by T C Miller
Banner cleared his throat before speaking, “Have you eaten anything lately?”
“Couple of doughnuts and coffee this morning. I’m not really hungry.”
“I understand, but you need to keep your strength up. Do you want to go to the Flag Mess, or should I have a meal brought up?”
“I don’t want to leave his side.”
“Not to be indelicate, but he is in a coma. You can slip away long enough to eat. I’ll have security come and get you if there’s any change.”
“Which brings up a point, why do you have guards on him? Is he in danger?”
“Standard procedure…” Banner paused to compose what he wanted to say, “We’ve worked together for a long time, so I’m going to be straight with you. The attack was directed at the executive suite, which means they were either after Bart or me. Odds are it was me, but I can’t rule him out. Which means you
may be in the cross hairs, too.”
“Why?”
“I couldn’t prove it in a court of law, but I’m sure it’s the Consortium. I’m waiting for a few more pieces of the puzzle to come together to make a final determination.”
“Is the work Bart and I did during the Cold War related?”
“I suppose it’s possible.”
“How could anybody hold a grudge so long?”
“I don’t know, and besides, other initiatives are in play. It’s possible they want to destabilize our operations or weaken our capabilities. Maybe they want to expose BlackStar. Whatever the reason, we need to stay on guard.”
“Is that why Bart is in the executive wing?”
“As Deputy Director, he qualifies, and it is a lot easier to secure. I’ll have a guard on his room twenty-four hours a day until we figure out who’s behind this. You can stay in the guest room here in the suite.”
Nora sat down heavily on a chrome and Naugahyde chair and stared at the carpet. The creak of the upholstery sounded loud in the hushed room. “We owe a debt of gratitude to you.”
“And I to you. No thanks are necessary. I take care of my people. Besides, I could have taken point in the utility closet, and I’d be the one in the bed. Bart saved me from being shot, and I’m going to repay him by finding those who were responsible, which means I have to run down a slew of promising leads.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to bother you with it. Concentrate on being here for Bart.”
Nora rubbed her hands together and lowered her head for a moment. “You’ll fill me in later, though, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ve also assigned one of my security team as your driver. Like I said, stay close to Bart and let’s get both of you back on the job soon.”
“Thanks, again, John. By the way, I tracked down a few leads on the leak, and you’re not going to like what I found.”
“Should I sit down for this?”
“You might want to. I left a stack of printouts on your desk showing a possibility the leaks were coming right from your office….”
“My office? That can’t be, I’m always careful with communications, spoken or written.…”
“Not you, John, your assistant.”
“Justin? No, he’s been with the agency forever. He was Walter’s assistant before I took over.”
“Which means he’s had a long time to do serious damage. My instinct tells me he’s the source. Take a
look at the data and see if you agree.”
“I will, and I’ll also have him detained.”
“You’d better get going. You have an agency to run and investigations to oversee.”
“Right.”
They stood and shared a pat-on-the-back hug before he left. Nora sat next to the bed and held Bart’s hand as she prayed for him.
Tarlton Arms Apartments, Georgetown, Maryland
Glenn Marks slouched in the driver’s seat of the car he rented with a credit card under one of a dozen aliases he created over the years. He was parked across from the apartment building he lived in for the past seven years under the name Justin Todd.
It was more than a simple alias, thanks to skilled Consortium technicians. It survived a background investigation by the NSA, including interviews with phony family members and friends. Highly paid actors did topnotch work convincing bureaucrats Justin grew up with them, attended the same schools, and participated in the same social events.
They provided expertly doctored photos showing him with friends and family at various stages of life. He appeared at weddings, funerals, and the occasional christening of the offspring of friends he never knew.
The fake Justin submitted himself to chemically induced hypnotherapy to implant similar memories. It fortified his ability to pass endless polygraph exams and interviews. The Consortium invested large sums of money and time to ensure he was believable, and it was now history. As far as Glenn was concerned, Justin Todd died earlier in the day.
Glenn stared at his apartment building from a parking spot concealed by the shade of huge oak trees. He nearly convinced himself he could safely enter his cozy apartment when a faint shadow flitted across a curtain.
An intruder was in his home. Well, technically, Justin Todd’s home. He slid down as far as possible in the seat and considered his options. His controller expected him to go back to work tomorrow as if the attack on the Executive Suite never occurred.
It was an unlikely scenario. Security at NSA headquarters increased a hundred-fold after the attack on Winfield, making it impossible to gather any intel. The time was ripe to terminate his position with the NSA, as well as the identity of Justin Todd. He had a sizable fortune in overseas accounts, and it was time to move on.
Glenn pulled away from the curb and used half-a-dozen evasive techniques to make sure nobody was tracking him. The next chapter in his life was about to begin.
***
Chapter Thirteen
Marston Home
“Where is food, old woman?”
Mary considered not answering Pyotyr’s rude question. “Excuse me, what did you call me?”
“I ask where is food.”
“Hold your horses, I’m working on it.”
“What does this mean, ‘hold your horses’?”
“You’ve never heard the expression? My friends all use it. It means be patient.”
“I am not patient, I am hungry. When do I eat?”
“As soon as I get it ready…about half-an-hour.”
Pyotr scowled. “Where is Sasha?”
“Why ask me? Should I cook supper or go look for him?”
“Fix supper. Fool will soon return. Of this, I am sure, for Sasha is hungry.”
Doc pointed to the monitor as he watched Jake move down the stairs toward the door to the interior of the home.
“Looks like you can use the cameras to coordinate your entry,” Licia said as she waved at the overhead camera.
Jake smiled and waved back. He held up his hand and counted down with his fingers as he mouthed the words. “Three, two, one, go.”
Pyotr reacted to the sound of a door crashing open and rushed into the kitchen. He grabbed Mary to use as a shield.
Mary dropped the spatula she was using to turn hamburger patties in a large cast iron skillet and froze. She thought about trying to use the skillet as a weapon but he held her too tightly to reach it.
Pyotr put the barrel of his weapon to her head and pulled her into a corner. “What is noise, old woman?” “I’m really getting tired of you calling me ‘old woman.’ Do you want me to go check?”
“No, funny old woman, we wait to see.”
Doc burst into the room seconds later and brought his pistol up to a firing position.
“No, don’t shoot,” Mary screamed.
Doc stopped dead in his tracks and looked back and forth from Mary to Pyotr. “Let her go.”
“No, leave now, or I kill her.”
“Not going to happen, Slick,” Doc said in the calmest voice he could muster. I hope he can’t see my
hands shaking.
This was like the time a bear cub and mother wandered into Doc’s camp while he was elk hunting. Patience saved him then, but waving his arms around to look bigger as he backed away may have helped. It could work in this situation.
“My house…my wife. Drop your weapon now and give up, or they’ll carry you out feet first. You’re on
your own and trapped.”
“Not true, partner returns soon.”
Jake stepped up next to Doc. “Good, it will be easier to arrest both of you. Oh, wait, I already took
Sasha down. You’re next, then on to prison.”
“Not to American prison…I hear stories. Is better I die here.”
“Your choice,” Jake replied while he swayed from side to side, looking for a good shooting angle.
Pyotr also shifted back and forth to keep the two men from zeroing in on him.
Jake had to take charge before the untrained citizen next to him made a costly mistake. He moved toward the veterinarian, forcing him to move away. The new angle made a clear shot nearly impossible for the vet.
Doc watched as the intruder showed increased anxiety with furtive looks and fidgeting. Trapped animals are the most dangerous, and Mary could be shot by accident if they rushed her captor. Let Jake do his job.
“This is not the way to get what you want,” Doc said. “Lower your weapon so we can sit down with a cup of coffee and talk.”
“Are you crazy, old man? Your partner will kill me first chance he gets.”
“He’s not my partner. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Is not important.”
“I have to call you something.”
“Okay, old man, I am Pyotr.”
“And I’m Doc….”
“A real doctor?”
“Man, I even get that from the bad guys. Look, you’ll only make it worse for yourself if people get hurt. The most likely charge against you right now is kidnapping, and since you haven’t left the house, that could go away.”
“Then I face wrath of Bocc. He does not forgive mistakes.”
Jake broke in. “Not a problem, we can protect you.”
“Nyet, is not possible. Bocc has eyes everywhere.
He will find me and skin me alive. I have seen it.”
“Maybe overseas, but not in the US”
“Have you not heard of Gregori Yancy? I will die only after hours of pain. Situation is hopeless.”
“There’s always hope,” Jake replied. “We can sit down and go over your choices, one at a time.”
“You will trick me…is better I die now.”
“It’s the last thing I want. You can leave here unharmed if you listen to me.” A few more steps and I can take him.
Doc saw what Jake was doing and drew Pyotr’s attention to himself. “Look, Pyotr, my wife and I are innocent bystanders. Please, let us go. Agent Thomas will see to it you’re safe.”
Pyotr held his hands to his head. “Innocent bystanders? Leave in one piece? I am confused. Who is bocc, you or him?”
Jake broke in again, “I am authorized to negotiate with you, and what I say goes.”
Killing Pyotr with a well-placed shot would be easy with Jake’s skills, but he hesitated. The BlackStar Ops Group needed more information about Yancy and his operation. Patience was the key.
Jake ran a dozen tactical solutions through his mind. He was an excellent pistol shot, even at moving targets. Still, could he put a round through the terrorist’s hand and knock the weapon away from Mary’s head before Pyotr jerked the trigger?
There was no surface Jake could use to steady his hands. He would need a solid firing stance for the risky shot. Should he use the laser sight mounted on his weapon? It would be more accurate but might give away his shot. Pyotr could flinch and pull the trigger. Jake would use iron sights and rely on his marksmanship skills.
Pyotr swayed back toward Jake and left most of his left side open. His right hand held the pistol against
Mary’s head and left an unhindered view. Jake slowly exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The weapon bucked, and a .45ACP round sliced through Pyotr’s hand.
Pyotr screamed in pain as his weapon clattered against the cabinet door, hit the countertop with a thud and bounced away. He reached down for the pistol with his left hand, but froze when Jake’s steady voice pierced the sound of the gunshot and Mary’s scream.
“Next round goes through your head.”
Pyotr’s eyes darted from Jake to Doc as he calculated the odds of overcoming both of them. The thought of life in prison flashed through his mind, and he again reached for the pistol.
Mary’s elbow smashed into his face. She spun around, flung the cupboard door open and retrieved her pistol. She cocked it and pointed it at the man who was bleeding on her countertop. “Freeze, you rotten….”
Mary blocked Jake’s view of Pyotr, and he moved sideways for a better angle.
“Please, don’t shoot,” Jake said. “He has information we need.”
“I don’t care,” Mary said through gritted teeth. “Nobody comes into my house and threatens me. He’s going to die right here and now.”
“He’ll spend the rest of his life behind bars, but first, he needs to tell us about the smuggling operation he’s part of.”
“Smuggling? That’s what this is all about?”
“No, they’re involved in a lot of other things.”
“Like what?”
“Can’t tell you…national security.”
“Which is what the government says when it wants to cover up its mistakes.”
“Trust me, tens of millions of lives are at stake, including ours.”
Doc stepped forward and gently pulled Mary to him. “Come on, babe,” he softly whispered in her ear. “Let him do his job. Besides, you don’t want more blood all over your counter, do you?”
A quick smile flitted across Mary’s face. “No, I guess not.” She held Doc closer, and they moved away from the corner.
Jake gently slid the pistol out of Mary’s hands.
Pyotr saw an opportunity and reached for the weapon on the floor.
Jake’s elbow smashed into the base of the Russian’s neck, and he slid to the floor in an unconscious heap. “See? You take the perp out of the action fast with a swift strike to a strategic point on the body.”
Mary offered a weak smile, “I’ll try to remember the next time Russian smugglers break in.”
Jake grinned. “Is there a telephone I could use? My radio doesn’t seem to work in here. Haven’t been able to contact Joanna.”
“There’s a phone in my office where you can have privacy,” Doc said. “I imagine you need to check in with your people.”
“Sure do, but let me handcuff this hombre first.”
Jake joined the gathering in the kitchen after twenty minutes of talk with the NSA Command Center, and Licia threw her arms around his neck. “Doc brought us here in a hidden tunnel. Are you okay?” She pointed to a bloodstain on his jacket.
“Not mine, and yes, I’m okay. How about you two?”
“We’re good. Star needs help, which is on the way, thanks to Doc and his alarm system.”
Pyotr sat on the floor with his hands secured behind him.
Jake made eye-contact with everybody in the room in turn. “Anybody know where Joanna is?”
Downcast eyes and blank stares told him they didn’t, so he continued, “An NSA Forensics team is on the way from Denver to document the scene and assist local people in their investigation. Another unit from FE Warren should be here before them to search for the rest of the attackers. There may be one or two strays.”
A squawk from Pyotr’s belt interrupted Jake. Pyotr wanted to answer, but the handcuffs stopped him from reaching the radio.
Jake retrieved the radio and pressed the mike button. “Who is this?”
It took a moment for the voice at the other end to speak in heavily-accented Russian. “I don’t speak much Russian,” Jake replied.
>
A different voice came back in stilted English.
“Who is this, and where are my men?”
“They’re tied up. Who are you?”
“Is no concern of yours. You are Jake Thomas, yes?”
“Who says?”
“Your girlfriend.”
If they harm one hair on her head…. “What do you want?”
“Two girls you have.”
“Girls?”
“Do not toy with me, Jake Thomas, or I will kill your girlfriend this very minute.”
“She’s not my….never mind. What about your men? I suppose you want them, too.”
“If it is convenient….”
Pyotr reacted to the indifferent remark by blurting out, “Bocc, we need help.”
Jake smiled. At least he was dealing with a person higher up the food chain. “You are Gregori Yancy?”
“Yes. I have Joanna Davies, you have girls. We make trade.”
“I can’t give up innocent civilians.”
“Then I give your woman to my men for amusement. It will be very unpleasant, I assure you. She dies only after much pain and suffering. So, we trade, yes? Give me answer in one hour.” A burst of static signaled an end to the conversation.
Jake stood silently while the other people in the room peppered him with questions. It sounded like their voices came through wet cotton. A torrent of emotions flooded his mind as he thought of the things the Russians might do to Joanna.
He shook his head to clear it, and addressed the group, “I’m not a genius, and I’m not a superhero. But I know what has to be done, and I won’t stop until I’ve rescued Joanna.”
Licia touched his arm and softly said, “You are my superhero, and I know you’ll get her back. May God have mercy on Yancy and his crew if they hurt her.”
Jake spent the next hour interrogating Pyotr and Sasha using techniques he learned during a temporary assignment with the CIA. He contacted NSA headquarters to ask Bart Winfield how he wanted him to wrap up the mission and was on hold for twenty minutes before John Banner answered.
“Bart’s not available, and may not be for quite a while, so fill me in on what’s happening at your end. I thought the ski weekend was supposed to be a lightweight thing.”
