The Invisible Enemy: Black Fox by Anthony R. Howard

Author:Anthony R. Howard
Format: epub

Walter Plack yawned and woke up, nearly forgetting he was in a hotel bed. He remembered he was in the Westin in Washington, D.C., and he wished Sharon was with him now. His heart still ached from the loss of his brother. He had slept deeply. It was the nature of grief. He sat up and breathed heavily, hoping no tears wanted to pour forth. The phone was ringing loudly, and it sounded to his ears like a foghorn.

“Hello?” Plack answered groggily.

“Mr. Plack?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is the front desk. You have an urgent message.”

“Go ahead.”

“The message is confidential and sealed. You’ll have to come down and pick it up yourself at your earliest convenience.”

“Thank you.”

“Enjoy your day, Mr. Plack.”

Plack knew that the message wasn’t from the Alpha Sector or Hughes. They would have used the IAT, or at least the ComLink.

Plack got out of bed and immediately got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He took the elevator down to the lobby and walked to the front desk, still a bit sleepy.

“You have something for me?” he asked the woman at the front desk.

“Mr. Plack?” the attendant asked, much too cheerily for 7:00 in the morning. Though she was dressed as professionally as the other attendants, Plack knew instantly that the woman was new on the job.

“Yes,” Plack said, showing identification.

The attendant reached under the desk and grabbed an envelope. She placed it on the counter and smiled.

“When did this come in?”

“About four o’clock this morning. Of course, we didn’t want to wake you up. He said it wasn’t necessary to do so but insisted it was urgent. The messenger also gave us explicit instructions that this message be put directly into your hands.”

“It was urgent, but you weren’t supposed to wake me up? That doesn’t make any sense. Besides, you woke me up anyway. Who left this?”

“He flashed some kind of badge. He said he was one of your coworkers.”

Plack knew instantly the messenger’s story was a lie. This was not CIA procedure for contacting another agent. As a matter of fact, it violated roughly three rules of contact. Plack turned his back to the attendant and opened the letter. It was a store-bought “Thinking of You” card. On the inside of the card was a typewritten phrase: “It is not what you see. It is what you do not see.”

“Who left this? Give me a description.”

The woman thought for a moment. “Hispanic male, pretty nice suit, short, black hair.”

“How tall?”

“Rather short, actually.”

“Which way did he come in?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Which way did he go out?”

“I’m not sure of that, either.”

“Let me speak to your head of security.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Just get me the head of security and there won’t be a problem.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman went into the back and came out with a well-dressed man who seemed full of energy.

“Yes, sir, I am Reginald Morgan, head of security. How may I help you this morning?”

Plack flashed his identification. “I need to see all of your surveillance camera’s tapes from 3:30 to 4:30 this morning.

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