Game of Shadows

by R. J. Patterson

  What bugged Black the most was trying to figure out where Antoine got the device in the first place. Before he boarded the plane for the U.S., Antoine was thoroughly searched. Then Black was struck by his former captive’s deft move.

  Diabetes? What a farce—and a genius move, too.

  Antoine had preyed on Black’s good will and taken advantage of it. Unable to actually test to see if Antoine had diabetes, the fainting spells and relentless beeping from the supposed blood sugar monitor attached around Antoine’s belt provided some measure of necessity. Black never once considered that Antoine could be pretending to have his blood sugar level plummet, coinciding with a slump to the ground. But when Black thought about the situation, he concluded the move was a stroke of genius, almost making him mad that he hadn’t thought of a scenario like that first.

  Black prided himself on being intuitive to the potential problems swirling around him, especially those related to a captive. But Antoine had managed to pull off the modern-day equivalent of the Trojan Horse. Banned from entering the country, not only had Antoine gained access, he did so all while carting in a device that could render hundreds of people immobile at once. If Antoine wanted to wreak havoc, all he had to do was take his device somewhere with lots of people in a fast-moving situation—Times Square, an airport, a city bus, a subway—and knock them out. And while Black wouldn’t put it past Antoine, the evidence seemed to point toward him utilizing it to primarily go after Blunt. Despite the ensuing shootout in the Capitol Building, no one was physically harmed. Stealing an officer’s gun and firing it were the two most likely offenses that Antoine committed, nothing that would make him a monster in the eyes of the law. When it came to how society would perceive Antoine’s actions versus the allegations hurled at Blunt, the former would manage sympathy while the latter would have the book thrown at him.

  Black wasn’t going to let that happen. He’d already made the mistake of capturing Antoine and bringing him into the country. But Black needed to atone for such an egregious error. He owed it to Blunt and every other American. A madman like Antoine simply couldn’t be allowed to roam free, especially while handling a device that could be used to manipulate hundreds of people and potentially cause them harm.

  Black asked Shields what she’d found.

  “I’ve got a big fat nothing burger,” she said, “with a side of discouragement and despondency.”

  “How did he vanish like that?” Black asked.

  “Maybe his machine can make him invisible too. There’s some technology the military uses now that’s very close to making you disappear in plain sight.”

  “Do you have access to all the CCTV footage in the area?”

  “I’m reviewing it as we speak, but I haven’t seen anything that looks like him.”

  Black looked skyward and drew in a deep breath before exhaling. “Maybe he switched outfits or something. I don’t know. Just go over it as closely as you can.”

  “Why don’t you get the FBI involved? The more the merrier in a case like this. Plus, the bureau has access to tools that I can’t get here.”

  “If we drag them into it, Antoine is just going to get a bigger audience and more name recognition. We need to take care of this ourselves.”

  “Have you spoken with Blunt about this yet?”

  Black paced around the steps. “He wasn’t coherent when I left the room where the hearing was being held. We can talk with him later. Right now, we need to focus our efforts on finding that punk and seeing what we can do about capturing him again.”

  “I know you’re diligently searching for Antoine and want to know his whereabouts, but I have a very serious question that needs to be answered: How come his device had no effect on you?”

  “I guess we need to know the origin of its power. In other words, how can that machine make so many people collapse?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” she said. “And I have a theory.”

  “Don’t hold out on me.”

  “I read about how ultrasonic warfare is the wave of the future. And everyone within earshot would be subjected to bursts of waves that render them unconscious for a short period of time. Some countries are already using this, though the results have been mixed and testing limited.”

  “That doesn’t explain why I wouldn’t have collapsed like everyone else.”

  “In a way, it does,” she said. “How are we communicating right now?”

  Black gasped as he realized Shields’s discovery. “The coms.”

  “Exactly. You had something in your ears, which would make it difficult for the waves to penetrate your ear canal.”

  “So, I guess you’re saying don’t ever take these things out of my ear?”

  She laughed. “Not if you intend to encounter Antoine again.”

  “I’d love to encounter him right now. But that’s the real problem, isn’t it?”

  Shields sighed. “I’m still not seeing anything remotely resembling him on all the footage I’m scanning.”

  “Well, don’t worry about that,” Black said. “I think I know how we can get Antoine to come to us.”

  “And how do you intend to do that?”

  “We’re going to tempt him with the thing he wants the most.”

  “Blunt?”

  “Exactly,” Black said. “We’re going to use Blunt as bait.”

  CHAPTER 30

  WITH ANTOINE IN THE WIND, Black headed to Firestorm headquarters to regroup with Shields and Blunt. During the drive to the office, Black couldn’t shake the idea that Blunt was involved in something he shouldn’t have been. Blue Moon Rising LLC appeared to have power players and major capital, two elements that set off alarms. If Firestorm had been authorized to eliminate global threats, was it possible Blunt was also helping eliminate political enemies through other means? That was a question Black wanted answered. He had grown fond of Blunt and his no-nonsense approach to dealing with enemies of the U.S. government, both abroad and within the country’s borders. But Black didn’t want to work for anyone who considered themselves immune from the nation’s laws.

  When Black entered through the conference room door, Blunt and Shields were already seated at the table. She was drinking a cup of coffee, while Blunt was working over an unlit cigar.

  “Just another day at the office for you two, I see,” Black said as he took a seat next to Shields.

  Blunt sighed and shook his head. “What happened this morning, I’ve never seen anything like it. Christina has been filling me in on her theory about the technology Antoine used to knock out an entire room. It’s truly frightening.”

  “Who has that kind of technology?” Black asked. “Has our military been developing something like that?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was, but Antoine didn’t steal this from us—at least, not the technology itself,” Blunt said.

  “No,” Shields said, “he stole one of the world’s foremost experts on ultrasonic warfare, Dr. Aaron Matthews.”

  “That makes sense,” Black said. “At least that solves the mystery about whether or not Antoine had him.”

  Blunt inspected his cigar before cramming it back into his mouth. “But it gets us no closer to finding Dr. Matthews. We need him back on our side so this kind of technology doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

  “News about this is already spreading like wildfire,” Shields said. “It’s all over the internet already. I dove into the dark web to see if there was any chatter about it there, and there’s already an auction set up to purchase that new technology, set to close in two days. The winning bid so far is already well over ten million dollars.”

  “With that said, we need to figure out a plan to stop him,” Blunt said.

  Black held up his index finger. “Before we do that, there’s something else I need to discuss—we need to discuss—with you.”

  Blunt scowled. “It can’t wait? Apprehending Antoine is top priority.”

  “Before we proceed, I nee
d a few answers,” Black said.

  “Answers to what?”

  “Questions I have about Blue Moon Rising,” Black said.

  Blunt leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why are you running a company that gives money to known arms dealers like Orlovsky?” Black asked.

  “I can’t really talk about what Blue Moon Rising does. All I can say is that sometimes in our line of work, you do things that look suspicious to others but is actually part of a long game. For example, you have met with terrorists in the past, posing as someone else. However, if someone came along and took a picture of you while you were meeting with this terrorist and began to circulate it, some people might get the wrong idea about whose side you’re on. Maybe you buy a new house right after this and almost immediately a narrative emerges that you’re bought and paid for by a bunch of enemies of the state.”

  “I get that,” Black said. “But there’s a big difference between being photographed with someone and actually exchanging hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars. Even you must be able to understand that.”

  “Draw whatever conclusions you like, but you’ve known me long enough to know what I’m about. Do I seem like the kind of man who would be fighting terrorists with one hand and then funding them with the other?”

  Black shook his head and shifted in his seat. “I never would’ve considered it before, but Antoine said—”

  “Antoine was paid for his work,” Blunt said. “And just like every other operative I’ve brought on, he engaged with me through a trial period. But he was a bit off, too vigilante and money hungry for my tastes. I prefer my agents to be focused on their assignments, not on counting their dollars. And so at the end of the trial period, I told him I didn’t have any more new contracts for him, and if I did, I’d give him a call. Since then, I haven’t had any use for his services. So, take everything—and I mean everything—he says with a grain of salt. If he can’t have things his way, he’s going to raze you as he leaves. He’s the kind of guy who would take his ball and go home when he was a kid if he didn’t like something. Apparently, he didn’t like getting left out of Firestorm.”

  “Does he know about Firestorm?” Shields asked.

  Blunt continued chewing on his cigar. “Not by name. He just learned that I ran an under-the-radar agency outside of the normal control channels. I only spoke with him in person once. And there’s a firm understanding that if he were to ever divulge this information publicly that there would be grave consequences for his actions.”

  “Apparently he doesn’t care about that anymore,” Black said.

  “Which is exactly why we need to capture him and eliminate him before he does irreparable damage to the intelligence community,” Blunt said. “Based on how things fell into place over the past few days, I can’t help but feel like Antoine has been orchestrating this entire moment.”

  “Even the capture in Merano?” Shields asked.

  “Especially that one,” Blunt said. “I know he’s been trying to get at me for a while and didn’t have a way of getting into the country. So, when I turned down his offer to meet with him in person after the incident in Russia, I’d be willing to bet the farm that Merano wasn’t an accidental capture but an intentional set up.”

  “How could I have missed this?” Black asked.

  “It wasn’t just you,” Blunt said. “It was all of us. To go to such lengths to get captured and dragged across an ocean where there was little chance to escape doesn’t seem like a sane plan to us. But then again, we couldn’t conceive of a way to knock out everyone in an entire room with the click of a button—and not even pick up a conventional weapon.”

  “Before we move on, I want to circle back to this Blue Moon Rising situation,” Black said. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me it’s a tool you’re using to fight terrorism.”

  “Is this what you need to keep going?” Blunt asked.

  Black nodded. “For my sanity.”

  “Fine,” Blunt said. “This is a tool we’re using to not just fight but eliminate terrorist cells all over the world. I’ll fill you in on all the details when we’re done, but in the meantime, just know that everything is legitimate. But the methods we’re employing are top secret, even from Congress.”

  Black eyed Blunt carefully. “Okay, I’m sticking with you on this one. But I’m holding you to your word. I want to learn all about this after we’re done. I need to trust that I’m working for someone who truly has this country’s best interest at heart.”

  “I understand,” Blunt said. “Now, to the task at hand. Any thoughts on the best way to proceed with our capture of Antoine?”

  “Isn’t the FBI going to get involved on this one?” Shields asked. “Are our services really necessary?”

  “If they catch him, it’ll just give him the platform he wants to spew lies about our intelligence community and expose highly guarded secrets,” Blunt said. “We need to snag him before anybody else even knows we have him.”

  “And I know just how to do it,” Black said.

  “I’m all ears,” Blunt said.

  “You may not like this,” Shields said. “So, brace yourself.”

  Blunt chuckled. “How bad could it be?”

  “We want to use you as bait,” Black said.

  “You think he wants me that bad?” Blunt said, pointing to his chest “I thought he wanted to publicly embarrass and ridicule me.”

  “Which he already did,” Black said. “But he also wants you dead, which you would be if I’d succumbed to his ultrasonic weapon. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. But he’s going after you full bore.”

  “And you think we’re just going to lure him in like a fly to honey?” Blunt asked.

  Black nodded. “Did you ever meet him anywhere?”

  “My mountain home near Fort Valley. It’s technically a safe house I’ve utilized to host contract workers. We met there once.”

  “Think he would look for you there?” Shields asked.

  “If we got a message to him that I’d be there,” Blunt said.

  Black chuckled. “You have his cell phone number?”

  “I don’t need it,” Blunt said. I just need to tell the right person where I’m gonna be.”

  Shields scribbled down some notes. “Look, you do realize that if you do this, it’s likely going to mean that this place is burned for you?”

  “I’m fine with that,” he said. “We need to catch this bastard before he does anything else.”

  “Who’s the right person to tell that you’re going to be there?” Black asked.

  Blunt stroked his chin as his gaze met Black’s. “I’ve been thinking about this. If Antoine planned all this, someone with intimate knowledge of the hearing had to be letting him know all the details like where to be and what time to be there. Everything was hush-hush up until a few days ago. So, if he was planning to ambush me publicly, how would he have been able to do it unless someone told him when and where I’d be, someone who helped set all of this up.”

  Black set his jaw and shook his head subtly. “Wilson Wellington.”

  Blunt nodded in agreement. “That bastard has been orchestrating this from the very beginning.”

  “And you think he’ll get a message to Antoine for you?” Shields asked.

  “Most assuredly after the news about his involvement in a cover-up scheme from the war breaks tomorrow,” Blunt said. “He’ll likely do whatever he can to strike back and strip me of my power. But it’ll be too late for him to do anything meaningful to me.”

  “I thought Allison Carter wasn’t helping you out?” Shields asked.

  “She’s not, so I shared the information with another reporter,” Blunt said. “There’s going to be a big exposé published any moment now—at least, that’s what I've been told. And if it is, then we can bank on Wellington finding a way to get that piece of information to Antoine.”
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  Black nodded. “In that case, looks like you’ve got a call to make—and some bags to pack.”

  CHAPTER 31

  MICHELLE MORGAN SPENT HER entire morning on the phone, chasing down leads and trying to get people to comment on the story that fell into her lap before she even bought a cup of coffee. Her phone had rung just as she was getting out of bed with a call from a number she didn't recognize. Five minutes later, a former senator she’d once profiled, J.D. Blunt, was giving her the scoop of a lifetime. And as a recent hire for the Associated Press’s Washington bureau, the story was something she desperately needed to establish herself as a hard-hitting reporter.

  During his time in congress, Wilson Wellington had developed such a reputation for his ability to survive scandals that he’d been given the nickname “The Teflon Man” by Morgan’s fellow media members. No amount of extramarital affairs with staffers or campaign finance charges or censures from his fellow senators were enough to get the voters from his state to send him packing. He seemed so immune to damning behavior that most reporters around Washington barely even raised an eyebrow when a new indiscretion became public. But this one felt different. This was the cover-up of a setup, a plot to murder someone.

  All Morgan had to do was fill in the blanks, something even Blunt couldn’t do.

  As she pored over the report Blunt had emailed, she couldn’t help but wonder what could motivate a military commander to send one of his own into the line of fire, knowing he wouldn't come back alive. For all intents and purposes, the action constituted setting up a murder, a crime far more nefarious than simply arranging for campaign contributions to get funneled into re-election coffers. A man was dead because of what Wellington did. While his constituents might shrug, a military tribunal wouldn’t. His position since moving into civilian life wouldn’t matter either.