The Gray Man Ch. 22 - Spy Game

The following Monday, Gray was back in the game. Early into the office for a final briefing with Amber, Greg, and Sharpshooter. Mark would brief the Admiral once he was done with his meetings with the Senate Intelligence Committee.

Everything was up to speed. TJ went to the house to prepare. He packed, took a long run which would hopefully allow him to sleep on the Air France Boeing 777-300. The flight would leave DC at 1830 hours and arrive in Paris at 0905 local time, which would be 0300 DC time. Gray was in for a long day, and flying commercial was different from a government or even military flight. He had to be fully into his alias just in case Nazir's people were keeping tabs on him.

The hustle and bustle of Reagan National Airport was in full swing as Gray made his way through the crowded terminal. Dressed in a well-tailored suit, his crisp features concealed behind a pair of designer sunglasses, he blended effortlessly with the throngs of travelers scurrying to catch their flights. The alias, Jonathan Barnes, was carefully crafted for this mission, designed to shield his true identity for as long as possible. Keeping the Nazir, and the others off guard was something Gray wanted to do for as long as possible. He already knew that Pavel and Anastasia had failed in their assassination attempt, and even worse had defected. Nazir knew that Ghost lived, and that was all he needed to know, for now.

Gray fell into his alter ego as soon as the CIA owned Uber picked him up at his house just after 1600 hours. Jonathan Barnes was an alias that Gray had developed during his years of training. Known as an international trade consultant, he specialized in brokering complex agreements between nations, navigating intricate political landscapes with finesse. This background provided him with a legitimate reason to travel extensively and engage with individuals from diverse backgrounds, effortlessly blending into high-level social circles while conducting his covert operations.

This was not always his mission with the Ranger Reconnaissance as most of their mission profile was to provide eyes and ears in the field for larger military engagements. However, for Ghost, sometimes those mission parameters called for him to do some deeper infiltration either in the Middle East or Eastern Europe. Thus was born Jonathon Barnes.

Gray approached the airline counter with practiced ease, presenting his British passport, bearing a perfectly forged identity. The ticket agent glanced at it briefly, their attention drawn to the captivating almost pale blue eyes that seemed to hold an air of intrigue, before issuing him his boarding pass for the Air France flight to Paris. His rakishly handsome smirk played on Grays' lips as he thanked the agent, tucked the documents away and proceeded towards the security checkpoint.

Passing through the rigorous security measures, Gray exuded an air of confidence, carefully maneuvering through the intricacies of the airport. His sharp eyes took in every detail, assessing the movements of his fellow passengers, searching for any signs of unusual behavior. He was attuned to the smallest nuances, a heightened sensitivity developed through years of covert operations. Ghost was trained to blend in, to be unremarkable. To the untrained eye he looked like an experienced traveler who knew the process of travel inside and out.

As he made his way to the departure gate, Barnes retrieved his agency phone from his pocket and dialed a secure line. Sharpshooter answered on the second ring. Their brief conversation was cryptic, yet purposeful, with Gray providing an update on his progress. Underwood assured him that all necessary resources were in place, ready to assist him once he arrived in Paris.

Before he hung up, Underwood added, "An MI-5 agent will meet you at the airport. The boss was forced to read them in." Before Gray could reply Underwood hung up and he heard the Air France flight was announced, and TJ joined the line for business class, his mind focused on the daunting task ahead. Taking his seat on the plane, he allowed a momentary sigh of relief. The journey from Washington, D.C., to Paris would provide a brief respite, an opportunity to gather his thoughts and refine his strategy.

The flight was long but uneventful. The private business class seats allowed TJ to go over the dossier on Ahmed and Fatima a few more times, as well as having time for a short nap.

Once inside Charles de Gaulle airport Gray retrieved his luggage and wound his way to the late October sky. The skies were gray and misty. It brought a smile to his face as he remembered his former platoon leader remarking that a cool, gray, misty day was a day made for the Army.

The former platoon leader was right. The softness of days made being a Ghost that much easier. Noises were masked, the air was heavy and scents didn't carry. This was a perfect Army day, but what was perfect in the field didn't necessarily translate to what was good in a city like Paris.

As Gray looked up and down the row of parked vehicles he quickly spotted the operative from MI5, as she leaned casually against a sleek black Range Rover parked near the exit. Her fiery red hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her sharp green eyes sparkled with a mix of determination and warmth. Fiona was a force to be reckoned with, a Glaswegian with a razor-sharp intellect and a knack for unraveling even the most complex of puzzles.

Gray's steps quickened, anticipation coursing through his veins as he approached the waiting Agent MacGregor. A small smile played at the corners of his lips as he reached her side.

"Fiona," Gray greeted her, his voice a steady and composed baritone. "Always a pleasure to see you."

Fiona pushed herself off the car, her smile mirroring Gray's own. "Likewise, Gray. It's been too long since our paths crossed." She looked Gray in the eyes, "Fiona MacGregor, in His Majesty's Service," she said crisply.

TJ's nose wrinkled, "That's new, I guess I need to get used to His Majesty if Jonathon Barnes was going to have any credibility."

Sinclair smiled, "It's taken the Brits awhile, and I'm not sure the Scots will ever catch up," she stated with a small laugh, her Glaswegian brogue dancing on TJ's ears.

The car sped through the Parisian streets, heading towards the heart of the city. Ghost glanced out the window, taking in the iconic landmarks that adorned the landscape. Their grandeur stood in stark contrast to the impending threat, a reminder that even the most magnificent of cities could be shaken by terror.

As the car pulled up in front of La Réserve Paris - Hotel and Spa, Gray took a deep breath. The time for play was over, the game he was entering was deadly serious.

Before they got out of the Range Rover, MacGregor reached out and touched his hand, "I have our background, just follow my lead."

The lobby's opulence welcomed the two agents. Gray paused and let his eyes adjust to the light. In seconds he had scanned the entire lobby, seeing what he believed to be a few other agents reading papers.

As they approached the clerk nodded at Fiona, "Mrs. Barnes, this must be your husband, I guess that my flirtation was all for naught.

."

Fiona smiled and spoke in almost perfect French, "I told you I was married, Matis, but thank you for indulging me with brief banter."

The young clerk blushed, "Oui, Madame"

Fional winked at the young clerk, "No longer Mademoiselle?"

His blush deepened, "Things have changed." He turned to TJ, "Monsieur Barnes, how long will you be joining your lovely wife?"

Gray paused, remembering to use a slight British accent. "As long as business takes."

Matis tried to make more small talk but Fiona cut him off. "Matis, my husband has had a very long flight and needs his rest."

Matis blushed again, "My apologies Madame." He produced the key as Fiona and Gray headed towards the elevator.

TJ murmured, "Married huh?"

Fiona kept her smile as she laced her hand into his arm, "I've been in the city for a few days, only got word of your arrival yesterday. Give me a break, I had to act fast. Plus, this is the same building where Nazir owns an apartment."

When they entered the suite Gray noted the elegance. A sitting area, a writing desk, floor to ceiling windows that opened onto a wonderful terrace and one king bed. Gray looked at Fiona, "One bed? Are you good with that?"

Fiona intentionally eyed her counterpart like she was selecting the proper cut of steak at a restaurant and bit her lip before smirking, "We are professionals - and if we choose to not be professional," she let her voice drop for a minute, "then it's a damn tough job, but I'm just the woman for it."

Gray chuckled, "From what I've heard, you are more than enough for it." He looked at his watch. I've been on the go since 1900 hours. Give me a minute to freshen up and grab some coffee and we can create a game plan. Gray slipped into the marble bathroom, with a large sunken bathtub, complete with hand held shower.

Gray freshened up, brushed his teeth, changed into a pair of charcoal pants and a white dress shirt and slipped back into the sitting area where Fiona was talking with two others.

Gray looked at the room before Fiona spoke, "Mr. Gray, this is Camille Dubois of the DGSI, and Erik Müller of the BfV"

TJ immediately sized up the two new agents. Camille Dubois was young, she looked to be in her late 20's. Chestnut colored hair pulled into a ponytail, black pantsuit, a bit more make-up than Gray was used to. Like many millennial women she had the cat-eye eyeliner down to a perfect science. She was slender and looked to be very fit underneath the suit.

Erik looked to be a bit older than TJ. Gray guessed mid 40's. He had done some field work, but as often happens with good field operatives, they got promoted. Erik had the stereotypical stoic personality which made him a very good supervisor. His graying hair and blue eyes stood out on a ruddy, tan complexion.

Ghost was pissed. It was one thing to include MI-5, and at least Underwood arranged for someone that they both knew. Having two others that he didn't know, pissed him off. Camille looked at him with suspicion, and Erik with a bit of admiration. Erik spoke, "It's an honor to meet The Ghost in the flesh. Honestly, I had thought The Ghost was nothing more than a legend."

Camille grunted, "I'm sure his exploits are exaggerated, it's what Americans do. He is the one that got both Bin Laden and Hussein bare handed. He beat them senseless with his 6 foot penis."

Fiona interjected before tensions could elevate, "Have a seat Gray, let's put our heads together and see what we have to work with."

Gray walked directly in front of Camille as she sat between the sofa and the table. He had to turn to pass through politely, which put the enormous bulge in his pants at eye level with the French agent who blushed profusely.

Gray pulled a white noise machine out of his bag and plugged it in near the door. Agent Dubois spoke again, "We have swept this room multiple times, there are no bugs present."

TJ nodded, "At least none that don't belong to your agency, and unless you have guards in the hallway anyone can walk by and listen in."

TJ had to fight from flying into a cold rage. Too many eyes equaled too many mouths which equaled lousy operational security. Gray worked alone and this was not his style of doing business.

They worked their way around the room. Everyone else shared what they knew about Fatima and Ahmed, which was absolutely nothing. Gray shook his head in disgust.

When the circle came to TJ he stood up and went to the door. Camille stood up, "Where do you think you are going, we aren't done with the briefing."

If eyes could kill, Camille would have been thrown against the wall to bleed out. Gray spun on her with anger, "I'm going to do what you or your fucking government couldn't do. Get information on our target. Your city, your country, hell on your continent and you can't provide movement patterns, habits, or even a current location. So, I will do what I do."

Fiona stood, "Gray, can you at least update us on what you know?"

TJ's eyes softened but his voice betrayed his frustration. "Call my boss, I do not have any more time to waste." He turned and closed the door, Camille's long string of obscenities in French trailing behind him.

Gray used the stairs to climb to the floor that The Omar's large apartment was on. He easily found the door and listened. There was no sound from inside so he slipped into the stairwell and back to the lobby area.

Falling back into character Gray, or Jonathon Barnes pulled out a copy of the Wall Street Journal and the Sunday London Times and found a seat that angled to face the approach to the elevators. Gray waited and watched as people came and went.

He smirked to himself when Camille and Erik went rushing out of the lobby, probably looking for Gray. Two hours later he hit the jackpot, Ahmed and Fatima entered the lobby, speak to the concierge before they entered the elevator.

Gray had good eyes, but his earring was one thing that set him apart from others. From a young age he could not only hear someone whispering in the next room, he could also determine what they were whispering about. As he grew up he found that he could sit in a restaurant and hear almost every conversation.

Gray watched as Ahmed slipped the concierge a 100 Euro note and mention the "Nocturne en Noir: A Night of Elegance in Paris". A quick google search told Gray that the evening was described as: "Nocturne en Noir" is a night to remember, where Parisian elegance and allure blend harmoniously. As the event concludes, the guests depart, hearts full of cherished memories and new connections made under the sparkling Parisian sky, making it a night that will forever remain etched in their hearts.

It was only Tuesday and the event was on Friday, which gave Gray a chance to obtain an invitation. He went out into the cool Paris late afternoon sky and walked through Square Marigny, across The Avenue des Champs-Élysées past the statue of Charles DeGaulle to Fables for a bite to eat.

Following his late afternoon pastry and coffee Gray slipped back to the hotel just in time to see Ahmed and Fatima exit the elevator. It looked to Gray like they were dressed for the evening as they exited the lobby of the hotel. He took the stairs back to the top floor, a few minutes later he was standing in their apartment. He took note that the one piece of information intelligence had told him was correct, it was obvious that they were sharing one bed. He slipped on gloves and quickly searched until he found what he was looking for.

He pulled out his phone and took a picture of the front and back of the elegant handcrafted, black and gold invitations. The invitations are elegantly designed with intricate lace patterns, exuding a sense of mystery and allure. Each invitee is requested to dress in their finest black tie attire, adhering to the night's theme of timeless elegance.

Gray smirked as he looked through the drawers and found various sex toys. Everything from vibrators to strapons. There was even a Sybian hidden away in the closet. "So much for uptight religious rules," the smirk returned as he carefully exited the apartment, made his way back down the steps and out into the evening Parisian air.

He sent Underwood the pictures of the invitation before he called. It was just after lunch in DC. When Gray looked at his watch he realized he had been awake for 36 hours. He dialed, Underwood picked up on the first ring.

"Ghost, what am I looking at?" was the greeting.

TJ explained the invitations, why they were important, and that he needed either a forgery, or for the US Ambassador to France to cough up an invitation. Underwood promised to do one or the other and told his friend to get some sleep and to keep his head on a swivel. The strikes in France were scheduled to accelerate and get more confrontational in the coming days.

TJ headed up to the room, changed into running clothes and took off on a long run. Fiona and the others were not in the room, Gray assumed they were either reporting to their own embassies or out to dinner.

Gray took his long run, then lingered around the hotel entrance until 2300 hours when Fatima and Ahmed returned. Gray could see why Nazir and Ahmed had been attracted to the beautiful Persian woman. Her ice blue eyes shined like ice crystals behind her traditional niqab. Her colorful silken gown could not hide her elegant curves, no matter how hard they tried.

Finally, just after midnight TJ returned to the room to be met by a livid Camille. Her long stream of French curses picked up from where she left off when Gray left 9 hours ago.

"Where the fuck were you?" Camille demanded

Gray was in no mood, "Doing my fucking job, and if you or anyone in your agency would do theirs then you'd know damn well where I was every fucking minute."

The feisty French woman stepped up to the American. "We are a team and you will act accordingly. You are here at the invitation of my government. Pull a stunt like that again and I will have you deported."

TJ's voice dropped into his chest, that deep baritone that made legs tremble. Sometimes from lust, other times from intimidation, "I work alone, I have always worked alone. So here's my offer one time only. Stay the hell out of my way, or get run over - I truly do not care which you choose."

Camille did not back down. "While you are here, you will obey my directives."

Gray growled, "I am the one with a bounty on their head so in the politest most diplomatic way I can say it, 'Go fuck yourself.'"

Camille's dark eyes flashed with the same anger that Gray's pale blue eyes showed. This was a standoff that was going nowhere. Erik finally stepped in, "Let's all get some sleep. We will start again in the morning."

Camille slowly backed away from Gray as Erik took her arm, finally leading her to the door. Fiona smiled, "Take a shower and come to bed, you haven't slept in days."

Gray showered and came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Fiona was reading at the desk. "Go on, get some sleep." Her eyes dropped to the long bulge that the towel could barely contain.

TJ sighed, "I didn't know I was sharing quarters with someone, I didn't bring anything to sleep in. I'll grab a blanket and sleep on the couch."

Fiona shook her head, "No, you won't. Your long ass legs won't fit on the couch. Go to bed, Gray. You are no good to any of us when you are this exhausted."

Truthfully, TJ was too tired to argue. He walked into the bedroom, pulled down the sheets on one side of the bed, used some pillows to put a privacy barrier up and laid down.

An hour or so later Fiona crept into the bedroom, wearing nothing but a night shirt. Her heavy breasts bounced lightly as she tried to quietly slip into bed. Gray admired the 5'7" 130 pound 34D 24-34 spy.

Gray spoke quietly, "No need to be quiet on my account, I can't sleep anyway."

Fiona stopped and turned towards the long American laying naked under the sheets. She could have walked around the bed, she probably should have done something different than she did. Fiona pulled the sheet back, crawled into the bed right next to Gray and let her hand drift down his broad chest to his narrow waist and down even further.

"Damn, that thing is huge," she whispered as she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. Gray started to speak but Fiona took her other hand and pressed it to his lips. "No words," Fiona stroked Gray's cock for a bit, feeling it harden under her touch. After a few minutes she shimmied down his body, and laid between his long legs.

Fiona stroked it almost lovingly, bringing it to full erection. The bulbous head flared like a large mushroom and started moving toward a purple color as the blood of Gray's lust rushed into it.