She walked back to the head of the table and eased into her chair.
“Now, before we construct the final agreement to all sign, are there any issues we need to discuss before we move forward?”
The room remained silent for several seconds other than a few men restlessly shifting in their seats. Claude Bertrand, the director of the French banking system, finally spoke.
“I know this might sound ironic coming from a Frenchman, but I can’t help but notice the glaring absence of a delegate from the United States around this table. They have not been what I would consider cooperative under President Michaels, but they are still an economic power in the world today. What happens if they decide to downgrade the one-world currency?”
Petrov shrugged. “Why do we need the United States? They do far more importing than exporting. If they want the goods our countries produce, they will have to pay the market rates that we determine.”
Ville Löfström, a diminutive Finnish man, cleared his throat before responding.
“If I may,” he asked, nodding toward Petrov.
She gestured for him to continue.
“I find the exclusion of the United States from this one-world currency proposal somewhat problematic,” Löfström said. “They import a large number of electrical equipment we produce, not to mention some of our machinery as well. They are our third largest importer. If we lose them as a partner, it will make a significant dent in our economy. I am not sure we can afford to lose them without suffering needlessly.”
“This new arrangement will not prevent Finland from trading with the United States,” Petrov said. “Let me be very clear on that point.”
“But when the exchange of goods ceases to be economically feasible, we will in essence lose them,” Löfström said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose.
“In that case, it will be business as usual, Mr. Löfström,” Petrov said. “Every country knows that trading partners come and go. Perhaps this new currency will open new doors for Finland.”
“The Finnish people are a fickle lot. Signing on with this plan has the potential to cripple our exports. I am not so sure this is in our best interest.”
Petrov leaned back in her chair and folded her arms.
“And what about all your other trading partners?” she asked. “If you think this will make it more difficult with the United States, consider how much more difficult it will make trading with European countries. The ECB has already announced it will make this change, so the euro as we know it will cease to exist. Are you prepared to return to the markka if you fail to join?”
“I will not sign,” Löfström said. “Not today anyway. We still need to debate this in parliament.”
“That would be ill-advised,” Petrov said. “Besides, there is still time for the United States to join. They may not receive the prominent standing its leaders are accustomed to because of their refusal to become a charter member, but they are always welcome to unite with the rest of the world in this ground-breaking movement.”
Stephan Fischer, a member of the German contingent, raised his hand.
“Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?” Petrov asked.
He nodded. “I was wondering what the next steps are. Germany is anxious to move forward.”
“I would like to make a formal announcement tomorrow,” she said. “And I would like to have full participation from everyone represented here. It will be very important for the media to portray the one-world currency initiative as united on all fronts. Perhaps it will be enough to persuade our American friends to change their minds when they see what they will be missing.”
Löfström pushed back from the table. “In that case, I will not be able to stand with you tomorrow or sign any agreement.”
“We are not asking you to sign a legally enforceable contract, Mr. Löfström,” Petrov said. “We are simply asking that you sign a document stating the intention of Finland to join all the other signatory nations. But if you simply must dissent—”
“I must,” Löfström interrupted. “It would be unwise for me to do anything else.”
Petrov shrugged and continued with the meeting.
“It’s settled then,” she said. “I will have a document prepared for everyone to sign in the morning ahead of our announcement that we will make to the press. Meet me here tomorrow at nine and we will address the media at ten.”
The group of leaders stood up and exited the room, some more jovial than others. Amidst the low, dull murmur of conversations, Petrov listened for any open dissenters or grumbling. She was serious about her desire to present a united front—and nothing was going to stop that.
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING in the lobby of the UniCredit Tower, Petrov watched the signatories to the one-world currency initiative file in with somber faces. She never once considered postponing the announcement, even though she anticipated requests to do so. But no one complained.
“Can you believe what happened last night?” Claude Bertrand asked Petrov. “I mean, we were just sitting around the table with him yesterday.”
Petrov shook her head and looked down, not out of shame but out of duty. She needed Bertrand and anyone else watching her to believe she had nothing to do with the death of Ville Löfström.
“I have been to Milan many times,” she said, “and I have never feared for my life while walking the streets. To think that he was murdered for a couple hundred euros just goes to show how dangerous the world is becoming. It has never been more evident to me than it is now how important our work is. The inequality we face in wages will tear people apart if we do not take swift steps to correct this.”
Bertrand nodded. “Perhaps we should name the agreement after him.”
Petrov flashed a faint smile. “That is an excellent idea. The Löfström Agreement—it has a nice sound to it.”
“We are ready to begin,” said the media relations expert Petrov had hired for the event. “The press will wait until your opening statement and then they will begin to funnel questions through me. Understand?”
Petrov nodded. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
CHAPTER 12
Washington, D.C.
HAWK FELT UNEASY about leaving Blunt by himself in Scotland to recover, but he insisted it was best for the team. Blunt explained that he would be a liability since his skills weren’t what they used to be. While Hawk didn’t like the idea, he couldn’t argue with Blunt’s reasoning. From a strategic standpoint, leaving Blunt behind certainly made the most sense. Hawk finally agreed, but not without plenty of handwringing and suggested alternative ideas. In the end, Blunt’s stubbornness—and good sense—trumped Hawk’s desires to keep Blunt protected by the Firestorm team.
“I didn’t bring this team together to protect me,” Blunt said in his closing argument. “I brought it together to help protect the United States of America. And that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
Hawk and the rest of the team took Blunt’s jet back to Washington and went to work immediately on how they would shut down Michaels’ plan. Their first step was to meet with Vice President Young to discuss any new developments that occurred since Blunt’s shooting. The team arranged an unorthodox meeting in the men’s room with him, Hawk and Samuels during a fundraiser Young was hosting at a downtown hotel.
Hawk and Samuels hid in a janitor’s closet while two Secret Service agents cleared the room.
“Clear,” Hawk heard one of the agents shout.
Once the door slammed shut, Hawk heard the shuffle of feet. After a few seconds, he and Samuels stole across the room and waited for Young.
“I bet you didn’t expect to conduct meetings in the bathroom when you became vice president, did you?” Hawk said when Young walked in.
Young chuckled. “I can honestly say this is not something I ever thought would happen.” His face fell. “Unfortunately, it’s necessary given what Michaels is attempting to do to this country.”
“
We understand the consequences,” Hawk said. “Petrov has been relentless in her march toward pushing this currency idea beyond backroom conversations among political powerbrokers and into the public.”
Samuels kept an eye on the door in case the agents posted outside decided to come in and check on Young.
“Things have gotten worse in the past few days,” Young said. “Petrov made a big announcement in Milan earlier this week. She called it the Löfström Agreement.”
“The what?” Hawk asked.
“The Löfström Agreement, in honor of Ville Löfström, the Finnish delegate who lost his life in a senseless murder on the streets of Milan the night before the big announcement.”
“Senseless, my ass. He probably dissented openly.”
“That’s what I thought, though no one is talking,” Young said.
“And does that surprise you? Would you talk if you knew the lone objector was dead the next morning?”
Young shook his head. “Things are going to get worse if something isn’t done. Michaels’ about-face on this currency issue means that he’s angling for something with Petrov. She is either threatening him with something or making a grandiose promise of power.”
“Michaels is a fool if he believes anything she says. He’s going to be her puppet.”
“I agree, which is why you need to stop him.”
“We’re open to suggestions on how to do that,” Hawk said. “Just point us in the right direction.”
“Excellent,” Young said. “There’s someone you need to meet.”
* * *
SITTING OUT THE MEETING with the vice president rankled Alex at first, but she understood. Grabbing a few minutes alone with him was difficult enough in a public men’s restroom, but adding her to the mix would’ve made it next to impossible without increasing the likelihood of getting identified or even arrested. Instead, she told Hawk that she was going to do what she did best: dig around.
Holed up in an FBI safe house that was no longer active, Alex cleared off the dining room table and opened her laptop. She needed to focus and use her critical thinking skills to unearth what was going on with Michaels. If he was indeed making a power play, angling to assert his leadership as president into the currency issue, he wasn’t doing it via any traditional route. Everything Michaels was doing appeared to be akin to guerilla tactics where everything of importance was handled in the shadows.
“So if I wanted to control the Supreme Court justices, how would I start?” she said aloud. After about a minute, she let out an exasperated breath and resorted to tapping mindlessly on the keyboard.
Alex took a deep breath, regrouped, and realized she was asking herself the wrong questions. She would never be president, so she needed to think more like a detective instead.
“What would Michaels do to control the justices?” she asked aloud again, this time narrowing her focus. “He would do what he always does—intimidate, threaten, and lie . . . just like every other politician.”
What Alex needed was evidence linking them all together. She needed to show that Michaels was exerting undue influence on the justices. But how? If Michaels could keep his meetings secret, Alex assumed it’d be simple for him to avoid any kind of potential pitfalls with regards to this information going public.
Then Alex realized she was ignoring her best resource in a time that absolutely required assistance.
“Mallory Kauffman,” Alex said aloud.
She picked up her phone and dialed former CIA colleague, Mallory Kauffman, who’d recently joined the National Security Agency. In a text to Alex, Kauffman explained that she had finally seen the light as it pertained to their former supervisor and wasn’t going to stand for it another week. Once she contacted the NSA and inquired about any openings, she switched agencies with no resistance. Alex assumed it was because their former supervisor was eager to see both women leave.
If anyone could help Alex, Mallory Kauffman could.
“Long time, no see,” Kauffman said when she answered Alex’s call.
“Definitely longer than it should be—and technically, this is still just a phone call,” Alex said.
“Well, since you’re calling me at home, I’m assuming this is a work related request.”
“Of course.”
“If I can assist you, I’m going to require you to buy me at least two drinks when you get an opportunity.”
“If I survive, you’re on,” Alex said flatly.
“You’re not joking, are you?” Kauffman asked.
“I wish I was, but we’re in some deep trouble. To be honest, we’re all in deep trouble.”
“Do I really want to know what’s going on?”
“I’m sure you can figure it out after I make my request.”
“Lay it on me.”
Alex took a deep breath. “I need you to search the phone records of Supreme Court justices over the past week. Look for any numbers that seem out of the ordinary. Can you do that for me?”
“For you, anything. Now that everyone knows what kind of information we collect, I’m sure I’ll be getting more requests like this.”
Alex laughed. “I don’t want to be that kind of friend, the kind that only calls you when she needs something.”
“Better than never getting a call at all,” Kauffman quipped. “I’ll call you back after I’m done searching. It shouldn’t take too long.”
Five minutes later, Alex’s phone rang and “unknown number” appeared on her screen.
“Hello,” Alex said as she answered.
“I found something that might interest you,” Kauffman said.
“I was hoping you would.”
“Well, it certainly makes me a little bit nervous.”
“Yeah?”
“According to Camille Williams’ phone records, she received a call recently from someone at the Pentagon.”
“The Pentagon? Calling a Supreme Court justice?”
“Yeah. A guy by the name of Frank Stone. Ever heard of him?”
Alex nodded even though she knew Kauffman couldn’t see her.
“Stone is a close ally of President Michaels.”
“There’s your link then,” Kauffman said. “Good luck uncovering whatever it is. And the next time you’re free and we can meet up, you owe me two drinks.”
“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” Alex said. “I appreciate it.”
“Stay alive out there. And I mean that—I’d hate to have done all this work and not get my two drinks.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Alex said.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Alex hung up and contemplated the result of Kauffman’s search. It confirmed—at least in her mind—that Young was on the right track about the purpose of the meeting: Michaels was trying to influence the Supreme Court.
CHAPTER 13
Portree, Isle of Skye
Scotland
BLUNT STUDIED THE SECURITY MONITOR in his bedroom, unsure if he could trust his eyes. The man standing outside his home ringing the doorbell appeared to be longtime friend, General Van Fortner. But Fortner commanded Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti, thousands of miles away from Scotland. Past experience of counterintelligence tactics and the familiar face out of place were enough to make Blunt think twice about answering the door.
“General Fortner?” Blunt asked. “Is that you?”
“In the flesh,” Fortner responded, looking up at the camera and smiling.
Blunt was still unsure. “Who did we leave buck naked outside of Tangiers one night?”
“That little twerp Teddy Myers,” Fortner said, breaking into a chuckle. “The poor sot couldn’t keep his mouth shut and hurt your chances with that waitress broad.”
Blunt’s doubts were quieted with Fortner’s answer.
“I’ll come open the door in just a minute.”
Blunt opened the door slowly and motioned for Fortner to come in.
“There’s nobody out there,” Fortner said as he stepped inside
. “I wouldn’t have even considered venturing near this place if there was. I’d never put you at risk like that.”
Blunt broke into a smile and shook Fortner’s hand. After securing the door, Blunt gestured toward the living room.
“We can have a seat in here,” Blunt said. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I’m good,” Fortner said. “And I’ll keep this brief.”
The pair sat down across from one another, the smiles that were on their faces just moments ago had vanished.
“Were you just in the neighborhood and decided to pop in?” Blunt asked.
“I’m being transferred to Ansbach and thought I’d pay you a visit.”
“Ansbach? That sounds like a nice cushy gig.”
“I wish,” Fortner said. “It’s going to be nose to the grindstone Army counterintelligence. A sentence to a Siberian work camp might be more relaxing than what I’m in for.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Blunt said, shifting in his seat. “But I take it this is more than a social call to catch up on work.”
Fortner nodded. “Unfortunately, it is. There are some serious issues we need to contend with, all of which begin and end with Katarina Petrov. Seems she’s hell bent on taking over the world.”
“That’s nothing new,” Blunt said. “I suspected that when I first got mixed up with her and The Chamber. It was a damn fiasco.”
“Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I suspect that you don’t know about the latest bit of intel we picked up in the past few days.”
“Fill me in.”
“This one-world currency fiasco is a smoke screen to what’s truly happening behind closed doors,” Fortner said. “We’ve learned from several strategically placed assets in multiple foreign governments that Petrov is making a play to create a united government, banding countries together with common laws. The economy is just the beginning. Pretty soon, any nation that aligns with this ridiculous plan is going to be subject to a plethora of edicts without a legitimate way to appeal them. At least now, citizens can travel to centrally located sites to air their grievances. But that’s going to go away. She’s ginning up support for a judicial system that will trump anything we have in place today. It’s going to be a disaster.”
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