Storm Clouds

by Steven Becker

  “Gretchen,” Mako whispered. He caught her eye and she followed his gaze up the stairs. Seeing the men, she nodded and moved away from the map files into the rows of books. Mako followed. He held back, watching as the men reached their level, conferred for a few seconds, and split up.

  There was no question the men were looking for Mako and Gretchen. “Check the brochure for an alternate exit,” he told her. Mako cursed at himself for not doing it before they entered.

  Gretchen moved behind an adjacent column and held the pamphlet flat against it. She spun it ninety degrees and pointed. “This way. Elevators.”

  Mako followed, glancing back every few steps. They reached an exit sign on right. The only problem was, because of the building’s design, they were underground in the “past.” Ground level was four flights above. That meant using either the elevators or the stairs.

  Gretchen led Mako toward the center of the building. Just as they reached the elevators, Mako heard someone call out behind him. He couldn’t understand the language, but he knew they had been spotted.

  Gretchen pressed the up button.

  The display above showed both cars were several levels above them. “We don’t have time to wait.”

  “Stairs?”

  Mako took off for the steel door that led to the stairs. The three men were converging on them.

  Mako approached the door, where a sign warned that an alarm would sound if the door was opened. They didn’t need the library’s security alerted as well. The three men behind them were plenty to worry about.

  He scanned the area for any other means to escape.

  “Can you climb?”

  “What?”

  “Look.” He pointed to the rectangular openings formed into the wall. “We can climb it.”

  The entire face of the curved exterior wall was riddled with what appeared to be one-by-three-foot cavities. Mako thought it odd, but their purpose didn’t matter now, only that the holes were evenly spaced—and within easy reach of each other.

  “Sure thing,” Gretchen said.

  Mako, hoping to buy at least a few seconds, hit the up and down elevator buttons. He grabbed Gretchen’s hand and led her through the stacks. As they circled back to the open area and the wall, Mako looked through the empty shelves to see if the men had spotted them. He heard a ding from the elevator bank and noticed the two standing in front of the open door, clearly confused.

  They reached the exterior wall and Mako stepped back to allow Gretchen to start her ascent. He watched and waited as she scaled the wall using the openings. When she was about six feet above him, he started up.

  Aside from the slippery concrete on the interior faces of the openings, the climb was relatively easy and they were moving up at a good pace. Set about two feet apart in an offset grid, they easily worked from side to side as they ascended.

  When they reached the next level, Mako risked a glance behind and saw they were out of the line of sight for most of the lower level. He pushed ahead and considered what he hadn’t when they started their climb—an exit plan.

  The glass-paneled roof was more than a hundred feet overhead. They could reach it this way, but the chances of being spotted and the unknown elements—if there was any way to climb to safety—turned Mako’s attention away from the idea.

  Instead he focused on the next level. Because of the layout of the building, climbing vertically brought them out into a no-man’s-land.

  “Go three sideways for every one up,” he told Gretchen.

  Gretchen complied without response. Mako paused to allow her some space. She seemed to be alright and they were only minutes from safety. He pushed on, now moving in a more horizontal direction.

  They reached the intersection where the half wall for the level above abutted the exterior wall. “Can you get over the rail or should I go first?” Mako asked.

  “Got it.” Gretchen released one leg and tried to swing her body over. After two attempts, her long legs cleared the wall.

  Seconds later, Mako was beside her. He glanced over the wall and saw no sign of pursuit, but that gave him little security.

  “There.” Mako ran toward an open space past the elevators. He reached it and found himself in a corridor. With Gretchen in tow, Mako rushed down the plain hallway.

  Compared to the openness of the library, the corridor felt tight. It was at most four feet wide, with the doors spaced in even increments on their right, reaching to the low ceiling. The paneled hall, with the exception of transom windows set high in its interior walls, further closed in the space that seemed to stretch to infinity.

  As he looked ahead, he started to worry that he had led them into a dead end. Broken only by solid doors with brass nameplates, the corridor appeared to curve around the building. Every few seconds he glanced back, noticing Gretchen was falling further behind. He slowed and looked beyond her. There was no sign of pursuit, but he was at a disadvantage not knowing the layout of the library. He slowed down to wait for Gretchen and by chance saw the name on the door: “Rashida Mustafa.”

  Wasting no time, he tried the handle. To his surprise the door opened, and he found himself looking into the eyes of the woman from the bar.

  32

  Offshore, The Florida Keys

  Alicia watched the colors of the water ahead. The thousand different shades of greens and blues told her what lay below. Caution was needed to navigate the shallow brown water outside the canal. Deep, white scars running through the dark grassy bottom were evidence of the many boats that had ignored the channel markers. She could tell by where the marks stopped whether the boats had plowed through, made it off, or been forced to wait for high tide.

  She knew TJ had considered running up on the flats, but instead, he kept going. Provoking the man by grounding this close to shore might have ended things faster than they would like. Their fate rested in the security of The Vault. If it were breached, they were expendable—if not, they were of some value. The boat soon left the lighter-colored water, dotted with dark coral patches, and entered Hawk Channel, the mile-or-so wide, thirty-foot-deep channel running like a highway between land and the reef.

  Once across the channel they entered another light-colored area. Cleansed by the Gulf Stream waters, the colors of the shallow reefs were even more vibrant than the inshore waters. The gin-clear water made judging depth difficult, but Alicia had crossed this area many times. Though the bottom was clearly visible, the depth was in the twenty-foot range. They were crossing the reef now, and the water gradually darkened to a deep indigo.

  From here, the bottom fell off quickly. In another dozen miles they would be in a thousand feet of water. TJ glanced at the man, looking for direction as they left the reef behind. Alicia felt their speed drop, but kept her eyes away from TJ and the instruments. They both knew they were close to the point of no return. If they continued on this course, they would be out of reach of help.

  The engines suddenly died. Alicia glanced at the helm and saw that TJ had pulled out the small plastic disc inserted in the kill switch.

  The man looked around. “Why are you stopping?”

  TJ looked around as the boat settled in the swell. Alicia watched the man carefully to see if he had sea legs or not. He started to get up, but grasped the back of the chair.

  “Looks like we’re out of fuel.”

  “You brought the cans, go fill it.”

  TJ shrugged like this was a normal occurrence and dropped down the short ladder to the main deck. Alicia watched as he carried one of the cans to the fill port. Using a pair of fishing pliers, he removed the cap, lifted the jug, and inserted the spout into the hole. Alicia watched him and wondered what he was up to, besides buying time. When she saw that he hadn’t opened the vent plug on the can, she realized time was the whole point.

  She slyly observed the man, who was sitting back in the chair pecking something into his phone. Every few seconds he looked up at the horizon.

  Their captor was clearly not a sailor.r />
  Key Largo, Florida

  John checked the rest of the house before returning to the War Room. He remembered the layout and waited just beyond the door, trying to physically place the voices. There appeared to be three people inside. Two men’s voices came from Alicia’s desk and TJ’s chair. There was no other workstation. From the direction of the chatter, he decided that the third problem was a woman, standing behind Alicia’s workstation. From the crispness of her orders, she was also in charge.

  There was no sign of Alicia or TJ.

  John had no way of knowing if any or all of the trio were armed. He listened to them talking while he made his plan. There was clearly frustration in their voices.

  With the odds against him, John needed more of an advantage than the H&K in his hand, especially if they were armed. He noticed the contrast between the sunlit living room and the darkness in the War Room and moved silently to the kitchen.

  In the pantry he found a large flashlight. He checked that it worked and moved back to the War Room. With his H&K in his right hand and the flashlight in the left, he breathed deeply and mentally rehearsed his next moves.

  Releasing a breath, he inhaled again, turned on the light, and kicked the door fully open. John had decided to increase his odds by first taking out the two people clustered together. The light beam hit the man sitting at Alicia’s desk squarely in the eyes.

  With the light temporarily blinding the first man, John swung the beam to the woman behind him.

  “Hands where I can see them!”

  John saw the man and woman comply and shifted the beam to the captain’s chair.

  It was empty.

  “Where’s your buddy?”

  “He was just there,” the man at the desk said. “We’re not going to give you any trouble.”

  “Right, you’re not.” In two strides John was standing over the man and, with a calculated move, he slammed the butt of the H&K into his temple. The man’s head fell to the desk.

  “Why did you do that? We were cooperating.”

  The woman was clearly the boss. “He’ll be alright. Now, stand against the wall.” The clock in John’s head was ticking. With one of the trio on the loose, he had to move quickly. He scanned the room for something to restrain the woman, but there were no visible cords anywhere. Cursing the latest level of wireless technology, he led the woman out of the War Room and into the kitchen.

  A quick search revealed a roll of duct tape in one of the drawers. John peeled off the end with his teeth. “Hold still.” Tears flooded her eyes as John wrapped the tape around her wrists. Once she was secure, John’s threat level deescalated a notch. It dropped further when he heard the sound of crushed coral spraying the side of the building. Glancing out the window, he saw the van take off.

  “Where are Alicia and TJ?”

  She rubbed her nose. “Who? We were just brought in to hack some system.”

  John sensed that she was telling the truth. “Any luck with that?”

  “No. These guys are good.”

  John was relieved to hear that TJ and Alicia’s data was secure. “Where are they?”

  “The man who hired us took them. He said something about a boat ride.”

  Now that he knew what he was dealing with, John changed tactics, deciding it best to befriend the woman. “What’s your name?”

  “Samantha.”

  “Okay, Samantha. The way I see it, you and your boyfriend in there are accessories to whatever happens to my friends. That means jail time.”

  “He’s my brother,” she said defensively.

  “Whatever. Deal’s the same.”

  He waited for the news to settle.

  “So, if jail’s not the outcome you’re looking for, you can help me get my friends back.”

  “But what can we do?”

  “Go wake up your brother. Both of you are coming with me.” John watched as she walked into the War Room. The girl was a mess, which meant she was out of her element. Though he had no direct authority to help her with a plea deal if a crime was committed, she didn’t know that. If she was correct and Alicia and TJ had been taken by boat somewhere, he needed help.

  The pair emerged from the room. He could see a bruise on the man’s head, but it didn’t look serious. They clung to each other as they approached.

  “We’ll help.”

  It was a big ocean out there and John knew better than to run blindly after them. “How do we find their boat?”

  The couple exchanged a quick look. With the simple question, their minds were engaged and they transformed back to themselves.

  “Can we use their computers?”

  John wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He wouldn’t have a clue what they were doing. They could just as easily sabotage his efforts as help. He turned to the picture window facing the canal. The Atlantic was just visible through the Australian pines waving in the breeze. “Okay, but try anything and you know what the consequences are.”

  A few minutes later Samantha turned and looked at him. “We’ve got something.”

  John might not know his way around a computer, but he was very good at tracking people and things. He knew and embraced current technologies and had instructed the duo to search for the dive shop’s AIS number. The maritime automated location service showed the location of vessels equipped with a transponder or a piece of electronic equipment which broadcast the GPS location of the boat. VHF radios had also started to use the technology to provide a distress button that when activated sent the vessel’s position to the Coast Guard.

  Commercial vessels, to meet lender and insurance requirements, were often required to be fitted with a transponder. The first step was to locate the boat. He had the pair first search the shop’s website for the name, then access the marine database for the AIS number. Once he had that, there were several websites that showed real-time data for any vessel whose system was currently activated.

  He studied the blue dot on the screen. Now that he knew where they were, the question was how to get them back.

  “Either of you two know how to run a boat?” The reality that the dive shop’s boat was gone wasn’t going to stop John.

  “My family rented jet skis in Mexico once.”

  Samantha and her brother, whose name was Dave, stared at John as he screwed the barrel onto the matte black TNW Aero Survival Rifle and unfolded the stock. John checked the red-dot sight mounted to the picatinny rail and slammed home the magazine. He liked Sam, which she asked to be called, immediately, and was warming to her brother. As he watched the siblings watching him, he fought off a feeling that could only be described as grandfatherly. But emotional connections were bad for business. John ended his inner discussion, jammed the H&K in its holster, and clipped the rifle to a sling. He was ready.

  “Good enough. Let’s go.” John led the way out of the house with his two minions in tow.

  The dock might have been empty, but the canal was lined with boats. The ones on lifts he ignored, as he did anything with more than one engine. He wanted something simple and reliable.

  The boat’s AIS location, which he had Dave monitoring on his phone, was eight miles away. There wasn’t enough time to be saved in stealing a faster boat he was unsure about operating. KISS had been drilled into him in training. Keep it simply, stupid. Something you know how to use is better than what you don’t.

  Sliding the rifle to his right hip on the canal side, John walked along the seawall. Sam and Dave followed as they moved from property to property, checking the docks for the right boat. Aside from the “simple” part of the rule, he also needed it to have a key.

  A twenty-foot center console was docked with a single line. Boats that had been sitting very long typically had three or four lines in case the wind came up. The half-dozen fishing rods sitting in the stainless-steel holders also attracted his attention. Moving onto the dock, John saw the key in the ignition.

  “Go.”

  “We’re going to steal it?” Dave asked.


  Sam climbed aboard. She turned to her brother standing on the dock. “Like what we were doing before was totally legit. Come on.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  John got that grandfatherly feeling again, but this time he wanted to slap the boy. Instead, he started the boat and released the line. He’d seen this show before. Sam was a leader and Dave was a follower.

  John pressed the throttle to idle speed and cut the wheel to starboard. Just as he was about to goose the throttle, he felt the weight shift. He didn’t need to turn around to see that Dave had boarded.

  “Sam, take the wheel. Dave, navigate.” John moved forward and checked his weapons.

  33

  Alexandria, Egypt

  The woman looked up in surprise. Her hand went to the phone on the desk. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t call security,” Mako said. He held her gaze. It was the only weapon he had to stop her.

  “There are three men after us,” Gretchen said.

  “In the museum?”

  “Yes. We believe they’re the minister’s men,” Gretchen said.

  Mako let her do the talking, hoping that coming from another woman it would be more believable. Rashi’s hand fell away from the phone and her expression changed. Where Mako had expected shock or disbelief, she had a resigned look, like she had just accepted a truth that she’d been denying. When her hand moved back to the phone Mako guessed her intent was different, but he still stopped her.

  “They’re gone. We ditched them in the reading room.”

  Her hand relaxed, but she was edgy. “Security should still be informed.”

  “We don’t know who’s working for who,” Gretchen said.

  “I want to hear the entire story, including how you found me here.”

  Mako and Gretchen exchanged a glance. She nodded at him to continue.

  “I work with a group that is under contract to the CIA,” he said, stretching the truth slightly as he went. Mako wound out the story that started with the recovery of the files containing the map in DC. When he got to John’s abduction, Rashi stopped him.