don’t go as planned.

Writing this book was a phenomenal process. It required an incredible amount of research and planning. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Fair Thee Well,

Flavio Olcese

*****

Part I

_________________________

The Tatiana Principle

*****

Chapter 1

The smell of the Pancake Palace in Santa Monica was intoxicating. All the locals came in droves on Saturday mornings. Considering the number of people waiting for a table, it was probably a vulgarity for me to be sitting alone in a booth drinking coffee. The owner loved it when I showed up though. The booth in which I was sitting was the only dedicated booth in the whole place. The Caliber Jones booth, named after a fictional detective who loved pancakes for breakfast and ripple for dinner, was in the back of the small restaurant by the kitchen. Caliber had been the mainstay of three of my mystery books, two of which mentioned this exact restaurant.

Through the front door I saw a rugged, good-looking man in his thirties walk in. He wore camouflage shorts and a pink shirt. He turned the heads of several of the women in the restaurant, even some of the ones with boyfriends in tow. It was all for naught; James was married and gay. He was fruitier than the tooth fairy.

I stood up as he neared my booth. He gave me a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. We then sat down opposite each other. As usual, I sat watching the entrance, with my back towards the kitchen doors. I doubted anyone beyond James and my employer knew I was here, but I had to take precautions just in case.

Hi Buttercup. Auggie sends his love. He wants to know when we’re going out to dinner, said James.

Buttercup, Cupcake and Honey Bunny were all pet names that James called me. I didn’t mind them, nor did his husband Auggie. Both of them knew that I was a one hundred percent heterosexual male, and not the least bit homophobic.

Dinner? I don’t know. I’m real busy lately and I can’t commit to anything right now. I’m taking it day by day. I’ll let you know. Maybe Tuesday night, I said.

Busy? You’re an author. Meaning you set your own hours. You’re single and not dating anyone. Your last three dates were set up by either me or Auggie. What are you so busy doing?

I’m on a roll with my new book. As a writer I know you can understand that. The only difference is that the articles for your newspaper might go four or five pages. My stories go for four hundred. So I’m busy, I replied.

James was the owner, publisher and editor-in-chief of the largest gay and lesbian newspaper in Los Angeles. I had never read his newspaper, but my employer had. On rare occasions I would send a coded message through the personals. It was the only newspaper I would use for communication with The Dominion. My communication, though, usually couldn’t wait a week to get out and I would use text messages most of the time.

The waitress came over and took our order.

I’ll have my usual and more coffee, I said.

I’ll have the lumberjack special with white toast, butter on the side, eggs over easy and the buttermilk pancakes. Can I also have some orange juice and coffee? said James.

Real healthy there, champ. You ordered enough food for two, I said.

James reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card. He slid it across the table to me. I picked it up. Special Agent Robert Benton, Federal Bureau of Investigations. I quickly memorized the contact information on the card and handed it back.

This guy came to see me yesterday, said James. He was looking for somebody named Ian Paul Daighly. He thinks I know him, or at the very least, that I have met him a couple of times. He was also looking for a woman that might be with him named Tatiana. He wouldn’t tell me much more, except that they were people of extreme interest to the Bureau. I don’t know anybody named Ian.

Have you done any research on this Daighly guy? I asked.

I have one of my reporters on it. It’s very hush-hush. I don’t want the FBI to link us to them. Whoever this guy is, he’s invisible. The FBI couldn’t even offer us a picture.

James, you got to watch out here. This isn’t like the story of the city council member spending ten thousand city dollars on his girlfriend in Vegas, while his wife is home with the kids. Think about it, why would the FBI come to a newspaper publisher for information? They know you’re going to chase the story. All they have to do now is keep tabs on you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they bug your office, apartment and car. They probably followed you here. I’d back off if I were you.

I’m not backing off. If they want me to find him, then I will. They get their man and I get my story. Everyone’s happy and we all live happily ever after.

Fine. I’ll visit you in Federal prison. By the way, let me tell you what you should already know. Whoever this guy is, Ian Paul Daighly is not his real name. It’s a fake. Hell, it’s a joke. I. P. Daily. That’s funny. And if he’s careful enough not to have his picture taken, then how is it that the FBI knows his full name? I think this guy let the name out for some odd reason. Tatiana? What is that about? How come there is no last name there? You’re looking for a ghost because that’s what he wants. I have a couple of feelers out on the streets. I’ll see what I can find out for you.

Well thank you, Caliber Jones. How you figure these things out is beyond me. So, how did your date go last night?

Lee Ann? Good. Nice girl.

"You’re not going to see her again are you? What’s with you anyway? You need to settle down already. You have a good career. You’re a good-looking guy. Hell, by my standards you’re a hottie."

Thank you, James. I appreciate that, but I’m not ready. I have a lot on my plate.

What happened with the date before Lee Ann? What was that woman’s name? The one Auggie set you up with?

"Faye, the cyclist. We went for a bike ride. She offered 40 miles, but I laughed at it, so she took me on a 60 mile, uphill both ways, ride to hell. She doesn’t look it, but that woman is pure energy. We had a nice conversation, between my heavy breaths," I said smiling.

So why didn’t you go for it? said James excitedly.

I couldn’t keep up. She and I move at different speeds. I’m a late evening runner. She likes morning cycling. I know when to stop. She could bike halfway to Utah before taking a break. I listen to Rock and Roll. She likes Megadeath. It wouldn’t have worked out.

I had really liked Faye. The Dominion had asked me to stay away from her. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t ask either. What I knew was that if I had to disappear, my friends would eventually stop looking for me. An email or letter would usually do it for a friend. But a lover would look for you forever. That’s why I was a one -date sort of guy.

"Fine, but at this rate, you’re going to run out of eligible women soon," joked James.

I got home by late morning and started planning my week. The presence of the Bureau was a pain, but not really an inconvenience. I was sure my employer was fully aware that they were in Los Angeles. Still, it was important for me to relay the information so they would know I knew.

My apartment was bugged by my employer. I knew of at least two cameras that were installed here, one in the kitchen and one in the living room. I knew it was them because I had asked. It was one of the few times that I questioned my employer, but I had only done it as a security measure.

The FBI is in Los Angeles, I said to nobody in particular. They’re looking for IPD but have no information. James has been compromised, but also knows nothing. Bureau knows the name Tatiana. Lead agent is Robert Benton.

I got a three dot text message on my phone. The three dots mean a lot of things. In this case it meant I should just continue as planned.

I spent Sunday morning working out. My routine, left over from my Army days, involved running, push-ups, sit-ups, swimming and some more running. I had found that it was harder to run on the beach and swim in the ocean. I was not one to take the easy road when it came to my workouts, so I went down to Venice Beach.

I spent the afternoon taking a close look at my assignment. I had all the facts in front of me, but I thought I was missing something. The only thing I was really missing was the solution. I didn’t have much time to figure this one out. I usually had these things wrapped up by now. I was under the gun to deliver results, and I wanted this to be over just as much as my employer did. I worked late into the night, as usual, but got nowhere.

*****

Chapter 2

I had sold my soul, but not necessarily to the devil. The Dominion had made me a very attractive offer back when I served with the Army Rangers. They would pay for my parents’ mortgage, in full, plus provide them financial support so they may live a comfortable life. In return, I could never see them again. My parents would be told that I died in combat. I had initially joined the Army to help them with their finances and if I gave my life for it, I thought they would understand. It seemed like the best thing I could have done to repay my parents for their love and support, but I had instead broken my mother’s heart. I never saw them again. I didn’t attend either of their funerals. I hadn’t even gone to visit their gravesites.

I had done some training in Russia, as well as Australia and Argentina. I had though the Rangers had made me a soldier, but with my extended training, I could do things that most people could only dream of. I could become anyone at any time, even create identities. I had become a highly skilled marksman. I spoke several languages. My employer had insisted on some minor plastic surgery. It had changed my appearance completely. I didn’t even exist.

My final destination was back in the United States. My mission was simple, infiltrate terrorist organizations by any means possible. The laws didn’t apply to my job, though if I got caught by any law enforcement organization, I would probably be terminated. Most of what I did was gather information, and then discreetly pass it on to those that could do the raids: the FBI, the DEA, local and state police, the Secret Service, NSA. Gather information, that was it. I had been trained to kill, but I hardly ever did. There was no need. After I was done, I would just vanish.

I had been working for The Dominion for about a dozen years. Los Angeles had become my home base. In my non-working time, I actually wrote books. It was a great cover. When I needed to travel, I would claim a book signing, or that my publisher needed to see me. As far as anyone knew, I spent days in my apartment writing. Sometimes I actually did write, but mostly I was out in the field.

For the better part of the last twelve months, I had been in contact with a foreign group out of Long Beach. My cover was usually as an arms dealer, but I was acting as a shipper within their organization. I still did not have any information on what I was transporting, or to where. I knew, though, that the product would be arriving in the Port of Los Angeles in the next ten days.

A few months ago I had been informed that Olga in Chicago and Adriana in Miami, both agents with The Dominion, were expecting shipments from Los Angeles. Instantly, the scope of our investigation had become huge and I had a lead role. The truth was that I didn’t think I would finish this assignment alive.

Daighly was the name I used with my marks. I wasn’t sure if they knew it wasn’t a real name. Ian Paul Daighly had no documents, had never signed any papers, he didn’t own anything. He was an identity without a body. That’s why I didn’t care that the Bureau knew about him. They would find him when I wanted them to find him, and not a second before.

I went to my small warehouse in City of Industry, near downtown Los Angeles, to try to figure out how to bring in arms through the Port. I had already been able to get some guns, rifles, AK47s, Uzis and even a grenade launcher through. The port was so big that there was always someone you could bribe.

I had brought in about eighty percent of the materials needed to build a dirty nuclear bomb. The one thing I didn’t have was the nuclear fuel. As far as I could tell, there was no way to get it in through the Port. I didn’t think that’s what was coming in, but I had to keep my options open.

I pored over files of several key personnel at the dock. I checked on the financial records of Port of Los Angeles police officers. They all appeared clean. I was missing something. Was there an unknown contact? And if so, who was it?

I went back to the basics, as I had done countless times before. There were three of them and me. The guy they said was their leader didn’t seem to be the point man. The quiet one was the leader. I was sure of it. But why hide it? Did they consider me a threat? I had been working with them for a year. What was I missing?

After a fruitless afternoon, I finally had enough. I sent a text message to James regarding his interest in Daighly. It was important for my sake and for his safety if he stopped investigating.

Rendezvous with Superman? Love, Benji.

The message used the same code that James and his newspaper’s reporters used. Rendezvous meant that the person sending the text needed to talk to the recipient. Superman meant that they should call back from a payphone. Naming of any famous dog meant that both parties needed to be careful of being tailed. I was sure that the FBI was watching James, probably bugging him too. I would go check on the Bureau later this week, but I had more important things to do right now. I got a call within ten minutes.

James, I got a hit on your phantom, I said.

You got Daighly in two days? How the hell did you do that? My team can’t find a damn thing on him. What do you have?

You’re not going to like it. He was seen last week in Orange County with some guys from the DAP. I hear he’s not one of them, but the organization is planning something big. That’s all I got.

"The Doctrine for Aryan Power? He’s working with the skin- heads? That can’t be good."

Do me a favor James. Let this one go. I don’t want to see you get hurt, I said.

Yeah, you’re right. This one is out of my league. Thank you.

James wasn’t going to let it go. I knew that. I also knew that there was no way neither he, nor anyone from his paper, could get close to DAP. That organization was full of home grown terrorists who wouldn’t hesitate to kill a gay person. Anyway, now he was chasing a ghost in the wrong direction.

No problem. Hey, why don’t we do dinner on Wednesday night? I said.

Yeah that sounds good. I’ll see if Auggie is free. Let’s make it seven o’clock.

My last order of business before I went home was to get rid of the weapons I had collected. I sent a text message to my employer.

Move warehouse merch.

My three-dot reply came quickly. They would probably come tonight and get the weaponry, including my unfinished bomb. I would never see them coming or going.

My order of business that night dealt with our target cities, Chicago and Miami. A lot of work had been done to try to find out if any other cities were involved. As far as we knew, and we knew a lot, those two cities were it. If I could figure out what those two had in common, I could probably break the case wide open.

I had looked at economics, weather conditions, geography, geology, financials and a host of other factors, but nothing stood out. The one thing that I thought was relevant was that they were both port cities. On the other hand, there were larger and more important ports in Washington State and Texas. I couldn’t figure out why our marks had picked those cities. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason. There were more important targets all over the United States.

Last week, I had asked my employer to put everyone on high alert. I thought that maybe these cities were decoys. Something was going to happen and I still didn’t know what. There was a lot of frustration going around.

At the end of the night, shortly before I went to sleep, I got a call from one of my foreign contacts. Mr. Miller asked to meet me tomorrow afternoon at a coffee shop in West Hollywood. He was the quiet one; the one