by Ty Patterson
They had responsibilities, he said. Shuren ran the center in Indonesia. He had personally selected Zhen to manage it, and the two had made Keling the fall guy.
‘He knew that gangster very well. There was history between them. I looked after the US centers.’
‘Colorado and Nevada? Content and List US?’ Beth asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Why you?’
‘Because I have substantial contacts here. A very good network. Our country invests a lot in your country. This ranch…’ he looked around. ‘It’s owned by a Saudi Arabian investment company, affiliated with my government.’
‘Hidden by a shell company trail, no doubt,’ Beth said, bitterly.
‘That’s how it works in my world. It’s the same case with the Nevada center. That power plant is an inactive one. It’s a small one compared to the others in the desert but it fell into operational problems and we had to shut it.’
‘How many men, there?’ Zeb asked impatiently. That DC attack’s happening in less than forty-eight hours. We don’t have much time if we have to take out Yefremov and stop those shooters.
‘There’s no one in the plant. There’s a house behind it where the Content team is based. Yefremov is there. Same number as here. Eighteen. Boris Voronoff, leads the men. All of them are Russian. Ex-Spetsnaz. The men here, they too are Russian. Yefremov supplied them as well as the programmers. I provided the money and the US locations, and Shuren, it was his plan and without him…’
He trailed off. Without China, this wouldn’t have gotten off the ground, Zeb thought.
‘Where’s Shuren?’
‘Somewhere in Hong Kong.’
‘There?’ Zeb asked surprised. ‘Not in Beijing?’
‘No. He’s masquerading as a businessman.’
‘Where in Hong Kong?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, a pleading look on his face. ‘Yefremov will know. The two of them have known each other for longer than I’ve known them.’
He could be right, Zeb considered. Of the three, Ahmed’s the most expendable. Shuren and Yefremov could always find another moneyman.
They wrung Ahmed dry until he had nothing more to give them.
‘Rest,’ Zeb told his team at five am. ‘We’ll regroup in two hours.’
‘But-’ Beth began, waving her screen. She and her sister had been interrogating the engineers, poring over the programs they had written.
‘Sleep,’ Zeb repeated in a tone that brooked no argument.
They got the surviving gangsters to move the bodies to a building at the rear of the house and then split up. The sisters occupied a room. Bear and Chloe, another. Zeb and the others jogged back to where their vehicles were parked and drove them back.
Zeb made two calls and then slept in his SUV, out at the front of the ranch house, underneath a dawning sky. He stirred when his watch alerted him to the time. Woke up swiftly and rubbed his eyes. Shadows on the ground as the rising sun cast its rays on the ranch. He took a few moments to breathe lungfuls of fresh air and was struck by the silence around them.
We used to go camping in places like this. Where there was no one but us. My wife, my son and me. My world.
His thoughts were interrupted by a poke to his ribs. A hand came in front of him, holding a coffee mug. ‘Rise and shine,’ Beth said smugly. Meghan beside her. Both of them looking well-rested.
* * *
Zeb sipped his drink, its strength and warmth waking his body up. By the time he entered the building, Beth and Meghan were on their screens. They had dragged a table to the center of the arc. Had rustled up a printer and several maps were spread out in front of them. The remaining operatives were looking over their shoulders.
‘This,’ Beth looked up when he joined them, ‘is where the Nevada center is.’
He looked at where her finger was pointing. A cross mark on the map.
In the Mojave Desert.
Chapter Ninety
The Mojave Desert, about forty-eight thousand square miles, was in southeastern California and a part of it spilled over into southern Nevada. Small portions extended in Utah and Arizona too. Temperatures often exceeded one hundred and twenty degrees and the region received less than two inches of rain a year.
The desert was home to Death Valley, one of the most hostile regions in the US. It was a desert valley, almost three hundred feet below sea level and had salt pans that extended as far as the eye could see. A hauntingly beautiful, barren land that put human life in perspective.
Despite the extremes of weather, the desert was a popular tourist spot. Its sparse, vast scenery and the various national parks in the region, drew millions of visitors each year.
Yefremov wasn’t based anywhere travelers went.
‘Nevada Evergreen is a private power station,’ Beth explained briefly. ‘As Ahmed said, it’s ultimately owned by a Saudi investment company, but not many people know of it. Boulder City to the north of it. The Nevada California border about thirty miles to the west of it. Spread across three hundred acres.’
She placed her screen on the table and flicked through several photographs. Arrays of solar panels. A barbed wire fence running all around. Corrugated buildings, very similar to other solar plants in the desert.
‘And this is where Yefremov’s holed up,’ she said and brought up another image. A white-walled, concrete building. Looking to be about three floors high. ‘It’s on the power plant grounds but well away from the solar panels.’
Her finger flicked; a map came up. ‘Here,’ she indicated the building to the south-east of the plant. ‘This is where the building is. Ahmed said it was constructed to house the construction workers and when the plant became non-operational, it became empty. Great location for Yefremov.’
Unrestricted view all around, Zeb agreed. That one road over there, any vehicle on it will be spotted.
It was well-away from any tourist track. Visitors were discouraged by the power plant’s signboards.
‘How do we attack a place like that?’ Roger frowned.
Before anyone could reply, sounds of several vehicles drawing up.
‘We expecting visitors?’ Bear reached for his gun.
‘Broker,’ Zeb said. ‘Can you get the door?’
He put on a wooden expression as his friends looked at him, puzzled. ‘Broker,’ he repeated. ‘The door.’
‘Why does the oldest guy get to be the doorman,’ his friend grumbled, but went to the entrance.
He opened it and stared in shock at the visitors.
Chapter Ninety-One
Sarah Burke, FBI Special Agent in Charge, fast-rising star in that organization, Broker’s girlfriend, strode inside, imperiously. Behind her, a bunch of SWAT operators, decked out for combat.
Blonde-haired, green-eyed, an icy expression on her face, she stabbed her boyfriend in the chest with her finger.
‘You,’ she said softly, ominously, ‘left without telling me where you were going. You didn’t keep in touch. You didn’t think I would be worried?’
Broker, one of the most lethal men in the world, swallowed. He looked to his right and glowered at Zeb who maintained a wooden expression. Bwana, Bear, Roger, the sisters, Chloe…they were looking on with interest. Not just interest, delight.
‘A mission,’ he stammered when she poked him again. ‘You know how it is.’
‘I. Don’t.Know. How.It. Is,’ she hissed. ‘I call you every night when I am away. You can’t do the same?’
‘It’s Zeb’s fault,’ Broker drew himself up, righteously. ‘He said radio silence.’
‘He said no such thing. He called me this morning and told me where y’all were. I gave him an earful, but he said he didn’t tell you to go quiet. You are in trouble. Big trouble.’
Broker grinned suddenly. ‘That sounds like…something to look forward to. When we’re alone.’
A reluctant smile broke her face before her professional mask descended. Despite her apparent anger, Burke knew there were reasons why
her boyfriend had disappeared. She was aware that he worked at the Agency. She had an idea of what it did and understood why he didn’t tell her everything. She was FBI. He was in a covert-ops outfit that had loose definitions of what the laws of the land meant.
‘Where’s Riyaz Khalid Ahmed?’ she asked.
* * *
‘You should have told me she was coming,’ Broker hissed at Zeb as he led the new arrivals to where their captive was held.
‘What, and miss the fun?’ Beth gloated.
* * *
An hour later, the FBI agents had taken over the ranch. They set up their command center, protocols and started identifying the dead and the alive. Interrogating the survivors would come later.
‘We’ll share everything we’ve got so far,’ Meghan told Burke, who pursed her lips and glanced at the maps on the table.
‘Going somewhere?’
‘Yeah. To the Mojave Desert.
‘What’s the plan?’ the SAC asked when the elder twin brought her up to speed on the findings. ‘I can make a few calls. Call off that protest.’
‘No,’ Zeb replied. ‘Yefremov and Shuren might get wind of it. We’ll have to stop those killers before they act.’
‘You don’t know who they are, or where they’ll be.’
‘We’ll find out,’ Zeb promised, grimly.
‘Zeb,’ Burke said, impatiently. ‘You’re going to attack a building in the desert. You know nothing of it other than what Ahmed’s told you. For all you know, he might be lying. He said there are eighteen men there? There could be eighty.’
‘That’s what we’ve been telling him,’ Chloe complained. ‘But you know how he is. He’s got that look on his face.’
‘Tell us, Zeb,’ Beth burst out. ‘What’s your grand plan?’
Zeb tapped a spot on the map. ‘That’s Edwards Air Force Base?’
‘Yeah, so what?’ Meghan said impatiently. ‘That’s in California.’
‘Correct. But they frequently fly over the Mojave Desert. Often at low altitudes. They test new systems, new aircraft, all that stuff.’
Beth made to speak, kept quiet when her sister stopped her.
‘They don’t bomb buildings, Zeb,’ Meghan said sarcastically, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking of.’
‘Can you get a Lockheed C-5 Galaxy?’
She looked at him long and consideringly. ‘The military transport aircraft? Sure, once I make some calls.’
‘And two Jeeps. Or any old vehicles. Fitted with remote controlled explosives, or some kind of timers, or triggered by altitude.’
‘Tell us the plan,’ Bear thumped a meaty fist on the table making them jump.
‘Ahmed told us this building is separate from the power plant.’
‘Yeah.’
‘And that it’s got its own access road, fence, cameras, the works.’
‘Correct.’
‘Yefremov will be monitoring the sky for drones, so we can’t do aerial recon.’
‘You’re thinking that Galaxy will do that for us?’
‘No. This is what we’ll do.’
And Zeb told them his plan.
Chapter Ninety-Two
‘You got to be kidding!’ Bwana exclaimed, but it was in admiration. ‘It might work. Just might.’
Heads nodded around the table. Zeb’s idea, like the attacks in Ukraine and Indonesia, relied on distraction and surprise. Vital elements when going up against a force they knew nothing about.
Burke frowned after a moment. ‘That might work. But won’t he be expecting that the Europe program is activated. That, as a result, there will be more killings?’
‘Yeah.’ Zeb glanced at his watch and nodded at Beth. ‘Can you bring up a news channel?’
She typed a website, one that had live-video of its news reports.
A grim-faced host. A scrolling banner at the bottom.
Unconfirmed reports that there have been more shootings in Berlin, Paris and London in the night. A gunman in a nightclub in Britain, a shooter at a train station in Germany and another gunman on the Champs Elysees.
The police are tight-lipped in those cities. The British Prime Minister has made no comment. The French President and German Chancellor have stonewalled all requests for confirmation. The US State Department has said it has no information. However, social media is abuzz with news of these shootings. There are also videos, but we have to state there’s no official confirmation on these killings.
The video cut to a talking head who postulated that the three governments had deliberately suppressed the news. ‘It’s understandable,’ he said. ‘Few governments will want to admit that they’ve failed in preventing such shootings. I predict more protests and riots in those countries. In fact, around the world.’
‘That’s your doing?’ Burke asked, shocked. ‘I heard the news when I was coming over. It’s not true?’
‘No,’ Zeb replied. ‘Clare and the National Security Advisor have been busy. They’ve been calling in favors in various countries. This is fake news, designed to convince Yefremov and Shuren that Ahmed has gotten the Europe program working.’
‘The riots, the protests that follow, like that dude said,’ Meghan looked troubled, ‘those will be real.’
‘Yes, and those cities are on alert. Hopefully the damage will be limited. But there was no other way. Not without alerting Yefremov and Shuren. However, we need to attack Yefremov tonight.’
‘We’ll get that plane. And those vehicles,’ she said, her face pinched.
‘Can you,’ Zeb looked at Burke, ‘arrange for Burt and Pilgrim to get back to Denver?’
‘Sure –’
‘About that,’ Burt shuffled his feet. He and his coworker had been listening in silence throughout the morning. ‘Zack and I’ve been talking about this. Maybe we could help?’
‘How?’ Zeb demanded.
‘Well, we checked the dogs. We lost six in the attack, but the remaining ones are in good condition. Your plan needs surprise. They can add to that.’
Zeb thought swiftly and then nodded. ‘This will be even more dangerous,’ he warned.
‘We eat danger for breakfast,’ Burt scoffed and doubled over in mock-agony when Bear thumped his back.
‘Alright,’ Zeb turned to his friends. ‘Let’s go to the airforce base. We take out Yefremov tonight.’
Chapter Ninety-Three
Sidor Yefremov was in good spirits when he woke up in Nevada. The sun was bright, the air was clear, the sky was blue. The breaking news from London, Paris and Berlin was uplifting. There was nothing to mar his disposition.
He checked in with Voronoff, inspected the engineers who smiled wanly when he greeted them. ‘This’ll be over soon,’ he boomed at them. ‘Y’all can go home, then. And spend your bonus checks.’
He hid a smile when one of them cheered weakly. Bonus! That would be a bullet in the back of their heads.
He went to the panic room which was in the basement of the house. It was a bomb-proof room that had been constructed when the Content team had been housed there. It was connected to the outside world through high-speed internet cables. Satellite phone coverage. Passcode entry backed up by thumb print and iris scan security. Screens that monitored the perimeter of the building as well as the road to the building.
There was a separate control room that Voronoff’s men occupied on the ground floor. Yefremov could communicate with it via a video screen. No one else entered his panic room. Not even Ahmed the few times he visited. The Russian liked it. It was where he slept. It had enough provisions in it to last him months.
‘I’ll be down,’ he told Voronoff who nodded.
Yefremov waited till the man had turned away and then entered his code. He pressed his thumb against the screen and looked at the lens. The door slid back silently to a short flight of stairs. Another door which had another passcode entry.
He entered the spacious room. Two rooms in reality. One was where his screens, his communication and security setup were mount
ed. It also had his bed and against the wall was a refrigerator, a cooking oven and a sink. The second room was a bathroom.
Yefremov sank into a leather chair and wheeled it to the bank of monitors. He flicked from screen to screen. The engineers in their room, Voronoff lounging against a wall, smoking, chatting to some of his men. The spymaster sighed in delight. He punched a number on his satellite phone and waited for Ahmed to pick up.
‘My friend,’ he greeted the Saudi when he answered. ‘You got List Europe working! You saw the news?’
‘Yes,’ Ahmed winced when Burke prodded him savagely with her gun. ‘I also bought some more stock.’
‘I did too. Listen, about this DC protest,’ he brought up a web page and read it swiftly. ‘The marchers will gather at ten am in front of the White House. I think our shooters should open up at one pm. It will be peak crowd. There will be TV cameras, reporters. It will be prime time.’
‘Good idea. Who are the gunmen?’
‘Oh, I’ve got a few,’ Yefremov replied evasively.
The Saudi turned querulous. ‘This is what I don’t like about you and Shuren. You two keep details from me. I am as much a part of Hyde as you are.’
That’s because you bring the least value to the table, the Russian thought. ‘You know everything, Ahmed. What have we hidden from you?’
‘ARE YOU TELLING ME WHO THE SHOOTERS ARE? WHERE THEY WILL BE? SHUREN HASN’T TOLD ME WHERE HE’S BASED. YOU KNOW IT, BUT YOU NEVER TOOK ME INTO YOUR CONFIDENCE.’
Yefremov winced at the outburst. ‘This is normal need-to-know mission protocol, Ahmed. You have run enough operations. You should know.’
There was a taunt in his words. The Saudi was a good spymaster but he wasn’t in the same caliber as the Russian or Shuren. He and his country got lucky, Yefremov snorted. If there hadn’t been oil beneath their desert, where would they be?
