by Glen Robins
“You’re bluffing,” snorted the senator.
“Am I? You want to gamble on that?”
“You know nothing, you American fool. I am good friends with General Aguilar. We spoke earlier today and I can assure you he knows nothing about what will soon transpire.”
“How sure are you that he knows nothing?”
“Even if he knows, it’s too late. The wheels have been set in motion already. There is a new world order coming online as we speak. Your American and British banks have been disabled as we have caused your currencies to collapse under the weight of your enormous debts. We have seen to it that our friends in China will be calling the loans they have issued because they know the United States and its allies are no longer suitable risks.
“By morning, the flow of money will have ceased. By the end of the day, businesses will choke due to their inability to pay for the goods and services they require because the credit markets will have dried up. American consumers will be unable to access money in their accounts. Their debit cards and credit cards will be useless because their accounts will have evaporated in a vain attempt by the banks to repay what they owe. And, because nobody carries cash anymore, the average family will shortly lose the ability to make even the simplest of purchases. Within a week, your entire system will be irreparably crippled and begging for relief. But who will loan money to a bankrupt country? Chaos will ensue and your murder rates will soar even higher than they already are. Your people will be turned into savages who will kill for a meal.”
Crabtree listened patiently. When the senator stopped for a breath, he interjected, “Hmm. Maybe you missed out on that little power glitch earlier. Yeah, that was us throwing a wet towel over your system, so to speak, and rerouting all activity. Did you not realize that your systems have been completely shadowed and contained for the past several hours?”
Torres halted, visibly stymied. His face, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight shining in through the missing window, appeared to grow pale. Anger and uncertainty swirled together across his countenance as Crabtree spoke.
“That’s right. There have been some very smart people, both in your Secretariat of Communications and your Federal Ministerial Police, who have been working around the clock with the good folks from our National Security Agency to intercept and contain all communications coming from this building via a cloned Internet environment. Pretty tricky stuff that I couldn’t begin to fully explain. But the end result is that those wheels you referred to are not in motion, at least not out in the real world.”
“Impossible. No one can do that.”
“I admit, I don’t know how it works,” said Reggie. “I just heard something about ‘bots’ and ‘cloning’ and ‘masking.’ That’s all I know. That, and the fact that all of your team’s keystrokes were recorded somewhere so there is also evidence of your malicious intentions. I also heard that at least one of your trusted hackers was pulling double duty and sharing information with our team. That’s how we knew where you were and what you were doing.”
Before Torres could answer, a hail of gunfire erupted and echoed against the hard surfaces in the barren cavity. It came from the stairwell behind Torres, accompanied by screams of pain and shouts of commands in Spanish. Boots clattered against the steel treads of the stairway, drowning out the voices.
Torres ducked for cover, as did several of his soldiers. Others pointed their muzzles toward the clamor, jerking them from side to side, looking for a target. Amid the confusion, one man yanked Penh out of Nic’s grasp while Nic was trying to back him away toward safety. He shoved Nic backward into an aluminum stud, stunning him momentarily. The soldier flicked out a knife and cut the zip ties that bound Penh’s hands. He also waved it in Nic’s direction in warning.
The gunfire stopped, but the pounding of boots didn’t. Dozens of camo-clad soldiers poured into the empty space of the unfinished floor, rifles at the ready, commanding everyone to stay still in two languages. They came from every direction it seemed. Some appeared from the darkness behind them where Penh and Collin had fought. Others came from around the opposite side.
The soldier who had freed Penh took advantage of the confusion and pushed Penh forward down the unfinished hallway and through the framed doorway toward the open window. Penh was trying to say something over the din, but the soldier ignored him, intent on moving Penh toward the only possible escape route. He must have seen the ropes near the opening and expected to use them to escape.
The moment they breached the doorway, something clapped and Penh shrieked in pain. Penh’s leg caught on a hook connected to a cable strung across the threshold at ankle level. He had tripped the wire intended for Collin, the one the wiry Asian guy had rigged. The whirring of rope spinning through pulleys echoed as Penh was yanked to the floor, pulled with such force that the soldier lost his grip on Penh’s arm as he was dragged across the concrete toward the window. The large wooden spool, which had been teetering on the edge, held in place by the tension on the rope, had plunged over the window ledge when Penh tripped the line holding it in place, which then pulled Penh toward the empty window frame. Penh did a swimming motion on his back, trying to find something to hold on to, but there was only dust on the floor. He was picking up speed the closer he got and his flailing became more desperate. Penh contorted his body every which way to increase friction, hoping to slow his slide toward certain death. As his feet approached the lip of the window frame, the tension of the cable around Rob’s wheelchair brought the cable from the back of the chair taut and propelled him and the chair over the edge just ahead of Penh.
Rob’s wheelchair stopped with a jolt just after the back wheels breached the edge. He was facing straight down, held in place by the rope across his midsection and the tape around his ankles and hands, which gripped the armrests with every ounce of energy he had.
At the same time, Penh was pulled upward, dangling upside down by his leg in the center of the empty window frame. His body twisted while terror contorted his face and filled his eyes.
“You fool,” he cursed at the soldier. “This was for Cook.”
The Mexican soldier looked terrified and confused. In Spanish, he pled his innocence and ignorance.
The gunfire had ebbed and the room was now full of soldiers wearing camouflage systematically disarming those wearing their Class B uniforms. Their raised voices replaced the chatter of their rifles and the clamoring of their boots. As the weapons dropped to the floor, Collin ran to the open window and began tugging on the rope that held Rob’s chair in place just over the edge of the precipice.
“Don’t worry, Rob. I’m not going to let you fall,” Collin called out.
Penh continued to twist, but was struggling to reach something. Collin looked to see what it was and noticed two ropes, one white, one black. Each had a loop tied to the end and each was roughly level with his face and just beyond Penh’s grasp as the wind continued to spin him gently in circles. Collin followed the ropes’ paths back into the building with is eyes, but couldn’t see the ends of them. He did notice, however, that the rope attached to Penh’s leg was white and the one attached to Rob’s wheelchair was black. Penh continued to stretch out for the white rope, ignoring the black one that seemed to be more easily accessible.
That’s when he figured it out. If his trap was meant for Collin, he was to be given a choice of whether to save himself or save Rob. Penh must have known the secret and was trying to save himself and allow Rob to plunge to his death. His fingers made contact with the white rope, but he rotated away from it before he was able to grasp it.
Now Collin had a decision to make: let go of Rob’s chair and hope he could reach the rope before Penh caught ahold of it or hold on tight and hope he had the strength to pull Rob back to safety. As he contemplated this choice, a thunderous voice caught his, and everyone in the room’s, attention. That voice rose above the scuffling of moving boots, the muttering voices, and the howling wind, ordering silence. A man stepped into the g
low of the lights from dozens of rifles. He, too, wore a Class B military uniform with the insignia of a general on its shoulders. Torres’s face dropped when he saw him. “Good evening, Senator Torres,” the man said. “What have we here?”
Torres remained silent. His countenance grew cloudy, like he was trying to piece together a puzzle in his mind. “General Aguilar?”
Behind the general, another man crossed the threshold with a pronounced limp, a cane in his right hand. He remained in the general’s shadow, surveying the scene, saying nothing.
The general spoke again. “Senator Torres, you are under arrest for acts of treason against the United Mexican States,” he bellowed in Spanish. Turning to the men on either side of him, he said, “Arrest this man. Arrest all of these traitors.”
Torres tried to say something, but words seemed to fail him as General Aguilar quickly took control of the situation, unceremoniously overthrowing months of meticulous planning and coordination. In that instant, Torres’s dreams and ambitions blew up and left him unable to speak.
While General Aguilar’s loyalist forces rounded up the treasonous followers of Torres and Penh, the man with the cane stepped out of the shadows and limped toward the open window.
Penh’s eyes widened and his mouth opened when he saw the man’s face with its steely grin and piercing blue eyes. “You? How did you . . .”
“It’s been a long time, Penh,” he said in his soft, Germanic accent. “I’ve waited for this moment all these years, patiently tracking your moves. I always knew you’d follow through with those plans you drew up at MIT.”
“You used your friends for this?” Penh said in disgust.
“No. That was an unfortunate coincidence that set us on an inevitable collision course, I’m afraid,” said Lukas as he continued making his way toward Collin and Rob. “I couldn’t let you do to Collin what you had done to so many other recipients of your insurance company’s settlements. I did my best to hide him and protect him, but you wouldn’t stop searching for him, would you? You couldn’t stand to lose, could you?”
“I should have known . . .” Penh began. Before Lukas reached Collin, Penh lunged with one last desperate effort and grabbed at the looped ropes. Lukas sprang as best he could, jabbing his cane to block Penh’s hand. In the process, his cane whacked the white rope away as it made contact with Penh’s wrist. But there was not enough energy in the jab to halt the wrist’s forward progress. Momentum carried Penh’s hand through its intended motion. Penh’s outstretched fingers wrapped around the black loop toward the apex of his arm’s arc. Then gravity took over. As Penh’s body swung back toward the open window, his hand pulled the loop, releasing the black rope from the spool that was suspended in the air by both the black and white ropes. Rob’s chair suddenly popped upward and inward while Penh’s body was yanked downward by the weight of the dropping spool, his head and shoulder bouncing against the ledge with a sickening crack before free-falling seventy-five floors to the ground below.
The sudden jolt threw Collin off balance as he continued to pull on the handles of the wheelchair, causing him to lose his footing and rotate as he slipped toward the ledge. He landed at an awkward angle on his rear end, losing his grip on the wheelchair, which now had all four wheels on the floor. Momentum propelled him toward the ledge as his body continued to twist. He was on his stomach with his feet plunging over the edge as he continued to slide. His hands tried to find purchase on the grit that covered the floor, but they grasped futilely on the slick surface. His momentum was working against him, carrying his lower body over the edge at an increasing rate. Panic set in and his efforts became more desperate. As he eyed the fast-approaching end of the concrete floor, he felt a firm hand gripping his forearm. Nic Lancaster, sliding with one leg under him and one leg out to the side, clutched Collin’s arm and prevented him from slipping over the edge. The two wrestled and struggled until Collin was back safely inside the building.
Spinner McCoy first lunged forward and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, pulling Rob backward toward safety, then aided Nic and Collin. Reggie Crabtree clasped Lukas by the arm to secure him.
Rob grimaced and shook his head. His jaw rattled with cold and fear. His hands still gripped the armrests so hard they were completely white, the tendons popping above the skin with the strain.
Collin and Nic sidled up to the ledge on hands and knees and looked over, morbid curiosity getting the best of them. Penh’s grotesquely disfigured body lay splayed out on the concrete hundreds of feet below, a dark pool growing around it. Fragments of the wooden spool lay in a circular pattern around the gore. Nic and Collin, strangers up to this point, embraced as the significance of the moment sank in. Collin thanked the man who, unbeknownst to him, had hunted him like an animal and cursed him repeatedly during the past several weeks. Nic, in typical British fashion, shrugged off the thanks and pointed to Lukas as the one who deserved the credit.
Collin then turned his focus to his lifelong friend. After cutting his ankles free, Collin expected Rob to stand so he could embrace him, but Rob couldn’t do it. After nearly twenty-one hours strapped to the wheelchair, his legs were numb. He also shook uncontrollably. Collin, still on his knees, wrapped him up in a brotherly embrace. Lukas bent toward him from the other side and joined in. They stayed like that until one of General Aguilar’s officers brought a warm coat for Rob and suggested they get him medical attention.
Chapter Thirty-Five
First Floor, Unfinished Office Building, Mexico City, Mexico
June 19, 1:04 a.m. Local Time
The three friends sat on a postmodern black leather sofa in the lobby, the only space in the building that resembled anything close to being finished. Across from them, Agents Crabtree, McCoy, and Lancaster listened in. The floor had been tiled in gray granite with shiny black accents forming a stylish pattern. A bank of bluish-white LED lights, angled from mounts two-stories high on the wall, pointed at the fountains in the center of the foyer and gave an otherworldly, ultra-modern glow to the otherwise empty space. A small stream, lined with smooth, black rocks the size of a fist ran through the middle of the open-design, forty-foot-ceilinged first floor. The babbling water brought a peaceful ambiance that echoed throughout the entire bottom story.
Rob, who had been given medical attention, sat rigidly between Lukas and Collin—bandaged and bruised, but smiling. He was wrapped in a blanket, but still wore the suit his Asian captures had put on him, bloodstains on the shirt and lapel.
Lukas explained to the group of curious participants the unprecedented level of cooperation and coordination between the US and Mexico that had taken place over the past several months. He talked about how difficult it had been to convince General Aguilar of his friend’s treacherous designs and to get him to fully cooperate. Fortunately, one of Aguilar’s most trusted subordinates had caught wind of something fishy in Senator Torres’s office during a series of routine meetings earlier in the year. That subordinate struck up a romantic relationship with Torres’s aide and soon “joined” Torres’s “cause.”
“So it was just by luck that Torres got caught and this thing got stopped?” Nic Lancaster said.
“Not exactly,” Lukas explained. “Beyond all of the evidence the NSA had gathered and presented, there were others who had heard some grumblings and whisperings. There was plenty of suspicion around Torres, but no one wanted to act on it. He’s a national hero, you see. But once Aguilar’s aide got in tight with his movement and began feeding information to his boss, people started to believe what I had been telling them. A small group within Mexico’s Center for Research and National Security and I began to cooperate a month or two ago. It’s been an uphill battle for support and resources, but finally, they came through.”
“Not a moment too soon, from what I gather,” added Reggie.
“You’re absolutely right. The last thing anyone wants is to be wrong in a situation like this,” said Lukas. “I have to commend all the guys I’ve worked with the
se past few weeks. Butch and his team were invaluable during this whole operation, from beginning to end. They not only provided tactical support, as you saw, they also provided intelligence, including names and locations and details we needed.”
“Why did Collin get involved in this whole thing?” asked Crabtree.
“Bad luck, really,” said Lukas. “Penh approached Torres about two years ago, knowing of his anti-American sentiments and his secret desire to radicalize the Mexican government and ‘reestablish the Aztec empire.’ Penh enlarged his vision and emboldened him, feeding him cash and technological expertise to help him toward his goal.”
“But Collin had nothing to do with any of that,” Rob said.
“Yes, that’s true,” said Lukas. “But you know I’ve kept an eye on Penh ever since I met him at MIT. I knew he was up to no good from the time I first heard him talk in closed, invitation-only meetings. He had a subsurface hatred that, combined with his genius and power of persuasion, was volatile. He was like a powder keg with a fuse that had been lit. It was only a matter of time before he blew. Collin entered the scene as Penh was amassing wealth and building his infrastructure. One of his more or less legitimate companies was the insurance company that had to pay out after the accident.
“After settling with Collin’s lawyer, who wound up dead, by the way, Penh felt the need to ‘put Collin in his place’ after he disappeared in order to show his team and Torres that he couldn’t be bested. In the Asian culture, you lose face when you can’t overcome obstacles that should be easy to overcome. See, that thirty million represents the largest settlement ever won against Pacific Casualty Insurance. And it didn’t sit well with Penh, not while he was trying to pay for all of this collaboration,” Lukas said, waving a hand. “Also, I think that since the RBS thing in May, he has not had access to working capital like he did previously. He needed Collin’s money to pay Torres and his mercenaries. Add to that the fact that Collin was this ordinary guy that kept getting away was like a burr under his saddle.”
