The Terrorist's Game (Level 1)

By Terri Dixon

In a complicated post Covid era filled with peaceful governments that are manipulated by separatist groups trying to dominate the world, Talia Anderson has a particularly difficult situation. As the Director of Security for the United Nations, she is responsible for protecting some of the most important people from all over the globe, but her personal life keeps getting in the way.
With her mother hiding at her estate in Connecticut, her father in law becoming the President of Russia, and her teenage daughter, Anya missing; she barely has time to deal with the frustrating Cameron Walker who mysteriously appeared in her life from absolutely nowhere.
In order to rescue her daughter, she must allow Cameron to help her unravel the advanced technology used by the separatists, and work with her father in law, Eduard, and her personal security team on the road through Europe to solve a years old puzzle.
The Alder Nation claimed responsibility for her daughter's abduction, but has not demanded anything since they forced Eduard to run for President. As the search continues, the location and activities of the group and their leader, Percival unfold. Talia realizes that she is chasing the ghost of her dead husband across Europe to Lviv, Ukraine in a game that was organized to eventually allow a single separatist group to conquer and rule the world.
Talia must find her daughter and stop the Alder Nation from terrorizing her family any longer with a global chase that ends in a confrontation to stop at least one level of "The Terrorist's Game."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terri Dixon
• Release date: Jan 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005576196

Terri Dixon

Terri Dixon is the well traveled internet writer, blogger, and photographer; Nina Kindred. Nina has been writing stories on Fictionpress for nearly 20 years. She has been writing her travel blog, Adventures for Anyone on blogger for over 10 years. She sells her photography at her shops Artistic Creations by Nina Kindred on Cafepress and Imagings on Zazzle. She also has a gallery on Fine Art America. The Ring of the Queen is her first full length novel, and is Book I of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. The Queen in Exile, is Book II of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. Catherine III, The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book III in which the battle for Russia is at last decided. The Destiny Dream is Terri's stand alone novel about the adventures of a young woman who is trying not to believe that her recurring dream is a view into her future. The Terrorist's Game Level 1 is the story of Talia Anderson and her international adventures. Greenville, Dynasty of the North Woods, a thriller that takes place in the wilds of northern Maine has arrived here! It's one of my most popular stories. Even the reviewers love it! New on Amazon is "Bourbon," the second Every Woman has a Story who's taking on Manhattan and her dysfunctional family through trials and tribulations. On Amazon and Kindle is "Alice" who is making her way humorously through a mid life crisis. Terri is a journalist who never completely took to the trade. She has a day job, a night job, and many hobbies including travel, hiking, cooking, and recently kayaking. She lives in the northwest hills of Connecticut with her husband and their temperamental kitty, while her son pursues his dreams in professional auto racing.

Book preview

Part I

I keep waiting to meet a man who has more balls than I do.

-Salma Hayek

Talia Anderson sat straight up in bed, sweating profusely, shaking violently. The sun illuminated her bedroom through the floor to ceiling wall of windows that separated her from her 65 story high terrace that overlooked Manhattan. The borough below and the nearly 2 million people in it, had no idea and frankly, didn't care that one of the richest women in the country was waking to the searing sun from a nightmare that she had nearly every single night.

She shook her head full of long curly bright red hair and rubbed her bright blue eyes, then dropped her head into her pale white hands and cried. No one should have to deal with this.

Nearly every night, the tortured woman's mind took her to a mysterious place in a haunting dream. She passed through a crowded old town square in her dream to a house in the middle of a row of like houses at its edge. There were at least six houses that appeared to be a single block long building, indicative of old world Europe. She walked to the black one. It was the only black stone house in the row. She stopped in front of it and looked at the carvings above the doors and windows. They were nearly white against the black stone walls. What may have been a Madonna perched over the door, and a man on horseback and a man in robes over the windows. Over the large wooden doors it said museum. There was a sign on the doors that said closed. Both were in Cyrillic. She reached out for the doorknob, turned it, and went inside.

Inside was what appeared to be an office. She waited. A man entered the room from a door behind the massive carved wooden desk that sat in front of her. His hair was nearly black, his forehead long, his expression brooding, his eyes so dark brown they were nearly black. He was tall and broad shouldered with muscular arms and a narrow waist like a body builder. The man was Dmitri, Talia's husband.

The two had an entire conversation, but she could not remember what it was about. She remembered that he'd smiled at her, and remembered feeling hatred toward him. She could only remember so much of her nightmare but definitively remembered that Dmitri turned into a giant red serpent, towering over her. She pulled a gun from somewhere on her person, but where she had no idea. In what she could only presume was a fit of rage and fear, she leveled the gun at the serpent, and shot it. That was all she could remember, because that was when she always woke up.

Why would she shoot the man that she’d loved nearly half of her life? Why would she dream such a horrifying thing? She thought that maybe she was angry with him for dying, but that didn’t make any sense. It wasn't his fault he was murdered. She missed him desperately every minute of the day and night. She hadn’t so much as noticed another guy since the day she met Dmitri. Talia had been devoted to her husband. She idolized him, and wanted nothing more than for his death to never have happened so she could be with him. Where was the house that she was dreaming about, and why had the man she loved suddenly turned into a serpent in her dream?

She shook off the post nightmare anxiety. It was only a nightmare, no matter how many times she had it and she had more pressing matters at that moment. First, and foremost was the situation that had landed a man, whom she'd never met before 12 hours ago, on the sofa in front of her fireplace.

Talia exited her room, then stopped and stood behind the dark grey linen overstuffed sectional sofa that set the tone for her uniquely designed living room that was a complex mix of girly girl and tomboy casual. The room was most of one side of her penthouse covering nearly 2,000 square feet of the dwelling. Chango & Company designers had created for her an area that could accommodate cocktail parties, yet be a great Saturday spot to watch her Hoyas play football.

Both the carpeted and tile sections of the floor were pale pink, which even though she had Raggedy Ann red hair, was her favorite color. She often considered dying her hair pink, but she couldn't bring herself to alter the family hair color. The linen upholstered grey sofas of various prints were designed for comfort and went well with pink. Throw pillows were pink. Rugs were varying colors of pink. The walls were almost white they were so light a grey. Artwork was feminine, delicate and from all over the world. In the middle of the living room was the free standing electric fireplace, and separating the living space from the kitchen was a fully stocked bar entirely made of hand carved wood. The media wall and the wall of windows completed the room opposite one another.

The man was still there, asleep on her sofa, sprawled out across both sofa and the overstuffed ottoman that she preferred to a chaise. He was taller than she'd first thought. There was something athletic about his thin body. Had he not been dressed in cheap off the rack clothes that reminded her of a college professor, she would have pondered whether or not he might play the position of guard in basketball. His straight plain brown hair needed both a cut and style, and some highlights to accentuate his dark Italian looking skin. Talia guessed his age was roughly 35. His thick lensed glasses, lying on the floor where they must have fallen as he slept, made her think that he may be intellectual.

Who are you, how did you breach my security, and why did the Ambassador of Qatar, Taheem Sarraf's security team attack you? Talia wondered.

She looked around for the man's phone, which she found under his left foot, encased in a black Otter Box. She turned it on to find that it required a thumbprint for access. Talia thought about the moral ramifications of using his thumb to break into his phone, but after careful consideration, realized that she just didn't care. She wanted to know who he was and what he was up to.

Once she'd shoved the phone under his dangling thumb, she didn't find much to feel guilty about. There were only a couple of contacts that meant nothing to her. There was no call history, very few apps, and no texts. There were a bunch of pictures from last night's party stored on the phone's micro SD card. Nearly all of the pictures were of her, so she erased the pictures and placed the phone back where she found it. The man's name did not appear in any file, so he was still a mystery.

She picked up her universal remote from a table and walked back to stand behind the sleeping man. She turned on her media center, all to the same channel, turned the volume up on the surround sound to full blast, and turned on Fox News. She didn't realize that at that exact moment, they were airing a story about a terrorist attack in Jerusalem, and an explosion was happening as the TV's came on.

The sleeping man jumped up, nearly falling as he did so. What the hell?

Talia turned down the volume. Did you have a nice rest?

He rubbed his eyes. Actually, yes. At least until the explosion.

Good. Can I ask you a question?

Sure.

She sat down adjacent to him on the sofa. Who the hell are you?

I’m Cameron Walker.

Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Talia Anderson.

Likewise. Where am I? Cameron looked around the room, noticing all of the pink. Am I trapped in a modern Barbie dream house?

This is my apartment, she replied. You have no idea how you got here, do you?

He rubbed the back of his head. Not really. I remember a party. I remember some really big guys attacking me. I remember drinking a whole lot. I think I remember the inside of a limo. That’s about it. He moaned. I don’t mean to put you out, but would you happen to have an aspirin?

Aspirin I have. She left the room and returned with a bottle of aspirin and water. You remember the key points. Why did you take all those pictures of me? My security team doesn’t allow strangers to photograph me. Who are you?

I was invited to the party, Cameron said, putting his phone in his pocket and taking an aspirin.

Talia sat down in front of him on her pink acrylic coffee table. "I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you, but you look more like the kind of guy who would teach a history class than someone who would be at an Embassy function in the Hamptons. Besides, you weren't on the list.

Now, why would you want to take my picture? I’m not a movie star, and I’m not young and sexy. I’m an international security systems contractor and terrorism analyst. Do you even know what that is?

Yes, he groaned. I worked in research and development for systems security for a very large computer firm. By the way, you are kind of sexy; just saying.

Worked? Talia noted, ignoring his comment about her sexuality. You mean that you are no longer a lab rat?

I hate that term, but yes, I've unofficially retired from the field.

Why? Are you wanted for some kind of criminal practice?

Not that I know of. I wanted to get out of the lab and have a life.

And your first move as a non lab rat was to crash the embassy party in the Hamptons?

It was an assignment.

Assignment? She stood up. You'd better be talking about espionage, because my second guess is that you work for a tabloid site.

Talia Anderson hated tabloid sites and paparazzi more than she hated war and murder.

What’s wrong with me being paparazzi? Cameron asked. I just wanted a picture.

Why? she asked. No one cares about ambassadors. There were no celebrities that a tabloid site would pay for a picture of.

My sources said that your mother was supposed to be there.

Really? My mother? That's what this was all about? She resisted the urge to kick him in the nuts. Tabloid people drove her crazy. They were a substantial part of the reason why she had a nervous breakdown and quit show business. Why would you try to put her through any more of that?

Just trying something new.

You wanted to try something new, and paparazzi is what you came up with? Who are you working for? Why me, and why my mom? She hasn't been out in the world much for years.

Cameron sat and stared silently at Talia.

No answer? she asked as she got up and walked to the windows. Okay, no problem.

Really? he asked.

She spun around to face him. No! Tell me what's going on or I'll have my guys who rescued you last night, come and work you over.

No, please. Those guys are scary. I’ll tell you, but you’re going to laugh.

Good.

There was something different about the guy. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Whatever it was about him, it had made him the first man that she had in her apartment for non-business related reasons ever. I could use a good laugh.

He scowled at her. He hated the smile she was wearing. He knew that he was not going to get out of her apartment without feeling humiliated. He was frustrated because he didn't want to leave Talia Anderson with the impression that he was a wimpy geek.

Realistically, how bad could it be? You were already rescued from a seriously unbalanced fist fight at a Qatar Embassy function by two bodyguards who could throw you around like a basketball, then tossed into a limousine by the seat of your corduroy slacks, and delivered here to sleep on my sofa. Could the back story be any more embarrassing than that?

Fine. He realized suddenly that you didn’t say no to Talia Anderson. You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?

She smiled. I know. It's part of my charm.

He couldn’t argue that. She certainly was charming, in an annoying sort of way and obviously loved being in control. If you must know, I was auditioning for a spot with the Post.

She studied him. She thought him fascinating. He was the first interesting man that she’d met since Dmitri. Why were you shooting me? You said you were looking for my mom.

It all started because, after working with computers for years, I decided that it was time for me to make a career change, so I moved from Seattle to New York.

You mean, you thought you could just show up here and instantly become a tabloid reporter? How did that work out?

I thought that I had an in. I knew a systems administrator there, and I wrote some security code for The Post a few years back. I talked to one of the editors when I got to town.

And?

And, she made me a deal.

What kind of a deal? she asked.

She told me that I could have a job, if I got pictures of your mom.

Talia stood up and walked to the door. She opened it and turned to Cameron. Get out.

The guy had struck her as different, but she'd been wrong, and she hated being wrong.

Ms. Anderson, please. It’s not like that. I wanted to meet you too.

Get out!

Fine. He got up and walked to the door. Do you listen to everybody this well?

She didn’t answer or look at him.

He was fuming. I can see why no one in the world can get to know you. I suppose you’re just like your mom. Do you hide like her? Is that why you live in this glass tower?

She didn’t reply.

Great. I met the infamous Talia Anderson. Security administrator for the whole United Nations and everyone in it. The woman who knows more about modern separatist issues than potentially anyone else on Earth. She's smart, but crazy and she wakes up screaming bloody murder. She won’t have a civilized conversation with a member of the opposite sex, but she's a Hoya's fan. You don’t know me. I’m not some scumbag reporter. I’m a nice guy. I just wanted to join the rest of the human race and meet some interesting new people. I wanted to get out of my lab and live, but you won’t give anyone a chance. Good bye princess. He grabbed the door out of Talia's hand and slammed it behind him as he walked out.

She stood there after he left for a moment in her Hoya's t-shirt and Fabletics shorts. I had no idea that I screamed when I woke up from dreaming. Wasn't he asleep?

The Terrorist's Game

Part II

There's a lot of conning as part of our society, I think.

- Sigourney Weaver

Talia walked into her office suite in the subterranean area of the United Nations Building half an hour late. She had taken some time to shake off the altercation that she had with Mr. Walker at her apartment. She was bothered by the incident. For some reason that she could not qualify, she cared what the guy thought of her. She couldn’t figure out why she would care what he thought about anything. She didn’t want to deal with any man, but there he was, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He made her edgy. His angered description of her had been insulting and made her sound like a spoiled rotten princess, and she couldn't stop thinking about it. He even called her princess. Why did that moniker irritate her so? She knew that she was a hard working honest capable woman, and commanded respect from everyone, male or female; but somehow this strange man was making her question her stature.

Where did that guy come from? she wondered. Why do I care what he thinks? He obviously has me confused with my mother.

Michael Monroe, one of Talia's assistants and bodyguards joined her at the main entrance of the U.N. compound, followed her through the lobby, through the gallery past Rockwell's Golden Rule, down the stairs, and along a hallway into her assigned office suite. Michael was the bodyguard who threw Cameron Walker into the limousine at her request the previous evening. He was a young man of 25, six feet three inches tall with hair so light it was almost white. He was close to albino, with faded blue eyes and pale skin that burned easily to a bright pink when in the sun. His exotic look was nicely complimented with broad shoulders and rock hard abs. Michael was recently honorably discharged as a Specialist from the Army Rangers and one of the very few people on Earth that she trusted. He was the son of one of her mother's best and oldest friends, William or Will Monroe. William was a Staff Sergeant during his career with the Army and had gone to high school with Clarissa. Michael was a good son, a good Ranger, and one of Talia's staunchest protectors. Sometimes he seemed more of an over protective brother than an employee with a loyalty that could only come from elite military service and homage paid to a well respected father, but that made her comfortable. She wouldn't have wanted someone who was just in it to get paid. She had never been poor, but she believed that money simply shouldn't always be the most important thing in life. Honor, love, and family, and friendship; all should come above money.

Talia attempted to ignore Michael's overbearing behavior of literally shadowing her. She walked into her personal office and sat down at her rebelliously pink desk and grabbed her mail. There was a mural of a desert sunset painted on the wall behind her and with the delicate colors of the desert at twilight; it blended right in with the pink desktop and made everyone forget that they were actually sitting in a cellar.

She sorted through her mail, one piece at a time and then tossing it all in the garbage as junk in the same fashion.

Did you do the morning sweep? she asked Michael.

Of course, he replied.

A morning security sweep was done of the entire compound and adjacent areas every day. Security recordings were studied and analyzed for anything that might prompt improvements in the security system. The meeting chambers and offices were swept for potential listening devices or cameras, incendiary devices or explosives. Reports of any incidents were reviewed. The food vendors across the street were checked from the taco stand all the way to the frozen yogurt vendor. The videos of the grounds and the East River were also reviewed. It was necessary to monitor traffic along the waterway, in case of suspicious activity because the complex sat near the shore. Michael was in charge of all of those activities and normally had them completed with a written report ready for her by the time she came to the office.

Anything of concern? Talia asked, tossing aside the written report that Michael had left for her on her desk and trusting his opinion.

Not at the U.N., Michael said, grinning at her.

She glared at him from behind her pink Ralph Lauren reading glasses. He smiled at her from the straight backed chair on the opposite side of her desk. What?

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching her face. Rough night? he asked, trying not to giggle.

Shut up, she snapped as she threw a paper clip at him. Why did you let him come back to my apartment? Isn't the definition of personal security to not leave me at my private home with a total stranger?

Hey, that was your idea, he replied. I would never have taken him there. It was a disaster waiting to happen. You insisted that he was harmless. I tried to stay and watch him, but you ordered me to leave. You are the boss unlike some other security officers, I want my job.

Since when do you listen to me? she argued. You've never once listened to a word I've said after a cocktail party. And you've never once cared that I'm the boss any more than anyone else has around here. What if he'd been an axe murderer?

You got all uppity with me and talked to me like I was a slave or a child, he replied. You had a couple of drinks yourself and told me to mind my own business. So, I did. Do axe murderers dress like college professors?

Fine, I guess I deserved that, but I count on you to have the brains sometimes. You were right. She sighed and slammed her fist on her desk. That asshole took pictures of me! She flopped back into her chair. He just wanted to meet mom anyway.

Michael’s expression softened, yet his smile continued to widen. You liked him! Oh my God! I’ve never seen you intrigued by a man before! He seemed like such a geek with tweed. I had no idea that’s what you liked. I never would have pictured you with a geeky skinny clumsy dude. I always pictured you with a powerful confident ass kicking dude.

I didn’t like him, she snapped. I do like manly men. I felt sorry for him, you know, like a lost puppy. Unfortunately, he bites.

Did you mean that in a bad way? he asked.

Smart ass. She threw another paper clip at him. Enough of this blather. I have work to do here today. Let’s forget all about Cameron Walker.

Okay, but what about the pictures you mentioned? he asked.

I erased his card before I woke him up this morning. She smiled an evil smile. Cameron is apparently trying to be a tabloid reporter, but he's really inexperienced. He’s gonna be pissed when he discovers that his pictures are missing. He actually tried to tell me that he didn’t remember anything about last night. My bullshit detector went off on that one.

Well, he seemed pretty drunk, Michael noted. Would you like me to check into him? What if he was playing you? He might want something more from you. No offense, but you have some extremely high clearance here at the U.N. and several government agencies around the world.

You saw this guy, right? she scoffed. Besides, I ran a check on him this morning, she lied. He's no one.

No one? he asked.

No one, she insisted. He's some high tech research and development lab rat that decided to get out of the lab. He's nobody.

Michael thought about what she said. He was fairly certain that she hadn't checked Cameron Walker, because she always had him run background checks for her. He really didn't think that she knew how. However, he was sure that she wasn't interested in seeing the man again. He got the sense that Cameron had crossed some sort of a line and that she truly never wanted to see him again. The one thing that struck him was that he had never seen her pay the slightest bit of attention to any man. The way she behaved when introduced to men was as though she didn't see them at all. Talia Anderson ignored men as though she had something far more important on her mind at all times.

Why was Cameron different? Michael wondered.

Talia snapped Michael out of his distracted thoughts. What's on my agenda today?

Taheem called and wished to meet with you, he replied.

Ugh, she groaned.

Taheem Sarraf was the United Nations Ambassador from Qatar. He was in town for a meeting of the United Nations Security Council. His father, previously the U.S. Ambassador from Qatar, had discovered the West Hampton Dunes on Long Island when he came for meetings in New York decades before. Taheem's father had so fallen in love with the dunes by the shore that he built a family vacation cottage there with a miniscule amount of his crude oil money. The family beach cottage was a lovely modern home with a wall of windows facing the ocean that stretched the entire three floors of the 8 bedroom, 9 bath structure. It was made for entertaining and impressing all who visited. It was one of the most exclusive homes in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods on Long Island, yet the barrier island had a public national seashore at the end. There was no public parking, but if you didn't need a place to park, you could go to the beach in Taheem's neighborhood. As a result, Taheem Sarraf relied on Talia's private security service to make sure that no undesirables ever slip in to one of his events.

He didn't say what he wanted to discuss, Michael said.

I think we both know precisely what he wants to discuss, she commented.

Taheem was going to ask her who Cameron was and how he got through her security and into his elite, listed guest only, party.

Of course, Michael answered. You should meet with him, irregardless.

Where did he wish to meet and when? she groaned.

O'Hara's. Noon.

She felt her temples where her current stress headache was living. Coffee, please?

Michael stepped out briefly to the coffee shop upstairs and got Talia her favorite iced coffee, extra light with extra sugar and returned to the office to find her staring at her iPad.

Coffee, he said as he sat the plastic cup where she could reach it easily on her desk.

You know he called me princess, and not in a good way, she said.

Who? he asked.

Cameron Walker, she replied.

Michael started to think that he might have a problem with his boss. She was distracted. He had written off the fact that her dress was out of the ordinary as she had replaced her Jason Wu