Behind Enemy Lines

by R. J. Patterson

  “That should be the least of Gaither’s concerns right now,” Shields said.

  “I’ll keep trying with Besserman. And good luck with your operative.”

  Shields hung up and glanced back at the screen where the Secret Service agent had been holding Black. Her mouth fell agape.

  The hallway was empty.

  She clicked furiously through all the cameras, searching for Black to learn where he was or where he had been taken.

  But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Shields took a deep breath and then tried to raise him on the coms. “I’ve lost visual with you, Black,” she said in a hushed tone. “But I need to know you can hear me. Just say something to let me know you’re okay and maybe a clue as to where you are.”

  She waited and waited. He didn’t reply.

  CHAPTER 35

  BLACK PUT HIS HEAD DOWN and removed the ear piece in an effort to make sure if Shields said anything, it wouldn’t further complicate the situation. With no voices in his head, he pondered a path out of his current situation. Every second that passed meant the president was that much closer to being murdered in the most public of ways. And Black couldn’t stand to sit around any longer and wait for another Secret Service agent to explain the situation to. There wasn’t any guarantee that he would listen either.

  Black looked up at the man. “Listen here, Agent—”

  “Edgerton.”

  “Agent Edgerton, I know you think you’re doing some great service for your country, but the reality is that you are going to be the reason the president ends up dead if you don’t let me go.”

  “This is rich coming from a trained assassin who’s running around taking out high-ranking politicians.”

  Black shook his head slowly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I would never do anything to compromise this country’s security.”

  “What do you think attempted murder on a sitting senator qualifies as? Keeping our country safe?”

  “Keep talking,” Black said. “You’re only showing your ignorance. And by the time one of your superiors decides to come up here, the president will be dead.”

  The agent set his jaw. “Did you plant a bomb here?”

  “You’re really not listening to me, are you?” Black said. “There’s an active threat in the building—and it’s not me.”

  “Oh, I hear you, but I don’t believe you.”

  “Then your principled stand here will betray your oath to protect the Commander in Chief.”

  The agent huffed a laugh through his nose. “Just for fun, let’s say I let you go. What would do? Run on stage with President Michaels while he and Petrenko are draping a sash over Anna Tara.”

  “If that’s what it takes, yes. I don’t know if you’re being this obtuse on purpose, but you’re going to regret all this mockery if you don’t let me go do what I came here to do.”

  “You can stop talking now because I’m not buying what you’re selling.”

  Black put his head down and contemplated his next decision. He needed to move quick before more of the agent’s colleagues joined him.

  “Look, I’ll make a deal with you. You let me go, and I won’t hurt you.”

  The man chuckled and shook his head. “The report on you said you were arrogant. It wasn’t a joke.”

  “And if you don’t want to be the punchline, just release me and I’ll forget the whole thing ever happened.”

  “I think you’ve forgotten who’s holding the gun.”

  Black didn’t look up at the man, who was just out of arm’s length. Instead, Black sprang into action from the most unassuming position, catching the agent off guard.

  Black thrust his leg out, connecting with the man’s knee cap as he crumpled to the floor in pain. He tried to maintain his grip on his weapon but couldn’t due to the pain in his leg. Black kicked it aside. When the agent attempted to activate his coms and notify his fellow Secret Service members that he was under attack, Black stomped on his hand and then ripped out the coms cord and tossed it away.

  The agent scratched and clawed at the floor, trying to drag his lame body toward the weapon. Black slid the gun aside with his foot before straddling the man from behind and putting him in a sleeper hold. After a brief struggle, he fell limp.

  Black dragged the man into the closet and took off his jacket and pants. They weren’t a perfect fit, but it was close enough. The agent’s gun, however, fit perfectly in the palm of Black’s hand.

  While the weapon was a much-needed accessory, Black was most interested if he could pass for being a member of the Secret Service without getting called out. He slipped in the man’s coms and listened for any chatter. For the moment, everything was silent.

  Black then re-inserted his other ear piece so he could talk with Shields.

  “Shields, are you there? Do you copy?” he asked as he hustled toward a back stairwell that led to the catwalk.

  After a brief pause, her voice came through loud and clear. “I’m here,” she said. “What happened to you? I was watching you one minute, and the next you were gone.”

  “I had to subdue my new Secret Service friend and secure him. Once I did that, I swapped clothes with him, and I’m now heading to the catwalk to see if I can get a better view of what’s happening.”

  “Ah, there you are,” she said. “I’m looking at you now on the security cameras and it doesn’t appear that anyone is heading toward your position—or where you were apprehended.”

  “Finally, some good news.”

  “Now there are a couple of things I need to tell you,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “We don’t think Michaels is the target any more.”

  “What do you mean Michaels isn’t the target?” Black asked, his mouth falling agape. “Who else could they be after?”

  “Our friend over at the NSA found another name in that message—Vasyl Petrenko.”

  “The Ukranian president?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Black’s eyes widened as he stopped. “He’s going to be on stage with Michaels. The Secret Service agent mentioned something about Michaels and Petrenko being up there together when Anna Tara receives her award.”

  “Talk about a prime opportunity,” Shields said. “One of the biggest stars in Hollywood standing next to the president when they try to assassinate Petrenko.”

  “So, do you still have eyes on the guy I was trying to tell you about before the meathead detained me?”

  “That’s the bad news. He got up and moved. And I can’t find him anywhere.”

  “I’ll see if I can get a bead on him from up here.”

  Black entered the catwalk encircling the auditorium high overhead. He peered into the sea of people below.

  “I ran facial recognition on the guy you thought you recognized,” Shields said. “His name is Yuri Smolov, and he’s an operative with SVR, the Russian’s foreign intelligence agency.”

  “He’s the guy who tried to kill me at Union Station that day,” Black said.

  “That confirms that Gaither wasn’t just ferrying around young girls in a human trafficking ring. He was bringing spies into the country.”

  “I wonder if Col. Roman knew anything about that.”

  “Hard to say at this point, but the picture is starting to become clearer and clearer as we dive deeper and deeper into this dark and twisted plot to kill . . . someone.”

  Black scanned the crowd below, focusing his search for a man in a navy blazer and a white shirt with a red tie. It didn’t take long for Black to zero in on his suspect.

  “Got him,” Black said. “He’s just to the right of the stage on the first row. It’s easy access to the front.”

  “He’s also got something in his pocket that he keeps fidgeting with,” Shields said.

  “Probably his gun. Keep an eye on him while I hustle downstairs. If he so much as sneezes, let me know immediately.”

  “What are you thinking?”
r />   Black explained his plan briefly before he took off running.

  “You better hurry,” Shields said. “Anna Tara is about to step onto stage to accept her award. There’s one more tribute before she does.”

  “I’ll be there in time,” he said. “You be ready when I give you the word.”

  CHAPTER 36

  TATIANA SWALLOWED HARD as she pranced out onto the stage in formation with the rest of the dancers. Once she was in position, the music struck up and she twirled around, gracefully leaping and spinning with the dance troop. While the crowd wasn’t there to see her play soccer, the high she got from performing as a dancer was just the same. She had always loved to dance yet found the discipline required to reach the pinnacle of the performance world far more strenuous than she wanted. At least as an athlete, the precision was as important while the taskmasters far less grueling.

  The general was a collection of both the best and the worst. He had been encouraging when she was struggling, demanding when she wasn’t. However, he held a high standard for everyone. And there was little room for errors. One mistake and he would send you to bed without any supper or take away your free time on Sunday afternoons. And while Tatiana wished for another life, she had grown to accept it—and at a much faster rate than her fellow recruits. It’s why she was here, in this moment, on this stage.

  As the movement slowed, Tatiana froze in position and scanned the eyes of the audience below. She wanted to see if her performance was delighting the crowd or simply passing the time until the real star graced the building with her presence. Despite her desire to assess the success of the dance based off the reaction from everyone in attendance, she couldn’t see much past the fifth row. The faces of any people beyond that were difficult to see due to the bright lights beaming down across the stage.

  Wearing a wide smile on her face, she scanned the gala attendees who were visible. They looked on in wide-eyed wonder as Valerie Gordon flew across the stage in the solo portion of the dance. Valerie was the star of the show, a “generational talent” Tatiana had heard one instructor call the dancer. And all eyes were glued to her as she seemed to float across the room with minimal effort. All eyes except for a pair belonging to one man on the front row. He wasn’t watching Valerie; he was watching Tatiana.

  Tatiana forced the wide smile across her face even as she found herself with shortness of breath.

  What is Papa doing here? How did he know I would be here?

  Her father looked at her and shook his head subtly.

  Is he trying to tell me something? No? What’s no?

  For a fleeting moment, she considered the possibilities. How would he even know what she was doing here or what she was about to do?

  Just over two years had passed since she last saw her father, since she last heard him answer the phone and then remain silent, unwilling to utter any response. But there he was, staring at her with the same type of intensity a surgeon does as he cuts out a brain tumor. The look he gave her wasn’t warm or endearing. It was businesslike, and he clearly didn’t want her doing what she was about to do.

  He should’ve said something then. It’s too late now. I’m going to do this for my country and to make the general proud.

  As Valerie’s solo concluded and she returned to formation with the rest of the dancers, Tatiana began twirling in synch with everyone else. They criss-crossed in the center of the stage, leaping between one another in a choreographed segment where the ballerinas appeared endlessly. Rotating around and around, the girls created a beautiful scene with their symmetry.

  Tatiana had to make herself smile for most of the event, but not this time. Her grin was genuine, her pride swelling as she was just seconds away from completing her mission and getting to go home for good. The general had told her that someone would be there to pick her up and whisk her away once she completed her task. Perhaps it was her father. But she wasn’t going to worry about that just yet. There was still work to be done, a president to kill.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Anna Tara descending the steps, flanked by President Michaels and Vasyl Petrenko, President of Ukraine.

  Perfect.

  She made one last pass across the floor before turning near the corner and dancing straight toward Petrenko. The music faded away, and the crowd erupted in applause. Even Tatiana’s father clapped. With his jaw set, he glared at her and subtly shook his head again. That wasn’t the first time she’d seen that look from him, but it had been a long time. And she wasn’t about to abandon everything she’d been training for over the past two years just because her father shook his head.

  No, I’m going to make him proud.

  Tatiana turned her back on the audience for the final time as she followed her fellow dancers in the exit pattern off the stage. Her target stood at the edge of her prescribed route, an arm’s length distance away, close enough for her to strike in a manner so elegant people likely wouldn’t realize what was happening.

  As she moved within five meters of the trio of celebrities about to stride onto the stage, Tatiana released the knife, allowing it to fall right into her hand. She’d practiced the skilled move thousands of times before, and it all paid off as she prepared to drive the tip of the blade into Petrenko’s neck.

  Three, two, one . . .

  The entire auditorium went dark and Tatiana stumbled around, unsure where exactly her target had gone.

  CHAPTER 37

  BLACK STOOD AT THE EDGE of the stage and watched Yuri Smolov closely as a ballet troop danced to the audience’s delight. At different moments during the performance, he appeared to be communicating with someone through subtle movements. And Black wasn’t about to let the Russian operative finish his assignment.

  “Do it now,” Black said.

  The entire auditorium fell dark on his command.

  “You’ve got fifteen seconds before the generators bring the house lights back,” Shields said.

  Black climbed onto the stage and raced toward the position he’d last seen President Michaels and Petrenko standing near Anna Tara. He jerked the two men’s arms, pulling them toward the secret exit. As they all stumbled forward in the dark, Black led them to a stairwell and dragged them down two flights before arriving in a stark concrete room. He shoved them against the far wall just as the lights turned back on.

  “Titus Black,” Michaels said as he glared at his abductor. “I should’ve known.”

  “You should’ve known what, sir?” Black asked. “That I was going to save you from an assassination attempt.”

  “There are other people who are paid to protect me,” Michaels said as he sneered at Black.

  “And they wouldn’t listen to me when I warned them that your life and the life of President Petrenko were in danger.”

  “In danger from who?” Michaels asked.

  “The Russians.”

  “You mean to tell me that the Russians want to kill me and start another world war?”

  Black shook his head. “They wanted to kill Petrenko, but if you were collateral damage, so be it.”

  “How dare you embarrass me like that,” Petrenko said. “I get intelligence briefings every day, and there were never any threats mentioned like that.”

  “I apologize, Mr. President,” Black said as he locked eyes with Petrenko. “Right now, the Russian army is gathering along the border, some fifty miles north of Kharkiv. As soon as you were killed, the plan was undoubtedly to invade during the chaos. But I just ruined their plans.”

  “This is absurd,” Michaels said. “You’re just botching another assignment again, aren’t you?”

  “Unless you consider botching a synonym for saving lives, then yes,” Black said. “Otherwise, you’re so wrong in your assessment of the situation that I can’t even begin to address the number of issues with your statement.”

  “My son is dead because of you and—”

  “Mr. President, that was a long time ago, and you don’t know the whole story.”
/>   “I don’t have to,” Michaels said with a snarl. “You disregarded orders, and my son’s entire life was gone in an instant. Had you followed protocol and listened to your superiors . . .”

  “Probably many more people would be dead,” Black said. “I’m truly sorry about what happened with your son, but that wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t the one who killed him.”

  Michaels glared at Black. “But he’d still be alive if you hadn’t tried to intervene.”

  “I do have a few regrets in my life, Mr. President, but that’s not one of them. I’m certain that more innocent lives would’ve been lost that day had I not done what I did. And while I’m sorry it was your son who paid the ultimate price, I was left with no choice. Your private grief versus the public grief of thousands? What would you do?”

  Michaels screamed as he sprinted toward Black, who slid to the side and avoided a direct blow. The president glanced off Black and crumpled to the ground. A few seconds later, Michaels broke into tears, sobbing as he remained lying down.

  Petrenko looked at the two men and hesitated, unsure of what to do.

  Black nodded toward Michaels, giving the Ukranian permission to kneel next to his U.S. counterpart.

  Meanwhile, footfalls on the steps outside arrested Black’s attention. He raced to the door and spun around to face the two leaders he’d swept off the Kennedy Center stage.

  “Whatever you do, don’t leave this room until you hear from me,” Black said. “I don’t know how safe it is out there, but I do know that in the audience tonight there was at least one Russian—and I can promise you that he wasn’t here to watch the ballet.”

  Michaels rolled over and sat up. He was still seething, wincing in pain as he moved.

  “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” he asked.

  Black shook his head. “Not if I can help it. Now stay put if you want to stay alive.”

  Hustling into the hallway, Black checked several nearby doors and found one that was unlocked. He opened it and crept into what was a large storage room. While the room was barely lit by the ambient light outside, he estimated it to stretch at least fifty meters deep and around thirty meters wide. A shelving system packed with props was arranged neatly for as far as he could see. Backdrops and scene scrims crowded against all four walls.