The Reluctant Assassin Box Set

by Lee Jackson

  “Don’t joke like that.”

  “It helps keep my sanity. I learned it from Horton.” Atcho hung up. He called the head of his technical division. “Put our best repair tech on the phone.” He fended off questions and the call went through. “Mac, this is Atcho. I need your help, but first I need to know, are there any spare NUKEXs lying around?”

  “No sir. We had to ship them all out. Real sudden. Something big is going down somewhere.”

  “You could be right.” Atcho grimaced. “Mac, I received one of those NUKEX prototypes when I was looking to buy the company. I opened up the unit a few minutes ago, and it’s hollow. Nothing’s in it. Is that casing the real thing or is it a mock-up?”

  “Let’s see. The first casings we sent as souvenirs to investors were real, but they were expensive. We had some mock-ups made out of aluminum.”

  “How would you know the difference?”

  “The real ones were fully functional except that they were missing the electronics. What I mean is, if you look at the three buttons on the outside—there should be a black one, a green one, and a red one. If you see them come through on the inside, you’ve got the real deal. The mock-ups were solid on the inside, and the buttons on the outside were static.”

  Atcho’s hands perspired. He picked up the prototype and examined its interior. “OK, the good news is that I have the real deal. Now, can I transfer the innards from a damaged unit to the prototype?”

  “What’s damaged?”

  Atcho did his best to describe the tangle of electronics inside the NUKEX. Mac took a deep breath, audible on the phone. “All right, sir,” he said, “we’ll give this a try, but here’s the thing. I’ll guide your through some workarounds, but when we’re done, you won’t be able to test the unit. If you could test it, you’d get a code in the window giving corrective action to make it functional. But with the workarounds, it’ll either work, or it won’t work. That’s the best we can do.”

  Atcho sat back and stared. From the other room, he heard Sofia moan again. “Let’s do it.”

  Atcho’s cell phone rang. He ignored it. Dusk settled in. He had a set of needle-nose pliers in one hand and a solder gun in the other. He peered through a magnifying glass at the insides of the NUKEX and touched a contact with the tip of the solder gun. He held it momentarily and backed off. “I think that’s got it,” he told Mac. “Anything else?”

  “No sir. We’re done. But keep in mind that the original prototype has been improved as a result of testing. I don’t know which one you have. One thing we did was make the part longer that focuses the heat. We did that to get closer to the trigger. We made the protective shield thicker too. If the unit you have works at all, it should do the trick, but I’d suggest you use a pair of thick work gloves. The heat will be intense.”

  “And we can’t test it.”

  “No sir, you can’t. You’ve got one shot, and then that’s all she wrote.”

  Klaus felt impatience rising. He had listened to nonstop news reports about the shooting, the victim, the downed cop and all the conjecture about who had done it and why. Obviously, key details had been left out, but he heard nothing to indicate that the authorities had a clue regarding his whereabouts. He was sure that at some point, they would begin to show his photo, but that’s easy enough to fix. When I leave here, I’ll look entirely different—and they’ll have bigger concerns.

  He tried calling Atcho again. Atcho answered on the third ring. “What are you doing?” Klaus blurted. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?”

  “What did you expect? I was in Berlin when you started this. I landed in New York three hours ago. I’m in Atlanta now. I should be there in five or six hours.”

  Klaus leaned back on his bed. “Did you straighten out your wife?”

  “I told her what you said. She knows she can’t leave.”

  “She’ll be dead if she does, along with a lot of other people.”

  “She knows that. I have to go.” Atcho hung up without waiting for a response. He went to check on Sofia. She was awake, but listless. He dared not touch her for fear of increasing the pain.

  A dull knock came from the back entrance. Atcho checked the surveillance monitor and saw Ivan standing outside with two men. He pushed a button to let them in. They all wore black, their faces covered with camouflage.

  “These two are combat medics,” Ivan said. “They still work EMS jobs. They know what to do.”

  The two men went immediately to Sofia’s side. One carried a folding stretcher. While one medic checked her pulse and eyes, the other prepared a syringe. “This is a local anesthetic,” he told an anxious Atcho. “It’ll ease her pain but won’t go into the rest of her system. It won’t hurt the baby.” He grinned. “You did a good job, Pops. Once we get her to the hospital, the doctors will take care of that leg, and she’ll recover quickly.”

  Atcho fought off overwhelming emotions. He thanked the medics and hurried to Ivan. “What route did you take coming in?”

  “We started three houses down and came in on the cliff side. It was rugged, but on the way in, we scouted a way that should be much easier for transporting Sofia out.” He gestured with his jaw toward the two medics. “They’re pros. They won’t be seen.”

  “Good,” Atcho replied. “Do they know not to come to the road in front of the house too soon? That route might be watched.”

  “They’ve got you covered, Atcho, and the ambulance is waiting.”

  Sofia called weakly from the lounge. He hurried to her. She was already on the stretcher. “Don’t let them take me,” she cried. “I need to be with you.”

  Atcho kissed her hand and held it to his chest. His eyes moistened as he spoke, and he bent to kiss her lips. Then he looked at the medics. “We’re ready.”

  He walked with them into darkness behind the house. As he watched Sofia disappear into the night, Ivan drew him aside. “We’ve got sixty men combing the cliffs below the two houses where we came in, and—”

  “Sixty men? Where did you get sixty men?”

  A large hand clamped his shoulder from behind. “He called me,” a voice said. Atcho looked into the darkness. He could not see the face, but he knew the voice. “Rafael? How, who, what are you doing here?”

  Rafael was one of Atcho’s oldest friends. The two had fought side-by-side at the Bay of Pigs in Cuba. They had worked several covert operations jointly since then. “Let’s go inside where we can talk,” he said.

  In the safe-room, Atcho greeted Rafael again with a bear hug. He was a tall blond man with an almost perpetual grin and an irascible sense of humor. “Ivan called me,” Rafael said. “He told me he couldn’t work this by himself.” He grinned broadly and clapped a friendly arm around Ivan’s shoulder. “Which isn’t surprising.” He faced Atcho. “I’m a little insulted you didn’t call me yourself.”

  “You live in Florida.”

  “I know, and only for that reason, I’ll let it pass.”

  “Are these our regulars?” Atcho asked.

  “Of course, our men from Brigade 2506, veterans of the Bay of Pigs.”

  “Rafael is read in,” Ivan interrupted. “We’ve got thirty men on our left flank and another thirty on our right. All are equipped with night-vision goggles. They’re combing the ground and working their way toward us.”

  “Do they know not to touch the suitcase if they find it?”

  “They do. They’re equipped with radios on frequencies that will be allowed through the jammers, and they’ll call in the location when they find anything. Then you’ll go do your thing.”

  Atcho shook his head in disbelief. He cast a glance at Rafael. “Sixty men. How did they all get here?”

  “Some live here. Some flew their own planes and picked up buddies along the way. Others drove hard. Not all are with Brigade 2506, but they’re all veterans. They know what they’re doing, and they were eager to help the famous Atcho.”

  “I’m not famous,” Atcho muttered, “and don’t want to be.”
Otherwise he was speechless. They walked back outside.

  Rafael nudged him. “Shhh. Hear that?”

  Atcho listened to silence. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s the point. You won’t see much either, but they’re out there, on the job.”

  Atcho turned to Ivan, concern in his voice. “Do they know the risk?”

  “They do.”

  43

  Klaus watched the news reports for the umpteenth time. He paced impatiently. I gave Atcho too much time.

  Then a news reporter he had not seen before flashed onto the screen. “This is breaking news. Residents in the vicinity of Mt. Bonnell north of Austin are calling into police with reports of strange goings-on there and in the surrounding neighborhoods. Military vehicles from Camp Mabry have moved into various positions, and prowlers are reported moving about below the houses along the cliffs. The police have not acknowledged the calls. At the station, we know about them from concerned residents calling us after having no police response. As for the military vehicles, I’ve seen them. They are there, but the Army National Guard refuses to comment.”

  Burly saw the same news report. He whirled to the FBI chief. “Send the order! Jam all radio stations within five miles of those homes on Mt. Bonnell and cut the cell phone towers. Give me five minutes to call Atcho, then do it.”

  He hurried to make the call. “Camp Mabry’s trucks and the movement of your guys on the cliffs were just reported on the news,” he said. “That word will spread like wildfire. Klaus will hear it soon. We’ve ordered the cell towers to be shut down around Mt. Bonnell and the radio signals to be jammed.”

  “Will I be able to talk to you?”

  “Ivan has a radio for you that will be allowed through the jamming. Just so you know,” Burly added, “chatter on the bad guy net is screaming. They’re expecting something big—tonight.”

  Klaus flipped through the stations furiously. He saw no similar reports, so he switched back to the first channel. A news anchor appeared on the screen. “We apologize to our viewers,” the young lady said, “we’ve lost contact with our journalist in the field. He was in the Mt. Bonnell area.” She pressed a finger against the tiny earphone, listening. “This just in. A large area around Mt. Bonnell seems to have had a communications outage. We hear from people calling on their landlines that their cell phones are dead, and they get no radio signals. Local authorities offered no information or comment. As we understand, cell towers are out, and radio broadcasts are not being received. We’ll stay on the story and keep you informed.”

  Klaus flipped through the channels again. Bits and pieces of detail taken from other reports confirmed the story. Other news stations sent reporters speeding to the locale.

  Klaus paced to the window and looked out, thinking. Then he opened a drawer on his bed stand revealing a small remote-control device. He picked it up and stared at it. He had not anticipated being this close to ground-zero when he detonated.

  I’ll have to retrieve the bomb. Angrily, he tossed the remote onto the bed. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his phone and dialed Atcho’s cell number. Putting it to his ear, he listened. No sound. He held it in front of his face and watched a digital progress indicator go around and around as the call was attempted but not completed. Realization dawned. Atcho is here, in Austin, in his house.

  He threw on his jacket, picked up the cell phone and remote, and stormed out the door. Twenty minutes later, he drove off the Camp Mabry exit from Route 1, MOPAC; he drove past its entrance, and wound his way through the adjacent neighborhoods. On the way in, he saw Army communications vehicles. Four police cars with pulsating blue and red strobe lights surrounded each one. Jammers.

  Klaus pulled his car next to one of the police cars. “What’s going on?”

  “We don’t know for sure. There’s been some kind of radio and cell phone disruption. The Army is trying to sort it out, if that makes any sense.”

  “Can I go on through? I live up the street.”

  “Show me your driver’s license.”

  Klaus thanked Allah that his Berlin hawaladar, Kadir, had been thorough. He pulled a Texas driver’s license from his wallet and handed it to the cop.

  “You got anything else showing that’s your address?”

  Klaus pretended to think. “I have an electric bill in my glove compartment. Will that work?”

  “Let me see it.”

  Moments later, the cop handed back the documents and waved Klaus through. He drove to Mt. Bonnell Drive and took a right turn into a parking spot he had found while scouting the area, hidden behind thick brush near the cliff’s edge.

  He emerged into darkness and listened. Aside from crickets he heard only the movement of air. He stepped onto the road. Far off to his right, he saw another Army truck surrounded by police security. Another vehicle sat close by. It looked like an ambulance.

  He put on his night-vision goggles and started down a path on the river side of the road. After a few yards, he stopped to listen. He heard no sound. Not even crickets, and that bothered him. He was about to start off again when he heard footsteps crunching softly on the narrow dusty trail. He ducked off the path and slid down, prone in the dark. Through his night-goggles, he saw the path clearly in eerie yellowish-green light reflecting from shapes.

  The footsteps came closer. A man passed by, obviously weighted down. Another passed, also appearing to carry something heavy. He heard someone moan, a female voice. He raised up for a better view as the two men continued up the path. Between them, they carried a stretcher. Sofia! I must have hit her with a bullet from the river.

  Acting on furious impulse, he stood and stepped into the path behind the group. He pulled his pistol from his belt and raised it, aiming at the trailing medic. Then he squeezed the trigger. For an excruciating few seconds, he held his sites squarely on the closest man’s back. Then, his mind overcame his emotion. If I shoot, the sound will alert everyone. I’ll never get close to Atcho, or the bomb.

  He relaxed his finger and started back down the path. As he went, he became aware of other men up and down the slope from him, proceeding in the same direction. They wore dark clothing and night-goggles, and they moved slowly, checking under crevices and bushes. They’re looking for the bomb.

  He moved with them at a slightly faster pace, counting on the notion that anyone seeing him could not tell him from any of the other men. They would not expect him to be among them.

  Tom, the leader of Team One, stood uphill from his men at a vantage where he could observe each one of them. Further downhill, he observed another team leader also keeping account of his men as they inched along the steep slope.

  As he watched, a new figure appeared in his night-sights. The man crouched, looking downhill to his front. He remained motionless a few minutes and then stood. In his hand, he carried a pistol.

  Tom waited until the man was well away from him, but still in sight. Then he pressed his handset and spoke in a low voice. “We have movement that’s not ours. An unknown person came from our rear. He has a gun in his hand. He’s moving through our sector faster than we are. I have him in sight.”

  “Copy,” Rafael replied. “Is there another team in front of yours?”

  “Negative. We’re on the left flank, closing into the area below the target house.”

  “Roger. I’ll advise the other teams. Keep him in sight, even if it means leaving your team behind. Tell your men to keep doing what they’re doing. Report if he appears to have reached an objective.”

  Rafael relayed the report to Atcho and Ivan. “He’s on one of the high trails crossing below your house.”

  “Is it Klaus?” Ivan asked.

  “Don’t know. We don’t have a means of recognizing him in the dark, but none of our guys are carrying pistols in their hands. This man has his gun out, and he’s moving faster than the team is. Sounds like he knows his objective.”

  “Let’s go outside,” Atcho cut in. “Maybe we can grab him bef
ore he sees us.”

  “We’ll corral from below,” Rafael said. He spoke low into his mouthpiece. “All Teams. Be advised, we have a moving subject. Cease the search. Concentrate on the subject. Teams Five and Six on lower sections. Increase pace. Keep spacing between individuals, but head toward center. Teams Three and Four in mid-sections, maintain contact on your left and right. Teams One and Two, maintain contact with your adjacent team. We’re forming a semicircle with the house at the center. We’ll slowly contract our perimeter on the house. The subject is detached, away from any team. He’s moving alone to the center of the search area. Understood?”

  He received quiet confirmations. “Team One, do you still have him in sight?”

  “Affirmative. He’s on the edge of the property now, about twenty-five yards down on your right. He’s stopped, looking around.”

  “Roger. Don’t get too close. We want him to lead us straight to the suitcase.”

  “Wilco. Out.”

  Klaus’ instincts told him that he might have walked into a trap. His progress had been slowed by rough rocks and brush. From his current position, he saw water glimmering a hundred meters below. Standing very still, he heard scrapes in the rocks and rustling bushes that could not be explained by movement of wild animals or wind. He perceived that many men were spread below him, at least to his rear.

  He looked downhill to his front and caught sight of an arm and then a leg moving toward him many meters below. At the same time, he heard bushes rustling above him, also to his front. A clear picture formed in his mind. They’re coming into the center from both directions.

  He turned all the way around, trying to pierce beyond the limits of his goggles. The ghostly shapes that appeared were difficult to make out, and the noise of his movement masked any other sounds. Better hurry.