by Bryan Koepke
“Wow, that’s cool that you served your country. Did you fly?”
“No, not back then.”
“Not in the Air Force, but you do now?” she said, clarifying.
“Yeah, I’m a private pilot,” Reece said as he moved the lit match around the pieces of newspaper, setting them on fire.
“We should go sometime,” he said.
“You’d take me up?”
“Yeah, unless you didn’t want to,” he said.
“I’d love to fly with you in a small plane.”
Daring: that’s what he liked to see in a woman. “We should do it. You could take the controls,”
“You’d let me do that?”
“It would be cool.”
“Marie, there’s something I have to ask you.”
She stiffened, sensing the change in mood. “What’s that?”
“Is Karl the kind of guy that would commit a crime? I mean, of the white-collar variety?” Reece added quickly.
“I’d like to think not, but if it would cost him his savings, his reputation, and the power he has, then I don’t know,” Marie said bringing her wine glass up for a drink. “I mean, there was a time when I’d say definitely not, but over the past year he’s changed.” She couldn’t help adding the spiteful remark, “Since he has to afford his new woman.”
Chapter 21
The last glimpses of sunshine faded from the horizon, yielding to the darkness that fell upon the countryside south of London. Margaret Charles swung her racket at the tennis ball. Four rows of sodium lights beamed down from above. The hairy yellow ball bounced, and with the spin she’d applied, it veered to the right off of the court.
“30-30. Good shot, Margo,” Nigel Adams yelled from the opposite side.
Julian Cross eyed the pair from his seat in the garden three hundred yards east. He was at the gazebo facing north, but from that spot he could clearly see both of them past two rows of hedges and the finely manicured green lawn that separated the garden from the tennis complex.
Margaret walked to the baseline to serve the next ball. The pair had been playing tennis all afternoon and into the evening. The others had called it quits just before dark, and Julian was hoping these two would soon finish their set and go in. There wasn’t a solid plan yet, but he’d brought both his short and long guns, and if needed a knife. It was long and skinny, like the type of knife fisherman use to fillet their catch. Julian preferred the distance and anonymity of rifle work, but that would have taken time to set up and his boss wanted her taken out quickly.
The man opposite her was of small stature, but fit, and he had a strong arm, evidenced by the speed of his shots. Julian eyed Margaret from behind and wondered which of the two hotel rooms they’d sleep in. He’d prefer that they used one for their fun and then retreated to their own rooms for sleep. He hadn’t been hired to take out both targets.
“40–30, I’ve got you now, old boy,” Margaret said, retreating from the net in her beige tennis skirt and blue short-sleeved shirt. She had nice legs and Julian was idly rooting for her to win the game. Nigel was in white tennis shorts that bulged oddly with the tennis balls in his pocket.
Her serve must have been dramatic, because she let out a whoop and the play ended. They packed their rackets into their tennis bags, and strolled arm in arm off the court. Julian watched them in disappointment. All hot and sweaty now, he thought, ready to take a shower—together, shouldn’t we? When was she ever going to break free so he could do his job and go home?
Hours later, Julian watched Margaret emerge from the double glass doors of Nigel Adams’ first-floor suite. The man looked puppet like in her arms. She was taller, her arms more muscled, and her body thicker than his. They kissed a second time and when she turned, he patted her behind. They both wore the resort’s thick white cotton robes. Nigel’s hair was messed up and Margaret’s lipstick and mascara were smeared.
She left his room, stopping to blow him a kiss, and then walked down the walkway toward the staircase that ran to her third-floor room.
Julian had spared himself the details of what they were doing inside for so long. He could have used his binoculars to view the pair inside, but instead he sat on a wooden bench. From there he could watch for Margaret to leave.
Julian rose from the bench with his Sig Sauer 9mm handgun in the waistband of his dress pants. The tails of the blue sports coat he wore kept the length of the weapon out of sight. It was dark now and the black anodized finish of the weapon would be hard to spot as long as he stayed in shadow. He felt the heft of the gun as he walked, along with the S4 Series Suppressor resting in the breast pocket of his jacket.
Up ahead, Margaret passed through a white wrought iron gate that led to the pool area. He guessed she’d go for a swim and he broke into a sprint, leaving the grassy area behind her to take up a position on the hill rising to the east just past the pool. He was there in position before she’d taken off her robe. It looked like she was staring at the moon high and bright in the sky.
Margaret walked over to one of the twin hot tubs, bent down to push the button bringing the whirlpool to life, dropped her robe onto a chair, and stepped down the stairs into the water. She was looking north and Julian worried she might see him and wonder what he was up to, so he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first draw was satisfying and it made him think of dinner. It had to be better than the scorched bacon he’d had the other morning.
She rose from the tub as if she was going to leave and then settled back down with the rear of her head facing in his direction. Julian turned in a circle, surveying the area for witnesses, and then tossed his cigarette aside. He lowered himself to his knees, and then dropped down into a prone position. The grass a few inches below his chin smelled strong and earthy the way it does after being freshly mowed. He checked left, then back right. No one was around. It was late now, and most of the room lights had gone out an hour or so earlier.
With the suppressor screwed onto the barrel of the Sig Sauer pistol, Julian took aim at the center upper third of Margaret Charles’ skull. The bullet exited the suppressor with a satisfying burp. It was really a pity, Julian thought as he rose swiftly to his feet and hurried away. No one would want to use that hot tub again for a very long time.
Chapter 22
Reece Culver drove through the countryside of Scotland, thinking about what Marie had said. Haisley had called earlier, but he’d missed it. He scrolled to the number and hit send on his cellphone.
“Hello.”
“Haisley, it’s Reece. I saw that you called earlier. What’s up?”
“Oh, just thought I’d check in with you and see if you ever got out fishing.”
“No, I haven’t made it out yet. How are things over in London? Were you able to tap into Karl Rhodes’ computer?”
“I was, and there’s definitely something funny going on at Draecon, but the big find is what I got off of Billington’s computer.”
“Billington, how did you manage that?”
“You remember that flash drive I had you install?”
“Yeah,” Reece said.
“Well, a few minutes after you inserted the drive into the computer a program started up and loaded my files onto his hard drive. It sent me an email with his IP address and other information that enabled me to gain remote access to his laptop,” Haisley said.
“Okay, so what did you find?”
“Two things. First, a file on his hard drive named SYER contains what looks to me like scanned copies of engineering drawings. I’m sending a couple of emails to your account with the drawings attached. Once we know what these are about, I can ask Karl Rhodes about them.”
“I’m on my way back to the motel right now. When I get there I’ll take a look at them and call you back,” Reece said as he slowed at a stop sign. “And the second thing you mentioned?”
“That’s the most interesting. You remember when I told you Karl suspected he was being set up by someone at Draecon?” Haisley said.
“Yeah.”
“Well, it turns out that whoever hacked into Rhodes’ office at Draecon did it remotely, like I’m doing now on Billington’s computer to get these drawings.”
“Have you been able to trace the IP and get the location of the hacker?” Reece said.
“No, not yet. They’re good at covering their tracks with some very elaborate software,” Haisley said, taking a drink of something. Just hearing him made Reece think about how thirsty he was.
“What I have figured out is that Karl doesn’t know shit about computers. He’s a smart businessman, but he takes all the technical stuff for granted.”
“That makes sense, but I wouldn’t one hundred percent trust this guy. I’ve been spending some time with his wife and she’s not so sure he’s squeaky clean,” Reece said.
“I hear you there. That’s why I took his computer back to the flat I’m staying in. That way he can’t look over my shoulder,” Haisley said.
“Good, so what else did you find?”
“The biggest piece of news is that whoever’s behind this made it look like Karl Rhodes hacked into Thomas Billington’s computer ten days before his death. Then the week before he drove into the drink there on A83, a hack came from that same IP address into Karl’s work computer at Draecon,” Haisley said.
“So they’ve built up a forensic trail, so to speak, to implicate Karl in the death of Thomas Billington,” Reece said.
“Precisely.”
“I’m glad you were able to get into Billington’s computer,” Reece said.
“So, did you go through all of the folders from Billington’s apartment?”
“No, not really. The weirdest thing happened. I was at the motel the other day. I’d pulled up and was waiting for the rain to stop before going in. This dark-haired woman comes out from that hallway that leads to the rooms. She didn’t fit,” Reece said.
“Didn’t fit? What do you mean?”
“I mean, this woman looked totally out of place here in Tarbert. I don’t know how to describe it, but she looked like she had a serious edge to her.”
“So, how does that have anything to do with your reading those files?”
“I went to our room, and someone had cased the joint. The desk drawers, closets, everything was pulled open and left that way like they were searching for something. So I got to my hiding place beneath the mattress, and the green file, the one I hadn’t read yet was gone. It had to be her. I had a hunch earlier when I was in the car and saw her walk out, but you know how that is,” Reece said.
“Yeah, I know. Did you get a good look at this woman? Give me a description,” Haisley said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m in London. I’ve been to Rhodes’ office. This woman may work at Draecon.
“Medium height, short black hair with V shaped sideburns, like Joan Jett used to have,” Reece said.
“What was she wearing?”
“Black yoga pants, black mid-calf boots, and a leather jacket,” Reece said.
“Okay, I’ve got it. You didn’t happen to get her plate?”
“No, like I said, I didn’t know at the time.”
“So, whoever is behind all of this knows that you stole that folder,” Haisley said. “Did you go after the girl?”
“That’s what I was doing when I got the call from MacDonald wanting me to head on over to the PD to waste my time listening to his stupid theories. If I’d stayed on the road, I might have found her and she might have led me to whoever killed Billington.” Reece said.
“Well, I have hit the mother lode here. Let me see what’s inside, and then we’ll be ready to take down these guys.”
Chapter 23
A raw blast of wind ran through Alex as he headed toward the hangar of his secret company. He’d earlier received the coded text message about his dry cleaning from Professor Nevius and was eager to find the man and chat with him. There inside the interior of the large dark hanger sat the three drones. The tools his team would use to start the next great depression.
Alex looked down at the identification card he’d earlier used to gain entry to the grounds of G56. It was a name he’d chosen for the secret company years before. To most others it meant nothing. To Alex it was his baby. Something he’d poured all his intellect into over the previous three years. It was his wholly owned company built from the ground up.
Everything was in place now. He’d successfully skimmed the money off of Draecon without anyone noticing. He’d accumulated as many shares of Draecon as possible and in the days leading up to the culmination of their plan he’d sell off the stock at its high and transfer the proceeds to his secret bank account. Part two of his plan was that he was shorting shares of many of London’s top companies, so that when the markets tanked in the days following the attack, Alex would cover his shorts and reap the benefits.
The money would be used to buy diamonds on the international market. These precious gems were his favorite currency. They were small, practically weightless, and in large quantities would insure he had the power to last through anything that came after G56 achieved its single mission.
He stepped off the elevator into the laboratory ten stories underground. It was an abandoned air base built by the British during the Second World War. To most it was a ghost town, and that’s what Alex was counting on.
After traversing the dimly lit hallway, he smiled when he saw the bright light flowing out of the large lab. In the distance he could hear the excited voices of his team. Nevius had recruited his best and brightest students and briefed them on what they thought was a secret military project that would soon be deployed in the Middle East. Only Alex and Professor Nevius knew the real objective.
“Ah, Mr. James, I’m glad you could make it. I’ve got everything ready for out test demonstration,” Nevius said.
“I wouldn’t miss this for front-row tickets to the Queen’s christening,” Alex said, letting his hatred for their leader bleed through.
“This is our chief drone pilot.”
Alex reached out a hand to the black-haired woman sitting in a large layout that reminded him of a flight simulator. In front of her were two small monitors, and directly above them were stacked two large full-color map displays. The woman smiled at Alex, believing he was some high-ranking member of the British military.
“Thank you for your service,” he said, sounding like a politician. Alex walked over to the right side and shook hands with a woman Nevius had told him was the pilot of drone number two. The two men left the room and walked down the dimly lit hallway that led to the elevator.
“They’re practicing. We’ve got unit number one fully functional,” Nevius said.
“How are their practice runs?” Alex said.
“We launch the drones at night over western Scotland. The airspace is practically empty. It’s a great opportunity for the women to practice their command and control skills, but for me it’s a test.”
“A test?” Alex said.
“A test to see if we can fly without detection from the military. That’s our largest hurdle. To pull off the mission we’ll have to fly down close to the streets of London. If we go up at altitude, the way the military did in Pakistan and Afghanistan, we’ll risk radar detection. I assume they’ll take them down first and then look for answers later,” Nevius said.
“I paid for the best technology on the market.”
“You did, but not military-grade hardware. That’s impossible. We’ve done the best we could within the timeline we’ve had to become operational,” Nevius said.
“So you’re telling me the military could detect my drones and blow them out of the air?”
“That’s why we keep practicing.”
Chapter 24
First thing in the morning Karl Rhodes walked down the hallway to Alex James’ office with Candice Carlyle following. “What did he say this was about?” she said.
“He got a call from someone at Scotland Yard. Alex sounded ver
y upset. He didn’t want Ian bothered with this, but he was adamant that you and I come to his office now,” Karl said.
“Is it me or is this guy starting to sound like he thinks he’s running the place?” she said.
“It’s not just you. He is, after all, Ian’s nephew. Maybe he thinks he’s an assistant CEO or something,” Karl said, pushing open the door to Alex’s office. James was sitting at a small table with his cellphone to his ear. He looked up at Karl and waved them in.
Karl took a seat at the opposite end of the table and Candice sat to his left. Alex pulled the phone from his ear and set it down on top of the table. “We’ve got a major problem,” he said.
“Problem? Is that what you call your storming into my office earlier, waving your arms and screaming at me when I was on the phone with one of our largest vendors?” Candice said.
“Sorry about that, but I needed your help,” Alex said, not sounding very convincing.
“Help with what?” Karl said.
“It’s your secretary, Margaret. There’s been a death,” Alex said.
“Margaret? A death? Is she okay,” Karl said.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Candice said.
“She died. I’m trying to get more information,” Alex said.
“And the police. Are they coming here?” Karl said.
“Yes, that’s who I was just on the phone with. There’s an Inspector Daren Dixon downstairs,” Alex said. “He sounds like a real prick.”
Karl stood up. “So, it sounds like you have this covered.”
“What I’m saying is, I want you to go downstairs and take care of this,” Alex said.
“Oh, I thought what you were saying was that you’re afraid to go downstairs and talk to the police yourself. I don’t know what’s happened to give you the impression that you’re somehow in charge around here, but I’ve got work to do. Get off your ass, go downstairs, and talk to them. It was you that fielded the call in the first place,” Karl nearly screamed at the man.
Chapter 25
