by Ken Fite
“Blake, I’m approaching the building,” Chris said in my ear. “I need to know how many hostiles there are.”
“Four,” I said. The guy named Jackson furrowed his brow. He cocked his head to one side and stared. “There’s four of you and one of me.” I looked around at each of the men in turn. “I don’t like those odds.”
“Mr. Gaines,” he said, calling me the name of the man Willis had killed, “I’m not expecting there to be a problem here, are you?”
I said nothing. Just shook my head again and wondered where this was going. “Walk me through it,” I said. “I give you the money and the passports and then what?”
“Then I hold up my side of the bargain. I give you what you’re paying me for.”
Silence in the room. “Show me,” I said.
The man studied me again. Then he turned his head and nodded to one of his men. The guy nodded back and disappeared into the dark. I glanced back and kept my eyes on the man named Jackson. He smiled. Then I heard what sounded like faint sobbing coming from where Jackson’s man had gone to. A few seconds later, he reappeared, holding a fistful of hair in his hand and pushing a girl out of a back room. She was just a child. Maybe eight or nine years old. Just a little younger than Matthew. She was frightened. She stared across at me as the guy pushed her forward and stood next to Jackson and waited.
“You give me the briefcase; I give you the girl. Ten grand, like we discussed.”
“Explain,” I said.
Jackson shrugged. “That shouldn’t be necessary, Mr. Gaines.” He looked over to the girl. She was shaking. Her eyes were adjusting to the light just like mine were. She just stood there, held by Jackson’s man, sobbing. “You give us the money and the passports, and you get the girl. You can do with her as you wish.”
“What about her father?” I asked, taking a chance.
“What about him?”
“Will he be a problem?”
Jackson shook his head. “He’ll be taken care of soon enough,” he said. “As soon as his job’s done.”
I nodded like I knew what he was talking about. I heard three beeps in my earpiece—the call dropped. I realized Chris was making his approach and wouldn’t be hearing my end of what was happening now. The girl sobbed some more, and Jackson looked me over, then lowered his gaze and stared at the briefcase. Four against one. The odds would’ve been okay before I knew about the girl. Sweat was forming on my brow. It streamed down my face, and I wiped it with my sleeve. I glanced right. The girl was staring at me.
“Are we doing this?” asked Jackson.
I nodded, wondering who the little girl’s father was. I thought about Gaines, the guy Willis killed earlier. The guy I was impersonating. I wondered how he’d found out about the apartment and who’d sent him. Because it wasn’t Jackson. I wondered what he was doing there if he already had the money. None of it made sense to me, but I’d have to deal with that later. Right now, I had to save the girl somehow.
“Let’s get this over with,” said Jackson. “Then you should get out of DC if you know what’s good for you.” The man glanced back at the girl again. “We know what she’s worth, Mr. Gaines. Ten grand is a discount. You will get much more for her.” He turned back. “And if there are any problems with the passports—”
“There won’t be,” I said.
“So let’s do this,” he said. “Ten grand gets you the girl. And what you do with her is on you. Understood?”
I nodded again.
The man behind me stepped to my side. He held his hand out. Another bead of sweat streamed down my face and I wiped it away. I couldn’t delay any more, waiting for Chris to show up. This was going down now. I handed the briefcase over to the guy. He took it from me and turned and handed it over to Jackson.
Jackson kept his eyes on me for a second; then he glanced back down at the briefcase. He stepped over to a table. Set it on top and placed his thumbs on the latches. Then I heard loud shouts from behind me.
Jackson stepped away from the briefcase. He looked past his three men, past me, and stared into the dark.
I glanced back. Saw no one. There were more shouts. Someone barking orders in a loud voice. When I turned back again, I saw Jackson and his men draw their weapons. The girl just kept staring at me.
I turned back and saw Chris Reed step out of the shadows slowly with his hands raised high into the air.
THIRTY-FIVE
THERE HAD BEEN a fifth man. I watched as he led my friend forward. Chris stood motionless as Jackson stepped around the table and looked him over.
“Who is he?” asked Jackson.
“Found FBI credentials on him,” said the fifth guy as he stood behind Chris with a gun to his head.
Jackson glanced back at me. “Thought you said you weren’t followed.”
I said nothing.
Jackson turned back to his man. “We’re running out of time. Just hold him there for now, and we’ll deal with him in a minute.”
The man kept his weapon on Chris as Jackson walked back around the table and stood over the briefcase. He tried to open the latches, but they wouldn’t move. He glanced up at me quickly. “It’s locked.”
“Sorry,” I said, looking down and stepping forward toward the table cautiously. “I’ll open it for you.”
I glanced up and saw Jackson nod to himself. The light from the lanterns was behind me now. It cast a shadow on the briefcase and on Jackson. I heard the guy who’d been behind me step up close. He was maybe three feet behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw his gun was lowered to the ground. His eyes were fixed on Chris Reed off to my right. Reed was staring. I turned back. The girl was staring, too.
“Hurry up,” said Jackson.
I nodded. Grabbed hold of the briefcase and turned it around to face me. Lifted it up so I could see the numbers better. Closed my eyes briefly. Opened them up and saw the girl get down on her knees, scared. Looked back at the lock and slowly rolled the numbers on the left, one by one. Then I did the same on the right. I lowered the briefcase back onto the table. Put my thumbs on each of the locks and pulled outward.
The latches flipped open simultaneously. I lifted the briefcase open and reached in for a wad of cash. Handed it to the guy named Jackson. He grabbed it instinctively. “It’s all there,” I said. The girl was looking up at me. I stared back at her. “I need you to stay down,” I said and reached inside for my Glock.
I pulled it out fast and shot Jackson. I spun around and shot the man behind me. I put an arm around his body and held him up, using him as a shield as I shot the third guy. The guy behind Chris moved his weapon over to me. Chris grabbed his wrists and pushed upward, and two shots were fired into the ceiling.
I swung my Glock fast and shot the fourth guy as Chris Reed tried to overpower the last hostile.
The man I was holding onto went limp. He was heavy in my arms. I held on as long as I could and backed up behind the table Jackson had been standing behind. I let go and the dead guy crumpled onto the ground as I slid in behind the table and raised my weapon. Chris’s guy had managed to regain control and was holding him at gunpoint. “Drop the weapon!” I yelled as I looked and saw the girl had disappeared.
The guy made no reply. Just kept his body hidden behind Chris and slowly started moving backward.
I fired a shot to the left of them. I saw a chunk of concrete chip away from the wall. “I said drop it!”
He moved a little faster. Walked Chris beyond the lanterns and stepped into the dark, headed for the stairs. “You make a move and your friend dies,” he called. I watched as they both disappeared from view. Five seconds later, a shot was fired. I imagined the guy making it to the stairs and taking out Chris.
“It’s okay,” I heard a familiar voice say from the shadows. “Come on out here, Jordan,” called Willis.
I stood and stepped around the table. Gripped my weapon tight. Reached down and grabbed one of the lanterns as I moved and approached the stairs. Three men came into view. Ch
ris Reed, Curt Willis, and the fifth man sprawled on the floor. I watched Reed kick his gun away and crouch down to check his pulse. We moved back into the main room. Chris checked the other men on the ground. I went to the back room.
“How’d you know where to find us?” I heard Reed ask as I found the girl and cleared the room.
“Only abandoned building off of First I know of,” Willis replied as I rejoined them. Willis was looking at the bodies on the floor. “I couldn’t find anything at the apartment. Thought you could use some help.”
I came back out and helped Chris check the pulse of the others. Found his Beretta and gave it back to him.
Willis glanced around at the dead bodies. Went to each of them and studied their faces. When he was done, he turned to me. “I see you’re catching on.” Willis smiled. “Us or them, right, Jordan?”
I said nothing. Heard the girl sobbing again and carried the lantern around to the back. But when I entered the room, I didn’t see her anywhere. I holstered my Glock and held the lantern and listened. Heard faint sobbing from a nearby desk. I stepped over to it. Crouched down and saw the girl hiding underneath. She’d seen me enter with the weapon when I cleared the room a minute earlier. She must’ve gotten scared. Maybe thought I was a bad guy. I set the lantern down on the floor in front of me. She was hiding under the desk with her arms wrapped tight around her legs and her head buried.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”
The girl stayed motionless. Said nothing, just sobbed quietly.
“My name is Blake. I’m a federal agent—kind of like a policeman,” I added. “What’s your name?”
She said nothing.
“Can you come out for me?”
She kept her head buried and shook it.
Willis came to the door. I turned and glanced back at him over my shoulder. “Who is she?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said and turned back to face the girl.
I heard Chris explain in a low voice how the man I’d been impersonating was supposed to make an exchange. Ten grand and passports for the girl. Chris had come to the same conclusion I had—that Jackson’s boss was Omar Malik. Malik had sent his guy out to get rid of the girl, and Jackson and his men were supposed to bring the cash and passports back to Malik so they could all make it out of the country.
The girl wasn’t moving. I didn’t know what to do. I listened to Willis and Reed continue to talk at the door as I reached into my back pocket and grabbed my phone. I left the lantern on the floor near the girl. Stepped away and dialed a number. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as the call was answered.
“Are you okay?” asked Jami.
I said nothing. Several moments of silence passed. “Blake, what’s wrong?”
I glanced back at the girl. She lifted her head slightly and looked up at me from where she was hiding, then buried her head again and gripped her legs tighter. “Jami, I was wrong,” I said. “I need your help.”
THIRTY-SIX
ROBERT HAYES TYPED in the last few commands necessary to complete the authorization process. A final review of the configuration was completed, and he stared at the laptop screen, thinking about his wife and daughter. He could hear Omar Malik in the next room. The man was agitated about something. Hayes heard him speaking in a language he did not understand. But he understood names. Malik was asking about someone. Maybe asking where they were. Hayes glanced over to the doorway. He wondered what had happened and who the terrorist was asking about. A moment later, Malik stepped back into the room.
“Are you finished?”
Hayes nodded. “It’s done. Now where’s my daughter?”
Malik eyed him for a second. “Safe,” he said. “We’re not done, Mr. Hayes. We’re just getting started.”
Hayes kept his gaze on the man as he stepped closer.
“Have you assumed control of the drones?”
Hayes nodded again.
“Then we need to make sure the military does not take back control. That is the first priority. If we lose control, we have nothing.” Malik paused. “We need to ensure the override device cannot be hacked. Can you put a firewall up to keep them out?”
Hayes shook his head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done something like that. Security standards have changed. I don’t even know where to begin.” He paused. Thought about his wife. Wondered if she was still there or if she’d been taken to another location. “I’m just not sure if it would hold up to today’s standards.”
Malik thought about that as he studied him for a second longer. “I believe you,” he said and dug into a pocket. He came out with a small piece of paper. Malik unfolded it and handed it over. Hayes saw coordinates written on it. “Then we must try something else. Take control of a drone close to these coordinates. Access one with Hellfire missiles. I want you to initiate an airstrike. Take out the building.” Malik paused. He put his finger on the paper and leaned over him. “These exact coordinates, Mr. Hayes.”
“I understand,” he said.
“Do it now.”
He nodded and turned to face the laptop and studied the piece of paper for a few moments. Then Hayes entered in the coordinates to find a Reaper drone with Hellfires mounted on it closest to the location. Hayes stared at the screen, then looked up at Omar Malik. “Nevada,” he said. “Is this what I think it is?”
TOM PARKER WAS at Simon’s desk when he heard his office phone ringing in the distance. He turned and started walking. After two full rings, it stopped, and ten seconds later, his cell buzzed in his pocket.
“Parker,” he said.
“Tom, this is Peter Mulvaney.”
He stopped moving and stood in the middle of the large floor in between Simon’s desk and his office.
“Peter,” he said and pressed the phone against his ear, glancing back at Simon, “what can I do for you?”
“We have a big problem.”
“I know,” said Parker. “We saw the video. I have my guys out in the field looking for Malik right now.”
“It’s more than the video. It’s the implications of the video.”
Parker furrowed his brow. “Explain.”
“My Cyber Division guys just called me. They said the FBI’s drone fleet is offline.” Mulvaney paused. “Are you seeing the same thing on your end?”
Parker turned and went toward Simon’s desk. “I’ll find out right now.”
“You need to,” said Mulvaney. “Because ours are completely unresponsive, in some kind of demonstration mode.”
“Demonstration mode? What does that mean?”
“It means we’re not able to control them anymore. They’re just flying around in default patterns from the manufacturer, evading each other and other aircraft. And they’re not responding to our commands at all.”
Parker got to Simon’s desk and asked if he was still on the phone with Morgan. Simon nodded and pressed the speakerphone button and took off his headset. “Morgan, can you hear me?” asked Parker.
“I can hear you, mate.”
“I’m on with Peter Mulvaney,” said Parker. “He’s telling me the Bureau’s lost control of their Reapers. He’s saying the drones are still airborne, but they’re unresponsive.” Parker stared at his analyst. “Simon, I need you to check if our Homeland drones are still under our control. And, Morgan, I need you to do the same for any DDC drones you guys may have access to. Okay?”
“On it,” said Morgan from the phone.
Simon nodded his understanding. Parker watched as he navigated different screens and started typing. Parker could hear Morgan typing from the phone as well. Mulvaney stayed quiet as Parker kept his cell pressed against his ear and watched in silence, hoping it was just some kind of glitch over at the FBI.
Simon pointed at his screen. “Look,” he said. “They’re in some kind of default mode. All of our Reapers are flying in circular patterns, like they’re waiting on some kind of command. I’ll try to take back control.”
“You get all that?” asked Parker.
Mulvaney said that he did.
“So is this the demonstration?”
Mulvaney said nothing. Simon and Morgan remained silent. Nobody spoke. Then Parker overheard a muffled conversation from Mulvaney’s end of the line. Parker’s blood ran cold as he heard the words being spoken. Mulvaney came back on.
“Tom,” Mulvaney said, “I just received word that the CIA’s lost control of their entire fleet of Reapers.”
Parker’s heart beat fast and his eyes grew wide. “My God,” he said to himself, “America is under attack.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
I SENT CHRIS outside to wait for Jami, and stayed in the room with the girl and the lantern on the floor. Willis was in the other room, alone, checking the dead men’s pockets for anything that might help us. The girl kept her arms wrapped tight around her legs and her face hidden. I tried to make her feel safe. I closed my eyes as I waited for Jami. I remembered the girl staring up at me as the guy named Jackson spoke about her father. Remembered the look on her face as she dropped down to the floor and cowered.
It made me think about Matthew. He was at Blair House with his mom, probably scared and anxious. When I heard Willis at the door, I opened my eyes and glanced over my shoulder and looked up at him.
“Nothing in their pockets,” he said. “Not sure how we can ID them.”
I told him there were passports in the briefcase. Morgan and Simon could try using facial recognition. He went back into the room and disappeared. Twenty minutes passed. The girl didn’t move. Finally, I heard Jami’s voice. She told Chris a Secret Service agent had driven her and dropped her off outside. Willis greeted her. I stood as she came into view and stopped at the door. Jami glanced at me; then she shifted her gaze to the little girl under the desk. Willis and Reed stayed in the other room as I moved to the door.
