Brady Hawk 19 - Divide and Conquer

by R. J. Patterson

  “He didn’t commit suicide?” Alex asked.

  “It sure did look like it, but my brother was such a narcissist that he’d never do anything like that. Falcon Sinclair’s goons staged the scene. But there’s no doubt that they murdered him.”

  “And do they know about you?”

  Mia shook her head. “I’m just his live-in sister who worked at a coffee shop during the day and had no knowledge of his business dealings.”

  “Is this why you wanted to meet, to tell me what really happened?”

  “Quite the contrary. I wanted to give you the information you expected to get.”

  “And what’s that?” Alex asked.

  “Everything that’s on this flash drive has been unlocked and is open for your viewing pleasure. I hope you accept this as my apology for what my bother did.”

  Alex furrowed her brow. “What exactly did he do?”

  “He told Sinclair about your meeting and then passed along phony information.”

  “I’m surprised you’re helping me considering that I’m part of the U.S. government.”

  “You won’t be when you see what’s on there.”

  Alex held up the device. “What am I going to find on here?”

  “The truth about what Sinclair wants to do to the world—dominate every sector of it and control humanity. Based on what I’ve read about him and his philosophy about the planet and human population, he believes that if he can control everything, he can make the world a better place. But his proposals are draconian and will amount to most people being little more than slaves.”

  “That’s all in here?” Alex asked.

  “None of that is,” Mia said. “That’s just what I’ve gathered over the past few years from following him. What you’ll find on there is his means of accomplishing this end.”

  “And what’s that?” Alex asked.

  “You need to see it for yourself. I can’t really describe the magnitude of the weapon he’s built and the way he intends to use it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s all on there,” Mia said, nodding at the thumb drive in Alex’s hand.

  “Why are you doing this?” Alex asked. “You know that, in a roundabout way, I work for the U.S. government.”

  “Yeah, but this is a fight we must all take up against Falcon Sinclair. You’ll see what I mean when you sift through the files. If he gets his way, we’re all in trouble, every last human on the planet.”

  “Thank you,” Alex said, clutching the memory stick in her hand. “I knew your brother, and he was a good man.”

  “No, he wasn’t,” Mia said. “He put up a good front, but don’t lionize him. He was a greedy bastard who only thought about himself, especially in this instance. And unfortunately, that’s why he’s dead today.”

  Alex dug her laptop out of her bag and inserted the flash drive.

  “I’m not sure you want to do that here,” Mia said. “If anyone else sees this—”

  “Just make sure they don’t. There’s too much at stake right now. I don’t have any time to lose.”

  “Okay,” Mia said. “I understand. And you’re right. He plans to demonstrate that weapon in two days.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s all in there,” Mia said.

  “Where exactly?” Alex asked again.

  Mia shrugged. “I didn’t take the time to look up the coordinates, but it’s all right there.”

  Alex’s mouth gaped as she stared at the screen revealing the schematics of what Sinclair had created. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Believe it,” Mia said. “If he unleashes this thing, we’re all going to be bowing down to him and kissing his feet.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Alex said.

  “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  Alex cocked her head to one side. “What are you talking about?”

  “I’ve been researching about that island for quite a few years now, trying to figure out what Sinclair was doing. It’s got one of the tightest cybersecurity systems in the world.”

  “Do you have any plans for the next few days?” Alex asked.

  “Well, I—”

  “Good,” Alex said. “Go home and grab a bag and throw some clothes in it. You’re coming with me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Port Klang, Malaysia

  PRESIDENT YOUNG DREW a deep breath before boarding Falcon Sinclair’s luxury liner. The frenetic pace of loading and unloading of cargo ships nearby stood in stark contrast to the serene water surrounding the boat. Young squinted as he peeked at the sun, which was still climbing. While he knew the trip was short, he appreciated the opportunity to escape Washington’s constant pressure cooker, even if his presence in this part of the world was still business related.

  “A fine day to set sail, isn’t it?” Sinclair asked as he threw his arm around Young.

  “Any day in the water is a good day by my standards,” he said, a faint smile appearing on his lips.

  “From what I understand about American politics, any day not spent in Washington is a good day.”

  Young chuckled. “That’s not far from the truth. There are days when I feel like I’m mired on a sinking ship full of rats and snakes.”

  “Sounds like a family dinner at my former in-laws, emphasis on former there.”

  Young nodded as if he understood but didn’t say a word.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Sinclair said. “That was rather insensitive of me. I’m sure after the ordeal you’ve just been through that you’d probably give almost anything to be back at your in-laws for a meal with Madeline. Please forgive me. I—”

  “No need to apologize. And to be honest, between you and me, never having to endure another one of their family functions again is the only thing that brings me joy when I think about Madeline being gone.”

  “I lost half my fortune to divorce my wife Kitty, and I have to say it was money well spent. I don’t have to listen anymore to her father and mother discuss high society and bicker over which spoon we’re supposed to use for soup versus tea. Mindless banter like that is enough to make any man want to leap out of a window.”

  Young ran his hand along the leather seat and shook his head. “From the looks of things, I don’t think your bottom line has been affected much.”

  “Not at all,” Sinclair said. “Since Kitty left, I’ve been far more productive and have managed to find time for profitable projects that were merely untouched ideas. It’s amazing how women can hold you back.”

  Young bristled at the comment but didn’t say anything. He loved Madeline and never saw her high maintenance ways as a hindrance to his ability to perform at a high level. Without her, he felt his motivation waning. But he wasn’t interested in quarreling with Sinclair over his views on women, especially considering that Sinclair promised to demonstrate a new piece of technology that could be vital as it pertained to keeping Americans safe.

  “So, when are we going to leave port?” Young asked in an effort to change topics.

  “Soon, I hope,” Sinclair said, ushering Young below deck. “We’re still waiting on some more participants for this demonstration, but they should be here any minute now.”

  Young furrowed his brow. “Other participants?”

  “Oh, yes, that must’ve slipped my mind,” Sinclair said as he shut the door behind him. “I’m a businessman. You didn’t think you were the only government I’m courting with this technology, did you?”

  Young narrowed his eyes. “Who else is joining us?”

  Sinclair winked. “Don't worry. You'll get along just fine with this gentleman. In fact, I think the two of you might have more in common than you think.”

  “Who is it?” Young asked, his tone measured and firm.

  A knock at the door delayed Sinclair’s response. “Why don’t I just show him to you?” Sinclair asked as he strode across the room. He tugged on the handle of the door and opened it, revealing one of the g
uests Sinclair was referring to.

  Young stared slack-jawed at the man for a moment before speaking. “You must be joking.”

  Standing at the door with a glass tumbler in his hand was Russian president Dmitry Karelin. He scowled and glared at the US president before turning his attention toward Sinclair.

  “You didn’t mention that he would be here,” Karelin said, pointing at Young as he entered the room.

  The door slammed behind him as the engines whined. With the ship lurching forward, Young reached for the back of a nearby chair to steady himself. Once his feet were firmly on the ground, he moved toward Sinclair.

  “What kind of sick joke is this?” Young asked.

  “I can assure you, Mr. President, this is no joke,” Sinclair said. “I’m all business, particularly when it comes to these sorts of demonstrations.”

  Young edged closer to Sinclair, getting within inches as the two men went nose to nose. “Where are we going?”

  “Calm down,” Sinclair said as he backed away. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. I have no intention of bringing any harm to either of you while aboard this ship. Both of your security details are with us, and it’d be lunacy to do anything other than endear myself to you.”

  “Springing Karelin on me does nothing of the sort,” Young said. “In fact, a move like that does quite the opposite.”

  Sinclair wagged his finger at Young. “You Americans are the absolute worst at making hasty judgments. Why don’t you inquire about all the facts of this endeavor before casting judgments and storming off with your empty threats? You know good and well that if anything I have will benefit your country, you’ll be begging for it.”

  Karelin smirked at Young and shook his head. “Mr. President, this is exactly why you don’t understand the finer points of diplomacy.”

  “That’s rich coming from you,” Young said with a sneer. “Bulldozing your way around Eastern Europe seems to lack the subtle nuances of negotiations.”

  “There’s a time to deal and a time to fight,” Karelin said. “And right now is a time to listen.”

  “Did you know I’d be here?” Young asked.

  “I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with Mr. Sinclair. He’s always sure to surprise with whatever he’s doing.”

  “I’m not fond of this type of surprise,” Young snapped.

  “Gentlemen, everything will be made clear in due time,” Sinclair said. “In the meantime, have a drink from my bar over here and relax. We have about a twelve-hour voyage ahead of us.”

  “Where are we going?” Young asked.

  “That, too, is a surprise, but you’ll find out soon enough,” Sinclair answered with a wink.

  * * *

  AFTER SETTLING INTO his cabin on Sinclair’s yacht, Young and his Secret Service agents discussed how they would handle the situation, now full of unknowns. The leader of the security detail recommended that they get a helicopter to get him off the boat as soon as possible, an idea that Young wasn’t totally opposed to. But he didn’t want any new technology that Sinclair was peddling to fall into the hands of the Russians without at least knowing what it was capable of doing. After bandying about several ideas, the consensus was that if Young must stay, the team must be vigilant and not allow the president into any room without first sweeping it. Young agreed to the terms, though he wasn’t entirely sure he would abide by them.

  Young passed the time by reading over secured documents on his laptop and writing up proposals for several new initiatives he wanted Congress to address in the coming year. It was busy work to keep his mind off the endless possibilities of what Falcon Sinclair was about to demonstrate for both him and Karelin—or, for that matter, where they were going. Young had studied a map for hours on the flight to Kuala Lumpur and couldn’t for the life of him pinpoint a location.

  Young took a short nap and awoke to a knock on the door from one his Secret Service agents. “Sir, Mr. Sinclair is here to see you.”

  Young rolled out of bed before lumbering toward the door.

  “Is it time?” Young asked before peeking at his watch.

  Sinclair nodded. “We’re docking into port as we speak. Have your men ready as we’re about to go ashore.”

  Ten minutes later, Young exited the cabin and reached the deck followed by Karelin and both their security teams. Night had fallen hours ago, and the sky glittered with stars on the moonless night. A cool breeze whipped across Young’s face, while nearby palm trees rustled.

  “Where are we?” Young asked.

  “It’s certainly not Washington,” Karelin cracked. “I don’t smell a stench.”

  “That only happens when Congress is in session,” Young snapped.

  Karelin chuckled. “Still pitching yourself as a man of the people, I see.”

  “If the shoe fits,” Young said.

  “Your country is so gullible,” Karelin scoffed.

  “At least our government tells its citizens the truth.”

  Karelin snickered. “Delusion is a terrible thing, comrade.”

  Young ignored Karelin and walked up the ramp onto the dock where Sinclair was waiting for them.

  “Welcome to the Andaman Islands, and, more precisely, Rutland Island,” Sinclair said. “I trust that you’ll enjoy your accommodations this evening before we reconvene in the morning. I will be riding with you all on this bus and be happy to answer any questions you might have. So, gentlemen, comrades, is there anything you’d like to know?”

  “What exactly are we going to see tomorrow?” Young asked.

  “That will have to wait until after you’ve both had a good night of sleep.”

  * * *

  YOUNG DIDN’T APPRECIATE all of Sinclair’s theatrics, but there was no argument that the living quarters were worthy of kings and presidents. Marble floors, mahogany walls, hand-crafted leather couches—Young made a note to inquire about Sinclair’s designer before the morning meetings.

  The White House sure could use a facelift.

  The Secret Service agents scurried ahead of Young as he toured the rooms. Once the security detail gave him the signal that the place was clear, Young settled in for the evening. And by 10:30 p.m., he was fast asleep.

  When he awoke, he was treated to a hearty breakfast before Sinclair ushered all his guests across the property to a building hidden in one of Rutland Island’s natural rain forest habitats.

  “I didn’t know the Indian government allowed foreigners to inhabit this island,” Young said.

  Sinclair smiled and winked at Young. “With enough money, anything is possible. And in this case, all it took was installing a pipeline to bring fresh water here along with establishing a power unit. We needed both of those things for our laboratory anyway.”

  “You do research here?” Karelin asked.

  “Quite a bit, actually,” Sinclair said. “By conducting our business in such a manner, we avoid outside prying eyes, corporate spies, and blatant lies.”

  “Sounds reasonable,” Karelin said.

  “It’s the only way I operate. Life is too short for someone to steal your ideas and profit off them. Sadly, that’s the world we live in today, and I won’t apologize for taking every precaution to prevent that from happening.”

  Sinclair hustled up the steps and glanced over his shoulder at his party. He walked over to a black box to the right of the front door and depressed his forehead against it. A red laser scanner moved across his face before the screen flashed green and the door unlocked.

  “Now, if you’ll wait just inside,” Sinclair said as he swung the door open and held it for his guests. “I’ll give you a brief primer, and we’ll get started.”

  Young, Karelin, and the rest of Sinclair’s entourage congregated in the narthex, awaiting the billionaire’s next instructions. He gestured toward one of the doors before walking up to it. He placed his face in front of another facial recognition scanner.

  “State of the art security for some of our more sensitive rooms here,”
Sinclair announced as he opened the door.

  But when Young’s Secret Service team attempted to go inside first, Sinclair slid in front of them, blocking their way.

  “Excuse me,” one of the agents said. “We need to sweep this room first.”

  Sinclair didn’t budge. “There are only two people allowed in that room besides me—and that’s President Young and President Karelin. So, if you’ll kindly step aside so they can join me, I’d be most grateful.”

  “If we don’t go inside, he doesn’t go inside,” the agent said with a growl.

  “Fine,” Sinclair said. “I’ll just take the Russian president. Thank you for your time. You’re free to go.”

  Young pushed his way past his guard. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out here and wait for me.”

  The agent relented, stepping back with a sigh. Young gave the man a reassuring nod.

  “This is not what we agreed upon,” the agent said.

  “I know, but it’s okay. Mr. Sinclair isn’t going to do anything reckless. And neither is President Karelin. It’s just a cordial meeting. Now, carry on.”

  Young wasn’t sure he believed the words coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Sinclair showing off a piece of high-tech weaponry without at least knowing what his enemies had in their possession. He wasn’t entirely convinced that this was a simple demonstration, but he was confident that Sinclair wouldn’t do something to jeopardize his fortune.

  Once they were all inside, the door locked behind them, the room rotated ninety degrees, and it then sank beneath ground level.

  “What’s happening?” Karelin asked.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Sinclair said. “We just need to move to a more secure portion of the building.”

  A half-minute later, the room came to a stop and the windows revealed that the trio of men were standing in a control center overlooking a warehouse floor. Below them, dozens of workers clad in all black outfits occupied computer terminals, communicating with one another while they typed.

  “What are we looking at here?” Young asked.

  “Welcome to the Janus Control Center,” Sinclair said as he swept his hand past the large plate-glass window. “Everyone down there has been preparing diligently for the past six months in anticipation of your arrival.”