by D S Kane
Gault imagined that the hitters would fight over her head until only one remained alive. He sighed. This wasn’t why he joined the agency. “Yes, sir. Anything else?”
“Yes. What’s Ainsley’s status?”
“I last reviewed his Bug-Lok transcript as my flight landed in Maui. No change. GPS says he’s still where he always is. And, nothing interesting on his transcripts.”
“Good, Bob. Listen, there’s a new wrinkle on the Ainsley-Sashakovich thing. I want you to assemble a surveillance team. Follow their daughter, Ann Silbee Sashakovich.”
He frowned. “She’s not involved in any of this, sir. Why follow her?”
“Follow orders. If Sashakovich dies and we find it necessary to terminate Ainsley, the daughter will have to go, too. No telling what they told her. But we’re not doing that right now. So just assemble the team and report back on her travels. You are on board, aren’t you?”
Gault’s mouth worked but no sound left his lips. He couldn’t imagine executing a fifteen-year-old.
“Bob?”
He gripped the cell phone so hard his fingers turned white. “Uh, yes, sir. I understand.” But, he didn’t understand.
Greenfield terminated the call, but all Bob could do was stand there, cooking in the tropical heat while ten floors above him, people were trying to murder one of his former peers.
There but for the grace of God went he. Suddenly, something deep within him snapped, and he walked back to the parking lot to get to his car. He drove back to his hotel, the InterContinental, just down the road.
He had work to do. Something new burned deep inside him. It was as if his very soul was at stake.
* * *
There was a lull in the fighting. Cassie fell asleep while daylight streamed bright through cracks and bullet holes in the closed window shades. Her two remaining bodyguards took turns on watch. She was startled awake by her cell phone vibrating against her shirt pocket. “Sashakovich,” she answered, still drowsy.
“Is this Cassandra Sashakovich?”
“Who’s this?”
“This is April May O’Toole. I’m an investigative reporter, working from northern California. Is this Ms. Sashakovich?”
Cassie frowned. What’s this all about? “Yes I’m Sashakovich. What do you want?”
“I’d like to interview you for a piece I’m writing on the President’s trial for treason.”
Cassie’s jaw dropped. “Trial? Has a trial started?”
“No, but it’s the big story in Washington right now. And rumors I’ve heard say it all started with you. So—”
Shocked, Cassie started to terminate the call, but then an idea occurred to her. “I’ll cooperate. But we’re under attack here. You may have heard. Have you?”
“Yes. It’s posted on a news site.”
Cassie nodded, thinking how to leverage her danger. “I may have to terminate our conversation if the shooting starts again.” And then, conveniently, the shooting began right on time for the interview. The cracks of gunshots were louder than Cassie’s voice.
“How close are your enemies?”
“They’re right here, and they have been for over a week. Hundreds right on this floor, some as close as fifty feet, and none more than two hundred feet away. Possibly a thousand more in the hotel lobby and many more on the grounds surrounding the hotel. So far we’ve been able to defend ourselves, but several of my team have been hurt by these contract killers. Seems that the police can’t or won’t try to stop them.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“Dunno. Maybe because there are less police on this island than killers. But possibly because the island is controlled by the Yakuza. Certainly not a good advertisement for security at the hotels here.”
“And, why are so many people trying to kill you?”
Her mind worked at light speed, and she knew this was a double-edged sword. If she spoke truthfully, she’d attract more hitters, and even more people betting on her death. A bullet whizzed by her head and made a loud “thunk” in the wall. “Shit, that one was too close,” she said, wondering if the interviewer would bleep out her vulgar word. “All I can say is, I came here for a vacation, and what’s happening to me isn’t in any of the hotel’s brochures. I thought that Hawaii was supposed to be a relaxing place. Well, this isn’t soothing. It’s a very bad way to spend the few remaining days of my young life.”
“I’d like some background on you. How old are you, Ms. Sashakovich?”
“I’ll turn twenty-nine in another four months, but only if I can live that long. The visit to Hawaii was to be an early birthday vacation.”
“Oh.” There was a long silence from O’Toole, but once again she heard the woman’s typing. Cassie figured she was pondering how to regain control over the conversation. “I did some investigative work on the President. It seems you had something to do with the charges of treason now pending against him. Can you to tell me what you know about the President and what he did to trigger the investigation?”
Cassie thought about what she might garner from this conversation. “What can you offer me for helping you out?”
“Well, I could write your story. I mean, it could make front-page news.”
Cassie’s voice rose in alarm. “I don’t think that’d help. It might cause things here to get even worse. But maybe you’ll think of something else.” At least O’Toole offered a quid pro quo.
“So, what did the President do to merit a treason trial?”
Cassie frowned. “I’ve been out of Washington for over three weeks. I don’t even know what’s currently happening. So, be more specific.”
“I feel sure there’s a more interesting story underneath the man’s treason, if that’s even true. Is there anything you can tell me? Anything at all?”
A loud explosion blew out another chunk of the rapidly disappearing doorway. Cassie waited for her hearing to normalize. “Listen, I have to defend myself and this conversation is taking me away from that. Tell you what; I’ll call you if I manage to live long enough to get off this island. When I’m safe. Gotta go now. You can ask your questions if I survive this.”
Cassie waited while the reporter paused. “Well, Ms. Sashakovich, I wish you and your team luck. And I hope that the police can find a way to help you out of this.”
Cassie terminated the call. She braved a glance out the suite’s broken picture window and could see a television truck parked outside in the parking lot. Finally, news media was becoming aware of this! It was getting too surreal for even her. If I’m murdered, will my death be televised? Will they televise my beheading? Woman murdered at luxury hotel, headshot at eleven.
As the days passed, the attacks became the only constant in her life. She watched her mercs get wounded, one by one, but so far none had died. Most of the wounds were superficial, straight-throughs or grazes. They’d been lucky. Now, it was ten days. Their food was down to scraps and they were low on ammunition. Three of the mercenaries had recovered weapons from the zombie patriots and were using an array of rifles and handguns. The remainder of her mercs were only firing when they had a kill-shot. since Shimmel’s call telling her that he was on his way. She wondered, will we get lucky and actually live through this?
And she heard nothing on the news from the only television in the two suites that still hadn’t been crippled by bullets. They were on their own until Avram returned.
There was no way for her to change what might happen to her and the people devoted to her survival while they waited. She thought about April May O’Toole and how the reporter could be manipulated to do something helpful for Cassie and her mercs. Nothing came to her. She was exhausted and her thought process compromised.
* * *
Over dinner Lee whispered to Ann, “I heard from Shimmel. Tonight’s the night. They’re gonna try to evac Cassie to a sub.”
Her jaw had dropped. “Lee, won’t this be even more dangerous than her staying in the hotel? Won’t they be able to kill her
and the mercenaries as soon as they leave the room?”
Lee’d dropped his gaze to his dinner plate. “Yes. But she won’t last much longer in the hotel. They have to try.”
Ann left her dinner on its plate and trudged up the stairs to her room. At first she cried, worried she’d never see her new mom again. She wanted to tell Cassie she loved her. But being alone while this happened, it was intolerable. She needed her friends. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and made four calls in succession.
She waited for an hour until she heard the doorbell ring. Lee called up the stairs. “Ann, you have some visitors. Four, to be exact.”
“Send them up. And thanks, Lee.”
Ann, Charles, and her friends from algebra class sat on the carpet in her bedroom. Ann looked into every face. “I need your help. I feel desperate. Is there anything I can do to help my mom? Sitting here while she fights for her life. It makes me angry and sad at the same time.”
Susan stared back. “Pray for her.”
Anne heard no other alternatives. Without conviction, she nodded her head. “Okay. Maybe it’ll work.” But she looked from one head to the next, unsure how to do this.
Susan folded her hands together. “Just try to talk to God. He’ll listen.”
Their eyes were closed, their hands clasped together. Ann barely whispered. “Almighty, if you do indeed exist, please save my mom.”
In unison, they whispered, “Amen.”
Susan reached Ann’s other hand and grasped it. “Keep on praying. Even if it doesn’t work, it’ll make you feel good.”
Mary sighed. “Didn’t help my mom. But our family priest told me sometimes it does if your faith is strong enough.”
Julie smiled at Ann. “It might work. Maybe this time it will.”
Ann had no idea if it would work. Or what might work better. But this was the only thing anyone had offered as a way she could help Cassie. And that was her objective.
* * *
The sun set red on a gray pillow of clouds in Lahaina, the perfect model of a tourist town. Five men wearing Hawaiian shirts made their way toward shore, paddling a rubber raft. Now about a hundred yards off the shore, they used binoculars to scan the marina. One pointed to an enormous yacht, large enough to hold over one hundred passengers. They paddled fast, heading toward it.
When they reached the yacht, the one closest to it threw a heavy-duty rope around its stainless steel docking cleat on the port side and then all five silently boarded. Dinner in Lahaina had drawn its occupants to the shoreside restaurants. They disabled the only guard, rendering him unconscious before he could react to the men behind him. One of them placed his body onto the raft they’d used and pushed him in the general direction of shore.
In minutes, the yacht’s new crew had the yacht’s anchor up and the engine running. One of them, their leader, dialed a number on the GNU Radio phone. “We’ve got the prize, sir, and we’re headed out. Heavy-duty engine. We can do at least fifteen knots. We’ll meet up with you in Wailea in under an hour.” He listened for the reply and then terminated the connection.
* * *
William Wing drew his cell phone from his pants pocket. He called Cassie.
“Cassie? It’s Wing. I have bad news and good news. Which—”
“Not funny, William. Just tell me everything.”
Wing gulped. He thought, here goes everything. He took a deep breath to calm and center himself. “Watson has once again evaded us. The room contained his suitcase, with a few pieces of clothing, some of it Middle Eastern. We waited in the lobby for him. I don’t know how, but I’m pretty sure he must have spotted us as we entered the lobby and just flew away. That’s the bad news. The good news is that while we were on our way here, he received and made several phone calls on his smartphone. He received one from a guy named Omasu Maru. When you first called with news of the attack, I did some research for Avram Shimmel and it turns out that Maru is the head of the Japanese Building Society’s Tokyo branch. It’s also called the Yakuza. I’m still researching details of the call. But I discovered, when breaking into GrayNet.com, the identifiers used in the telecommunications from Maru to Watson are similar to the identifiers from the party that placed the original bet on your death. So I ran a scan on both Maru and Houmaz and guess what? There are several calls made by each of them to the other.”
The tone of Cassie’s voice showed the surge of shock flowing through her. “The Yakuza and a family of terrorists?”
“Yes. What do you want us to do now?”
Cassie thought about her family. She’d probably never see them again. She sighed. “Return to Washington and take the mercs with you. Between stealing the subs and the contract on my life, right now, I’m afraid that as long as I live, Lee and Ann can be leveraged against me. Have your merc team defend our house. Just in case.”
* * *
Nearing midnight, two ancient submarines lay moored at anchor in Wailea with the stolen yacht between them. Avram Shimmel and ten merc team leaders emerged from the hatch of the larger submarine and each put on night goggles. They were all equipped for night combat. Shimmel had memorized the hotel’s blueprints during their last “visit.” He pointed toward the buildings. “There’s the hotel. You can see the Nippon Tower; it’s the closest building to the beachhead. And the tallest. About two hundred meters away. There are entrances at ground level on either side of the tower. Only the elevators on the right side go all the way to the tower rooms, but they descend only to the lobby. Left side elevators go up to the ninth floor but they descend to the spa in the basement. There is an exit to the beach on the spa level.”
He looked at each of the team leaders in turn. “As you can see, there are at least six hundred hitters on the lawn between the tower entrance and us. They won’t see us as adversaries going in, because they might think we’re fellow hitters. We’ll go in one at a time, meet in the lobby, take the elevator in small groups to the tenth floor and wait by the elevator there until everyone is in place. Then on my signal, we’ll terminate the hitters on the top floor, evac Sashakovich, the two bodyguards, and her team of mercs. Many of the mercs have been wounded and some will need to be carried in stretchers.”
He stared at the blueprints again, nodding and then looked at his team leaders once more. “This is how we’ll arrange the exodus from hell.” He described everyone’s role in detail, the timing, the contingency plans, and then said, “Tell your crews. Then reassemble everyone here on the yacht in five minutes.”
The merc team leaders dropped down through the hatches of both subs and Shimmel used his cell phone to make a call. “It’s Avram. We’re ready to get you.”
“Thank God, Avram.”
“Listen carefully. This little plan is very fragile. So many contingencies. You must understand them all before we begin. It’s like a football play—American football—where the play can be arranged before it’s started, and then rearranged in real-time depending on the adversary’s position, reactions, and level of aggressiveness.”
* * *
Avram told her everything. Twice, just to make sure.
When he was done, she shook her head. Such long odds. I may die tonight after all. She thought about calling Lee and Ann but, if she did, what would she say?
Before she could even think about her odds, the cell buzzed with another call from Avram.
* * *
Forty mercenaries and Shimmel boarded the yacht and rode it to within twenty feet of the beach. Then everyone except for Shimmel jumped into the warm, shallow water and waded to shore. Avram waited on board, coordinating the operation from the sidelines like a football coach.
Ten of the mercs took up sniping positions along both flanks of the beachhead, climbing to the tops of palm trees along the path that the evacuees would need to travel. It took over an hour for the twenty remaining mercs to make it quietly to the tenth floor of the Nippon Tower.
By then, Cassie had called each of the rooms on the tenth floor, all occupi
ed by at least one of her mercs. She gave each their orders. “Corporal Smithers, this is Sashakovich. We’re about to evac.”
“Thank God for that.”
“Turn off the room lights. Look out your window at the beach. Note the positions of all possible hitters. Relay your intel to General Shimmel via your GNU Radio. Then, open the door to your room and prepare to evac. When you evac your room, sight a hitter on the tenth floor and kill him. Shimmel’s men will have secured the elevators, so make your way to one of the two, adjacent the check-in area for this floor. We’ll all go down together to the lobby and head for the staircase to the beach. If this isn’t possible, fall back to the other elevator and take it down one floor, to the beach exit at the Spa. There’s a large yacht just off the shoreline. Board it as fast as you can. Team leaders have additional contingencies if needed. All of the mercs on the tenth floor are getting the same orders. Good luck. See you on the other side. Cassie out.”
As she finished the calling the last mercenary, she heard a beep. An incoming call.
“It’s General Shimmel. This message is for everyone. We’re all ready. Good luck and may God be with you. Proceed on my signal.” He looked out into the darkness that was brightened by his night vision goggles into a symphony of bright green on black He watched the snipers in the palm trees take aim.
The elevator doors opened and seven mercs walked into the outdoor hallway, dressed in casual clothes covering body armour. Less than a minute later, the doors opened again and another load of mercenaries entered the hallway. This happened two more times. Twenty-eight mercs who looked like they could just have been additional hitters stood in front of the elevators, aiming silenced weapons.
In a steady, pounding tone, Avram yelled through their ear buds. “Go, go, go!”
Twenty-one men dressed in the same pattern of Hawaiian shirts ran from their rooms. Most of the lights on this floor had been blown out, and in the dark of night, the shirts weren’t an identifying tag. Twelve had their guns at the ready. The others assisted or carried nine wounded mercs and all moved toward the elevators as fast as they could.
