Power Play (Titus Black Thriller series Book 7)

by R. J. Patterson

  Black bit his lip as he pondered everything that had just happened. He needed to make a move quickly before he ran out of options.

  CHAPTER 25

  Washington, D.C.

  J.D. BLUNT SCANNED THE TEXT message from Christina Shields about Black. While she’d lost contact with him again, she let him know that he was still alive based on the activation of a device that allowed her to access DarkNite’s server. Shields reported that she was able to download a treasure trove of data before the connection broke.

  Having one of his operatives in a compromising situation was disconcerting, but he was confident that if anyone could handle it, Black could. The more pressing issue was the one that had President Young up in arms—and that was figuring out a way to get Dixon out of custody so she could fight the charges.

  However, that was secondary to a new issue that had arisen, demanding immediate action: Dixon’s censure by the House.

  Blunt received a message from one of his insiders that House leaders were planning to censure Dixon. If that motion passed, Dixon would summarily be stripped of her committee positions until she could answer all the charges. That wasn’t going to happen fast enough for the committee to advance the Defense Oversight Bill to a vote. And Congress was champing at the bit to pass it.

  Blunt gnawed on a cigar and pondered who might be able to help him stave off Dixon’s censure. He needed a true ally, someone he trusted that had been true to their word in the past. Then the answer came to him: Natalie Richards.

  Richards was in a similar position to Dixon—a strong woman who had to fight and claw for every piece of power in a male-dominated legislature. It was a long shot since Richards had barely been in Washington for a year, but it was far more likely than finding someone on the other side of the aisle to work with him to stop the censure altogether.

  Blunt called Richards’ administrative assistant to set up an impromptu lunch. Richards’ assistant said she would have to decline because she already had a lunch arranged.

  “Where is she?” Blunt asked. “I need to speak with her today.”

  “I can pass a message on to her,” the assistant offered.

  “No, this is urgent.”

  “I’m sorry, Senator Blunt, but I can’t give that information out.”

  “Who is she meeting with?” Blunt asked.

  “Please, Senator. You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Look, I have an urgent matter to discuss with her, which would be very beneficial to her career. Can you please at least tell me who she’s meeting with?”

  “I’m not sure anyone is going to help her career more than who she’s meeting with.”

  Blunt realized that was about all he was going to get out of Richards’ tight-lipped assistant. However, she’d at least given him a clue. So, he said goodbye before ending the call.

  Who could help Richards’ career?

  He thought for a moment about who would fit that description. Bob Timmons, the Speaker of the House, was who first came to mind, but why would he be meeting with her? Then it hit him. Timmons was already thinking like Blunt: Replace Dixon with Richards, the party’s new up-and-coming star.

  Blunt had a great relationship with Timmons and his staff, so Blunt decided to call the speaker’s office and find out if his hunch was true. After a short conversation, Blunt’s suspicions were confirmed.

  And there’s only one place Timmons went for lunch in the middle of a workweek—Off the Record at the Hay-Adams Hotel.

  Blunt grabbed his jacket and navigated through Washington’s slugging traffic as quickly as possible to catch the two.

  When he arrived at Off the Record, Blunt spied Richards sitting alone, finishing a drink. He slipped into the empty seat across from her while she was in the middle of a final gulp. She nearly spit her drink out before regaining her composure.

  “Senator Blunt,” she said, her eyes widening, “what are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “President Young needs your help.”

  She placed her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Does he now? What could he possibly want from a freshman congresswoman?”

  “Are you familiar with the Adrianna Dixon situation?” Blunt asked.

  “How can I not be? That’s all anyone is talking about on the hill, wondering how it happened or how come she hadn’t been arrested sooner, depending on which party the person belongs to.”

  “Of course, the Capitol is such a bastion of bipartisanship.”

  She chuckled. “Can you make this quick? I really need to get going.”

  Blunt nodded. “I’ll walk out with you.”

  The two stood and headed for the exit together.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I’m all ears.”

  “I think you’re being coy with me,” Blunt said. “Did Timmons approach you about taking over for Dixon?”

  “That’s our little secret.”

  Blunt sighed. “Look, I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll spell it out for you. If Dixon gets censured—”

  “When Dixon gets censured,” she corrected.

  Blunt paused and eyed her closely. “Did Timmons tell you this was happening?”

  “Of course, but it’s not like he had a choice. Two months ago, we censured Edward Probst for nearly the same thing. And while I know this town is full of blatant hypocrisy, this was just too difficult to pass.”

  “So, am I right in assuming that Timmons wanted you to fill Dixon’s committee seats?”

  Richards nodded, her wavy brown hair bouncing as she did. “Not all of them, but a few of the higher profile ones, like the defense committee.”

  “In exchange for what?”

  She cocked her head and drew back. “I don’t think I understand what you mean.”

  “Did he ask you to do him any favors if he appointed you to those seats?”

  “Not really,” she said. “Though he did mention something about releasing the Defense Oversight Bill to the house so the entire body could vote on it.”

  “You can’t do that,” Blunt said.

  “Can’t do what?”

  “Don’t release that bill,” Blunt said. “That strips the executive branch of any ability to launch independent investigations into the military.”

  She smiled and patted Blunt on the shoulder. “What’s so awful about that? Lord knows we have enough investigations around here. We don’t need the president starting his own too.”

  Blunt stopped and narrowed his eyes, his gaze meeting Richards’. “I know you’re new here, but I must warn you that allowing this to become a law would be a major mistake. There are nefarious forces at work within the Pentagon that I recently helped flush out, and we need to investigate to see if our own military isn’t compromised anymore.”

  “Is that really a job for the president?” she asked. “He already has so much power when it comes to controlling them that I don’t see what it would hurt to rein him in.”

  “Trust me, this is not good policy,” Blunt said. “It’s going to weaken our ability to make sure we don’t have foreign actors or traitors pulling the military’s levers.”

  “Sorry, but I’m gonna have to disagree. We still need to catch up properly soon.”

  “Come on, Natalie,” Blunt pleaded.

  “Sorry, Senator, I’ve got another appointment with some of my constituents in fifteen minutes,” she said, continuing on without looking back. “I don’t want to be late.”

  Blunt stamped his foot and turned to walk in the other direction. He didn’t want to deliver the bad news to the president, not yet anyway.

  Blunt fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called Robert Besserman, the deputy director of the CIA.

  “J.D., how the hell are you?” Besserman asked.

  “You don’t want me to answer that question right now,” Blunt said.

  “That good, huh?”

  “Yeah, something like that. Look, the reason I’m calling is because I need
to find out who’s behind that arrest warrant the FBI served on Adrianna Dixon. Do you know anything about that?”

  “No,” Besserman said, “but I found it to be rather peculiar at the time. Dixon is a saint.”

  “Exactly,” Blunt said. “I know she wouldn’t be doing what she’s accused of doing.”

  “You thinking someone set her up?”

  “I don’t know what to think at this point. We live in Washington, and I’m constantly surprised that I’m ever surprised when I learn about what illegal activity people in this town are engaged in.”

  “I’ll make a few calls for you,” Besserman said. “As soon as I hear something, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks, Robert.”

  Blunt ended the call and let out a sigh of relief.

  At least I’ll have some shred of good news to tell the president.

  CHAPTER 26

  Cildir, Turkey

  BLACK GRITTED HIS TEETH as they glided across the ice. Hulak rambled on about another legend from the area, but Black wasn’t interested in anything but escaping. His options were limited given the conditions, yet he still had hope. However, he couldn’t wait long.

  They zipped past a couple of fishermen still perched on their seats near their small holes in the ice. The lanterns were barely visible when they approached but gave off enough ambient light through the fog that Black could make out shapes. After he passed a second group of fishermen, Black determined he wouldn’t pass a third one before taking action.

  As they sped through the darkness, Black saw another pin of light piercing the fog.

  Here goes nothing.

  Black lunged to his left and rolled out of the sleigh, falling into the void of Lake Cildir.

  He scrambled to his feet as he heard the sleigh’s brakes digging into the ice and Hulak shouting something.

  Black didn’t have much time, but he hoped it would be enough.

  * * *

  PETROV REACHED FOR a fistful of Black’s coat as the FSB agent noticed his prisoner escaping out of the other side of the sleigh. With Black’s hands still cuffed, Petrov didn’t think Black would be able to pose much of a threat on the ice. But in the darkness, Petrov was uncertain about the kind of danger Black might pose.

  Petrov produced another pair of handcuffs from his pocket and fastened one on Kozlov and one on the sleigh.

  “What is this?” Kozlov asked.

  “You’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” Petrov said in a hushed tone.

  Hulak turned around. “What are you doing to my sleigh? What is going on anyway? What are you—”

  The questions stopped when Petrov saw the man’s eyes fall on the weapon.

  “This is a state matter,” Petrov said. “But don’t worry, old man. You will be fairly compensated.”

  “You can’t go into the dark like that,” Hulak said. “You need a light.”

  The driver clicked on a flashlight and then tossed it to Petrov.

  “Spasibo,” Petrov said as he caught the device. “I’ll be back shortly.”

  Hulak nodded. “You must be. We can’t wait more than a few minutes. The horses will start to freeze up in this weather. They need to either stay warm or keep moving.”

  “This shouldn’t take long,” Petrov said.

  He spun and scanned the area for the American, sweeping back and forth across the ice. Petrov didn’t see as much as a silhouette of anything. Nothing but a vast area of darkness.

  “Agent Black, you need to come back to the sleigh,” Petrov said. “You won’t last long out here. These conditions are brutal. You’ll be dead before sunrise.”

  Petrov wandered in one direction for a few meters and then ambled in the opposite direction. After a couple of minutes, he’d lost sight of the lights on the sleigh. He heard what he thought were footsteps and spun behind him, only to see an oncoming sleigh swerve to avoid him at the last second.

  Turning back around, Petrov continued his systematic search. Ten strides to the left, a ninety-degree sweep with the flashlight. Twenty strides back to the right, another ninety-degree sweep with the flashlight. Followed by ten strides forward before repeating the entire process all over again.

  Petrov could almost taste redemption. He’d been maligned by most of the other agents and supervisors at the FSB, dismissed because he’d spent time in the military. The lifelong FSB agents viewed Russian army commanders as lazy and sloppy, unable to translate their skills to the rigors of investigative work.

  But Petrov was determined to prove them wrong. He envisioned his triumphant return to the office, dragging behind him both the murderous American spy and the report of a dead mercenary hacker. He’d be respected again.

  Now all he had to do was find Agent Black.

  “Agent Black, it’d be a shame if you died out here tonight,” Petrov shouted again.

  All he wanted was to hear something—the shuffling of feet, the crackling of ice, the gasping of breath in the dropping cold.

  But everything in his near vicinity remained silent.

  * * *

  BLACK FELT HIS FACE burning after landing on the ice and striking it so hard. Without his hands free, he didn’t have a way to fully brace himself for the impact. But he didn’t break any bones or sprain any ankles. And at the moment, being fleet of foot was most important.

  He heard the screeching of the runners on the frozen surface and scrambled to his feet. Crouching low in the darkness, Black moved to the edge of visibility with Hulak’s sleigh. The faint light some forty meters away served as Black’s beacon in the void. After about a minute, he heard Petrov walking toward him and calling out.

  But Black wasn’t interested in another conversation with the Russian megalomaniac. All Black needed to do was get in position and execute his plan.

  “Agent Black, it’d be a shame if you died out here tonight,” Petrov said.

  Black agreed.

  It’d be a damn shame if I died, but not if you did.

  Black wanted to kill the vengeful Petrov, who had plans to frame him. But the last words Shields said at the gas station at the border kept Black focused on the most important part of the mission—escaping with his life.

  As Petrov opened his mouth again, Black sprang onto the Russian from behind. Black encircled his arms over the man and drove him into the ice, dislodging the gun. Petrov managed to wriggle free and started to wave his flashlight back and forth in search of the gun.

  Black broke into a sprint and headed back toward the sleigh. However, Petrov, who had ditched his search for the weapon, dove at Black’s feet, knocking him to the ground. Black hit the ice hard and slid for a few meters with Petrov in tow. As soon as Petrov released Black’s feet to get up, he slammed the heel of his boot into the Russian’s face, knocking him backward.

  Black jumped to his feet and resumed his sprint toward what he thought was the sleigh. Instead, he found himself next to an ice shanty with a small lantern. Petrov slammed Black into the wooden structure, toppling it and revealing a man and a boy with their lines in the water.

  The man shouted something at Petrov and Black after losing the shelter. But both men ignored him and re-engaged in their fight. With the advantage of having both hands free, Petrov delivered a combination of wicked punches against the side of Black’s face. However, he managed to stay on his feet until he slipped backward on a patch of slick ice. His foot dropped into the hole the fishermen had created, pinning him down for a moment.

  As Black scrambled to get his leg freed, he noticed Petrov grab an auger and raise it over his head. He swung downward with such force that it would’ve knocked out Black, if not killed him on impact. But Black rolled to the side, avoiding a blow. Missing Black caused Petrov to stumble and fall off balance.

  And that was the opening Black needed to regain the upper ground in the fight. He hit Petrov with a roundhouse kick, sending the Russian sprawling to the ground. Then Black climbed on top of Petrov and started beating him with his fist
s still tethered together. Petrov tried to get up to avoid more blows, but when he did, Black delivered a vicious head butt that knocked out Petrov.

  Black reached inside Petrov’s pockets and found the key to the handcuffs. After Black freed himself, he took Petrov’s flashlight, keys, and a wad of cash before sliding his body far away from the ice hole. Then Black turned and apologized to the man and his son for the destruction they’d caused. He handed the man two hundred U.S. dollars before hustling off into the dark.

  Black panicked for a moment as he searched for the sleigh. But after hunting for a couple of minutes, he located the familiar pattern of lights on the sleigh and rushed over to it.

  “I was just about to leave,” Hulak said.

  “Thank you for waiting,” Black said.

  “What about your friend?”

  “He’s decided to get home another way.”

  Hulak grunted. “Russians are so weird sometimes.”

  Kozlov nudged Black and gestured toward the handcuffs tethering one of the hacker’s hands to the sleigh.

  “What happened?” Kozlov asked.

  Black shrugged and inserted the key into Kozlov’s cuffs. “I guess he got lost on the ice. He’ll find his way back.”

  “Will you still take me with you?” Kozlov asked.

  “A promise is a promise,” Black said. “You’ll be free before you know it.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Washington, D.C.

  HAWK SETTLED INTO his seat at the back of Gaston Hall on Georgetown University’s campus. The auditorium was nearly filled to capacity, but Hawk had managed to secure a complimentary ticket to hear Martin Kellerman speak at the gathering held in conjunction with the TechXpo D.C. conference. The event had been sold out for months, but Hawk managed to convince Casey, Kellerman’s assistant, to save him one at will call.

  The event was billed as a “Meeting of the Minds” but was little more than twenty-minute speeches emceed by Wired magazine’s chief editor. He introduced five different experts before Kellerman took the stage. Based on the way the room fell silent and most of the attendees moved to the edge of their seats, Hawk knew Kellerman was the person they’d all come to hear.