Danger Close

by James P. Sumner

  “Jericho’s in the palace with what’s left of his own squad. He understands the importance of cooperation with the Palugan military right now. He’s doing his best to get us some answers. Only thing we have so far makes no sense.”

  Collins frowned. “And that is?”

  “Jericho said that—”

  A loud bang disturbed them. Both men looked over to see the door wide open and Julie standing in the threshold. Her face was contorted with anger she didn’t know where to direct.

  “What the hell is going on out there?” she yelled.

  Behind her, Kim hovered outside. She peered over Julie’s shoulder to catch Buchanan’s gaze, mouthed sorry, then quietly shut the door.

  Julie marched over to the desk. “Seriously, what the hell was that yesterday?” she shouted. “And why isn’t Jericho back here?”

  Buchanan sighed patiently, holding his hand up to calm her. “Take a seat. I was just explaining—”

  “No!” She folded her arms across her chest. “You’d better tell me how we could let this happen and why Jericho isn’t standing here right now.”

  Buchanan’s expression hardened. “Fisher, sit the hell down!”

  His voice boomed, catching Collins and Julie off-guard. She held his gaze a moment longer, then sat beside Collins.

  Buchanan took a moment to compose himself before speaking again.

  “Jericho is safe,” he said. “He and his team are in the presidential palace. No one is allowed near the airport right now, so none of our people are going anywhere. I want Jericho there because I trust him, and I know I can rely on him to get us some answers.”

  Julie nodded and looked away, hiding the embarrassment after her outburst.

  “I was just about to say, the only piece of intel he could get me so far was that there was only one gunshot.”

  Collins frowned. “How can that be right? We saw four people drop on that stage.”

  Buchanan nodded. “I know.”

  “Four people from one bullet? That’s not possible.”

  “I know,” he said again.

  Julie looked up. “So, you’ve spoken to Jericho?”

  Buchanan’s expression softened again. “I did, last night. Briefly.”

  “How is he, Moses?”

  “As you would expect. He’s mad as hell. He feels guilty. Somehow responsible. This happened on his watch. You know the man probably better than any of us. You know he won’t rest until this is solved.”

  “No, he won’t.”

  Buchanan shrugged. “Another reason I’m glad he’s there right now.”

  Collins shifted in his seat. “Can we talk about what happened there, exactly? I mean, the laws of physics being broken aside for a moment, the president just got taken out. We got any idea who’s behind it?”

  Julie looked at Buchanan, intrigued.

  Buchanan shook his head. “No clue. Jericho’s money is on the military.”

  “Makes sense,” said Julie, “given why we were there in the first place.”

  “I agree,” said Buchanan. “Jericho said General Guerrero had publicly opposed President Herrera since he took office. He also said Guerrero has almost two-thirds of the country’s armed forces in his pocket.”

  “Jesus…” muttered Collins.

  “So, he thinks this was the general’s power play? To start a coup?”

  Buchanan shrugged. “Based on conversations he had with Herrera the day before, that’s the working theory right now. Only problem is that Guerrero had most of the military on base, awaiting orders. No sign of any movement. The only soldiers on the ground were the ones loyal to the president, and they’ve been working alongside our own troops since we first went over there.”

  Collins brushed the back of his hand against the rough stubble on his face. “If it wasn’t this general, then who? Seems a bit coincidental for all this not to be related somehow.”

  “I completely agree,” said Buchanan. “I don’t believe in coincidences. I doubt the universe is that lazy. But until we know more, we have to sit tight and wait for Jericho to investigate.”

  He glanced sideways at the light still blinking on his phone.

  “Do you need to take that?” asked Julie, noticing the look of defeat and apprehension on his face.

  “Yes,” he replied wearily. “But I also had to take the million other urgent calls in the last hour. It can wait.”

  Collins and Julie exchanged a worried look.

  “Ah, boss, I don’t mean to speak out of turn or nothing,” said Collins, “but when did ya last get some shut-eye?”

  Buchanan smiled. “I don’t have time to sleep, I’m afraid.”

  Julie knew he was tired. She figured it had been at least a full day since he slept. Probably longer. She also fully comprehended the gravity of what had happened. A world leader being killed was a global event. The fact it happened while Jericho was in charge of the protection detail was bad enough, but there was something else weighing on him. Something he wasn’t saying.

  “What aren’t you telling us?” she asked firmly.

  Buchanan held her gaze for a moment, then let out a heavy breath and looked away.

  “Many things,” he said, “but they’re not your problem to worry about.”

  “Due respect, boss,” said Collins, “but we’re the only operatives on ya payroll who report directly to ya good self. If it ain’t our problem, who else is gonna help?”

  Buchanan looked at them both in turn, then rolled his eyes.

  “This situation is worse than you both realize,” he said.

  “Worse how?” asked Julie.

  “The political fallout of President Herrera’s death affects more than just Paluga.”

  “The U.S.?”

  “It affects GlobaTech. It happened while he was under our protection. It’s not our fault. We know that. Jericho covered every possible eventuality with the information he had. No one could have anticipated this happening.”

  “So, what’s the problem?” asked Collins.

  “GlobaTech is more than just private security. We’re the peacekeepers for the United Nations—a job offered to us by our own government with the full support of every member nation. For the last three years, it’s been our job to maintain peace and security across the globe. And we just lost the president of another country on our watch. Like it or not, agree with it or not… someone needs to be blamed, and right now that someone is us.”

  “You can’t be serious?” said Julie.

  Buchanan pointed to the flashing light on his phone. “That call is to summon me to a hearing before the U.N. Security Council, which will involve our own secretary of state. I imagine our ability to act on behalf of the U.N. will be called into question.”

  “They would take the peacekeeping gig away from us because of this?” asked Collins.

  Buchanan shrugged. “It’s a strong possibility, yes. And if they do, our image sinks lower than Hell itself. That happens, we lose shareholders, we lose contracts… we lose our ability to help people.”

  “Are you saying they could shut down GlobaTech completely over this?” asked Julie.

  “I’m saying I’m preparing for the worst-case scenario right now.”

  “Jesus…”

  “So, what can we do?” asked Collins.

  “For now, I need you to—” Raised voices sounded outside. Buchanan frowned, staring at the door. “What the hell is going on out there?”

  He stood and moved to the door. As he opened it, the muffled shouting became clearer.

  “…and I said you can’t just barge in there,” Kim asserted. “I don’t care who you are. Mr. Buchanan is in a meeting and—”

  She stopped and turned when she realized Buchanan was standing in the doorway.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  Kim sighed and pointed to the man standing in front of her, dressed in GlobaTech tactical gear. He was tall and disheveled. Dust was engrained on his face. His eyes had dark rims of fatig
ue around them.

  “This gentleman marched in here demanding to see you,” she began. “I tried explaining you were busy and that we have a crisis going on, but he won’t leave.” She turned to him. “This isn’t the time to put your job at risk.”

  The man didn’t say anything. He simply turned to Buchanan, staring at him imploringly.

  Buchanan took a deep breath. “It’s okay, Kim. Just take it easy.” He looked at the GlobaTech operative. “What’s so urgent, son?”

  The operative relaxed. “Mr. Buchanan, sir. Mr. Stone sent me. Told me not to stop for anything or anyone until I see you.”

  Buchanan was taken aback. “Jericho sent you? You just got here from Paluga? How?”

  “I was… I was there, sir. I was standing with Mr. Stone when it all happened. He told me to get back here at all costs. I left straight away. Managed to hop a flight before everything was locked down.”

  “Jesus. Step inside, please.” He moved aside to let the man through. He looked out at Kim and smiled. “You’re a good girl, Ms. Mitchell.”

  Her cheeks flushed as she took her seat.

  Back inside his office, he moved behind his desk and stared at the operative, who was standing awkwardly behind Collins and Julie.

  “What’s your name?” asked Buchanan.

  “Jones, sir. Killian Jones.”

  “Okay, Mr. Jones. Quit siring me and tell me why you’re here.”

  Jones stepped between Collins and Julie, reached into his pocket, and placed an object on the desk. Everyone leaned forward and stared at it, bewildered.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Collins.

  “That’s what remains of the bullet that killed the president of Paluga and three of my colleagues,” said Jones matter-of-factly.

  “That’s not a bullet,” said Julie. “That’s a goddamn torpedo.”

  The bullet had maintained most of its shape. It was maybe four inches long. Usually, bullets were small and made up just the tip of the overall ammunition round. This was huge by comparison. Its surface was almost mirrored, made from silver instead of copper or bronze.

  Buchanan picked it up carefully, examining it in his hand.

  “And this was the only bullet you found?” he asked.

  Jones nodded. “There was only one shot. No doubt. I saw Mr. Stone pick that out of… out of someone’s head.”

  Buchanan looked up, suddenly aware of where the bullet he was now holding had been. He placed it carefully on the desk.

  “Jones, I can’t tell you how important it is that you made it here,” he said. “Thank you.”

  Jones nodded. “Just doing my job, sir. Mr. Buchanan. Truth be told, I wish I were still over there. I feel useless now that I can’t help.”

  “Oh, believe me, you’ve helped more than you know. I want you to take the rest of the day, okay? Shower, sleep, whatever you have to do. Tomorrow, I want you back here. You want to help, I’ll put you to work.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Buchanan. That means a lot to me.” He looked at Collins and Julie in turn. “It’s an honor to meet you both, honestly. Mr. Stone spoke highly of you.”

  Julie smiled politely. Collins nodded his thanks.

  Jones left the office. Silence fell on the three of them as they stared, transfixed by the bullet.

  “Have either of you ever seen anything like this before?” asked Buchanan.

  “Nothing even close,” said Julie.

  Collins picked it up. “Not me. But look here…” He tilted it to show the base of the bullet. “What does that look like to you?”

  He pointed at three small prongs of metal, arranged to look like fan blades.

  Julie leaned in, squinting. “I don’t know. If it were anything else, I’d say propellors.”

  Collins nodded. “Me too. I think ya might’ve been spot on when ya called it a torpedo, Jules.” He looked up at Buchanan. “This is cutting edge shit, boss. Is this… is this one of ours?”

  Buchanan shook his head. “We aren’t working on anything that even resembles that thing. Most of our R and D right now is quality of life tech. We’re not developing any new weapons systems. Whoever produced this, it wasn’t us.”

  Julie got to her feet. “I say we take it to our quartermaster. If anyone can dissect this thing, it’ll be Devon.”

  Buchanan thought for a moment. “Agreed. But do it quietly. You two and no one else. Make sure he understands the delicacy of the situation. Right now the three of us, Jericho, and Mr. Jones are the only people who know about this bullet. With the exception of our quartermaster, I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Well, it’s not just us, is it?” said Collins.

  “How do you mean?”

  “There’s at least one more person who knows about it… the person who fired it.”

  “And whoever hired them, presumably,” added Julie.

  Buchanan nodded. “One thing at a time.” He pointed at the bullet. “Find out what that thing is. Report back to me the moment you have answers.”

  He sat back in his seat wearily.

  “You need us for anything else?” asked Julie.

  He shook his head and pointed to the flashing light on his phone. “No… I think I’ll be heading to New York in a few minutes.”

  Collins passed the bullet to Julie, who shoved it into her pocket. The two of them nodded a silent goodbye and left the office.

  The door closed behind them. Buchanan picked up the receiver, took a long, deep breath, and pressed the flashing button.

  “This is Moses Buchanan…”

  9

  Collins and Julie walked briskly across the compound, only pausing for the small transport vehicles that whizzed by. A line of armed operatives, two people deep, stood across the main entrance, staring out at the sea of media that crowded on the other side of the barrier.

  “No wonder the traffic’s backed up,” said Julie. “Look at them out there. Goddamn vultures.”

  Collins shrugged. “Aye. Nothing like a good story to bring out the crazies, eh?”

  They walked on, heading for the larger of the two armory buildings that stood alone against the far perimeter wall. Once inside, they took the second corridor on the left, following it to the testing range. They stepped out onto the walkway that overlooked the area and scanned the floor, looking for Devon.

  After a moment, Collins nudged Julie’s arm and pointed away to his left. “There he is.”

  They made their way down the stairs and over to a weapons testing station. Devon Green was standing in the middle of a semi-circle of GlobaTech personnel, apparently lecturing them about the rifle he was holding.

  “…reduced the recoil by eighteen percent. It’ll still give you a firm kick, sure, but keep your firing to short bursts, and you should maintain better overall control.” He looked up as they approached. “Miss Fisher, Mr. Collins, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

  Julie smiled politely. Devon was wearing GlobaTech fatigues with an urban camouflage design—a mixture of blues and grays—along with his trademark backward baseball cap. Despite not being much older than herself, flecks of white were shining through his styled beard, highlighted against his dark skin.

  “We need your expertise,” she said. “With your knowledge, it hopefully won’t take up too much time.”

  Devon laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Lay it on me.”

  Collins looked at the men who were standing nearby. “Uh, guys, give us some privacy, will ya?”

  The men nodded without question and took their leave. Devon watched them go, then turned back and looked at Julie and Collins in turn. His expression hardened a little.

  “This must be serious,” he said.

  “I’m afraid it is,” replied Julie. “We’re here at the request of Moses Buchanan, and what we’re about to discuss is classified beyond your wildest dreams. Breathe a word of this to anyone besides the two of us, and you’re done here. Understand?”

  Devon straightened and subconsciously adju
sted his cap. He knew formality was sometimes required at GlobaTech and that Julie meant nothing personal by it. But he could tell they were here for serious business, and he acted accordingly.

  “Of course,” he said. “Whatever you’re about to say goes with me to the grave. What do you need?”

  The three of them huddled around a worktop.

  Julie took out the bullet and placed it down for Devon to see. “We need your help identifying this.”

  Devon leaned in slowly, his mouth hanging open. “What in the world is that?”

  “That,” said Collins, pointing to it, “is the bullet that killed the president of Paluga and three of our guys yesterday.”

  Devon looked up at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Deadly,” said Julie. “Ever seen anything like it?”

  He shook his head. “Not once in my thirty years around weapons. You got the others?”

  “The other bullets?” Julie looked at him. “There aren’t any.”

  He picked it up and delicately examined it. “You’re saying this one bullet took out four people?”

  “We are.”

  “How?”

  “We’re hoping ya can tell us,” said Collins. “We need ya to reverse-engineer that monstrosity, tell us how it works, who made it, who fired it, and how.”

  Devon stood straight and let out a heavy breath, scratching absently at the back of his neck. “I mean… I can take a look, but honestly, this is beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Julie. “Same goes for everyone else. But we’re going to need whatever you can give us, like, now. We’re on the clock here.”

  He laughed exasperatedly. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

  “Nothing I don’t think you can handle,” she said, smiling.

  Devon rolled his eyes and took out a small magnifying lens from his pocket. It looked similar to a loupe, like jewelers use to appraise diamonds. He held it to his eye, then held the bullet up to it.

  “Okay, let’s see what we have here…” He examined it intently for a couple of minutes, then lowered the lens and looked at Julie. “This thing shouldn’t exist.”

  “Is that a moral argument?” asked Collins, half-smiling.

  “My job doesn’t have much room for morals, Mr. Collins. No, I mean as a feat of engineering, this thing shouldn’t be possible. At best, this is… I dunno… theoretical propulsion technology. You’re more likely to see this on a drawing board at NASA than anywhere else.”