Black Wolf: A Dreamland Thriller

by Dale Brown

  “Get me down safe. Safely!” he yelled as the robot helicopter flew southward. “Put me down in one piece. One fucking piece!”

  “Unknown command.”

  “Put me down!” yelled Nuri. “And learn how to understand profanity, you goddamned son of a bitch!”

  74

  Old State Castle

  The Black Wolf looked at the screen on the phone he had just answered. Instead of numbers, the call displayed as a series of D’s, something he’d never seen before.

  Obviously an encryption.

  The voice had been American. And it had asked for Zen.

  Zen.

  The word was familiar in a strange way. Of course he knew the word and what it meant, but there was something else. The association with a person…

  Zen.

  A memory nagged at him from behind the wall that closed off the present from the past.

  Zen.

  The man in the wheelchair.

  “One of the prisoners claims to need the bathroom,” said Blue over the radio.

  “Too bad.”

  “The minister is late,” said Gray from out in the hall. “Has there been a problem?”

  “His plane has landed,” said the Black Wolf. “We must have patience.”

  He felt himself shaking. His energy running down. He reached into his pocket for another vial of the drug. It was his last. Ordinarily he would save it for the end of the mission, to carry him through, but he suddenly felt cold.

  He broke off the top and drank.

  Zen pounded on the door.

  “Hey, I gotta go!” he said.

  “Shut up in there or I will shoot you,” said the man outside.

  “I don’t think they’re going to play,” said Lynch. “We need a new idea.”

  “The idea is fine—we just have to push it further.” Zen turned to the girl. “You know what to do, right?”

  She nodded.

  “You’re not scared?”

  “Scared, yes,” she said. “But we do it.”

  Zen wheeled himself closer to the door.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “Tell your boss out in the cafeteria there that Zen Stockard wants to talk to him. Major Stockard. Tell him we used to work together.”

  “What are you yelling about?”

  “Zen Stockard. Tell Black that Zen Stockard wants to speak with him.”

  75

  Czech Republic

  If there was one thing Breanna hated, it was being interrupted by a phone call.

  Her phone buzzed as the minister’s car pulled out of the airport. She could feel her face shading with embarrassment as it continued to ring. She didn’t want to insult the minister or the general by answering, but the sound was incessantly loud.

  “That might be important,” said the minister finally. “I won’t be offended.”

  “I’m terribly sorry,” said Breanna. She took the phone out of her pocketbook. “Ordinarily it just rolls over to my voice mail, but whoever is calling is very insistent.”

  She glanced at the screen as she took it from her purse.

  A row of D’s indicated it was from Danny.

  “Do you mind if I take this?” she asked. “It’s one of my people. He wouldn’t call unless it was important.”

  “Please.”

  “Breanna,” she said into the phone.

  “Bree—where are you?” asked Danny.

  “We just left the airport. We’re on our way to the Old State Castle.”

  “Don’t go there!” Danny was practically shouting. “I just called Zen—something is up there.”

  “With Zen?”

  “Somebody else answered his phone.”

  “Maybe it was Caroline, my niece. She’s traveling with him to watch Teri.”

  “Bree, we think the Wolves may be in Prague.”

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  Breanna killed the line, then dialed Zen’s number. She went to voice mail. She pulled her niece’s cell phone number up from the phone book and tried her. She got her voice mail as well.

  “Caroline, this is Bree. Please call me right away.” She hit the End call button. The minister and general were looking at her. “I—there may be a problem at the castle,” she told them. “We’re having trouble contacting my husband there. And my niece.”

  She hit the redial and called Caroline again. This time she picked up.

  “Aunt Bree, what time is it there?”

  “Caroline, is Uncle Jeff there?”

  “He’s in the next room,” said Caroline.

  “Could you go get him?”

  “I think he’s sleeping.”

  “He’s always up by now, hon. Could you knock on the door?”

  “Hang on.”

  “Wait—is Teri there?”

  “Yes. She’s sleeping.”

  “No I’m not,” said a voice in the background.

  “Let me talk to her while you check for Jeff. Hurry, please.”

  “OK.”

  “Hi, Teri. How are you sweetheart?”

  “Mama! How are you?”

  “I’m fine, honey. How did you sleep?”

  “Very good.”

  The car, meanwhile, had arrived at the gate. The general leaned forward and, using English, asked the guard if there had been any trouble.

  The guard told him there hadn’t.

  They drove through the gate, heading around the main part of the castle toward the hospitality area.

  “He’s not answering the door, Aunt Bree,” said Caroline.

  “Is the Do Not Disturb sign on his doorknob?”

  “No.”

  “Which room are you in?”

  “Four B.”

  “I want you to stay there with Teri, OK?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Breanna slowly. “Just stay there. I’ll call you right back.”

  She hung up the phone and turned to the minister. By now she was sure he and the general were wondering if she was crazy and paranoid, or just the latter.

  “The person you’re supposed to meet—could you call them?” Breanna asked. “See if they’re OK?”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “My husband’s not in his room, and someone strange answered his phone,” she said. “There have been threats against NATO ministers.”

  “I’m not a NATO minister,” said Dr. Gustov, with the slightest hint of regret.

  “I’m sorry, but could you please check?” asked Breanna.

  He took out his phone and dialed. The contractor answered on the second ring. They spoke for a moment in English, then he hung up.

  “He’s waiting downstairs,” said the minister. “He says there’s nothing wrong.”

  “I see,” said Breanna, trying to stifle the uneasy feeling in her stomach. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  76

  Old State Castle

  The Black Wolf thumbed the End call button.

  “They’re entering the courtyard now,” he said over the radio. “Be prepared.”

  “Black Wolf, one of the prisoners says you know him,” Blue told him. “He says his name is Zen Stockard. Major Zen Stockard.”

  Zen.

  “I don’t know a Zen Stockard,” said the Black Wolf.

  As the words left his mouth, a piece of a memory came back, a sharp shard striking the soft flesh of his brain.

  He was in the sea… wet… someone was talking to him over a radio.

  Zen.

  Zen?

  Zen heard footsteps coming toward the door.

  “What’d he say?” he demanded.

  “That he doesn’t know you. And that if you shout once more, I am to shoot you. And maybe I will shoot you now just for the pleasure.”

  “There’s no answer in the restaurant kitchen,” Breanna told the minister. “There should be an answer.”

  “Maybe they’re seeing to other guests,” said the general.

  Major Krufts, Genera
l Josef, and Dr. Gustov got out of the car. Breanna, not sure whether to feel foolish or not, got out as well.

  “I wonder if I could attend the sales presentation along with you,” she said, leaning back into the car. “Maybe we might be interested.”

  “In Russian upgrades?” asked General Josef.

  “We’re always trying to keep on track with what’s going on,” said Breanna.

  The general frowned, but the minister remained polite. “I don’t see why not,” he said. “If they will sell to us, they would sell to you. Money is money these days.”

  “My husband should come, too,” said Breanna. “He’s on the Senate Appropriations Committee. They have to approve purchases.”

  It was a white lie—Zen had nothing to do with appropriations, at least not directly.

  “Of course,” said Minister Gustov.

  “Could you wait a minute while I go up and get him?”

  “We can go as well,” said Gustov.

  “Why not?” said the general. “I would like to meet your husband. I have many questions for him.”

  “I would like to meet him as well,” said the minister.

  “Good. Then we’ll all go,” said Breanna, trying to hide the relief in her voice.

  “They’re moving inside. A woman is with them,” said Green, who was watching from the back of the keep. He was dressed as one of the security guards. “One other officer is with the minister and the general—there are four in all.”

  “Do you have a shot on the minister?” the Black Wolf asked.

  “Negative—not clean enough to guarantee.”

  “Stay back.”

  There were always wrinkles. One needed to be patient.

  “In the lobby,” said White. “Four: three men, one woman. Going to the elevator.”

  It would be over soon.

  Breanna noticed a man watching them from the corner of the lobby as they walked in. They went straight to the elevator, where an attendant was waiting.

  “Please close the door right away,” she told the elevator operator.

  “What floor?” he asked.

  Breanna waited until the door closed before answering. “Fourth. The man at the other end of the hall. Is he part of the hotel security force?”

  “Could be,” said the elevator operator. “I didn’t see him.”

  “Have you been here all morning?”

  “Since four o’clock,” said the man, a lot more cheerfully than she would have expected.

  “Did a man in a wheelchair use the elevator?”

  “Oh, yes. I took him down for coffee about an hour ago.”

  Breanna dialed Zen’s phone as soon as they stepped out of the elevator. It began to ring just as she reached Teri and Caroline’s room.

  Someone picked up on the third ring but said nothing.

  “Jeff?” she said. “Zen? Zen? It’s Bree. Honey?”

  She could hear breathing on the other end, but not Zen.

  It wasn’t him. Was it?

  “Zipper me if it’s you,” she said.

  It was an expression pilots used, or at least they had back when she flew combat. It meant to click the mike button or hit a key a few times to acknowledge, rather than talking.

  The line clicked off.

  “Mama!” shouted Teri, opening the door. “How did you get here?”

  “Everybody inside the room,” said Breanna sharply, turning to the startled minister and general. “Someone is holding Zen prisoner in the restaurant.”

  “They took the elevator upstairs, not down,” White told the Black Wolf. “Fourth floor.”

  Zen.

  Zen.

  “You want me to go up and see where they are?” asked White.

  “Have they seen you already?” the Black Wolf asked.

  “The woman made eye contact in the lobby.”

  “Hold your position. Green, come inside. Go to the fourth floor. See what’s happening.”

  “On my way.”

  “Blue. The man who asked for me—bring him here,” said the Black Wolf. “There’s something familiar about the name.”

  The door to the storeroom opened abruptly.

  “Who’s Zen?” said the man who’d been watching them.

  “I am.”

  “You in the wheelchair?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Come out.”

  “I need some help.”

  The girl moved forward quickly to push his chair, just as they had planned. The guard reached in and shoved her back.

  I can grab his gun, thought Zen. But by then it was too late—the man had stepped back, out of reach.

  “None of you move, or you all die,” said the man roughly. “Wheel yourself.”

  Zen put his hands on the wheels and pushed out slowly, as if he were trying to heave himself up a steep hill.

  “I could really use some help,” he started to say.

  Before he could finish the sentence, the man put his foot in the back of the chair and shoved it with tremendous force. The wheels flew from Zen’s hands, and the chair rode straight across the kitchen, crashing into one of the counters. It rebounded backward, rolling nearly all the way to the man.

  “Move yourself,” growled the man.

  Stunned, Zen put his hands back on the wheels, starting slowly. He wasn’t acting now; the ride and crash had dazed him.

  The man was big, but even so, his strength seemed disproportionate.

  “Go,” he snarled. “On your own.”

  Zen wheeled forward, trying to think of a Plan B.

  “We need security in the building right away,” Breanna told Danny. “I think they have Zen.”

  “I’m zero-five from the airport. I’ll have the Czech people over there ASAP,” Danny told her. “What room are you in?”

  “Four B. We’re in the northeast corner.”

  “All right.”

  Breanna turned off the phone. Minister Gustov and the general had skeptical looks on their faces.

  “I’m not some crazy female,” she told them. “I’m not having a panic attack. You know who I am. You know what I’ve been through.”

  “That’s the only reason we’re still here,” said the general.

  “I don’t know,” said Gustov. He looked as if he was going to leave.

  “Listen…” Breanna glanced at Caroline and Teri. She didn’t want them to hear, but there was nowhere for them to go. “The CIA has been tracking a group hired to disrupt the NATO meeting.”

  “That’s in Kiev in two days,” replied the general.

  “Yes, but if they assassinated you here, that might achieve the same goal. The Russians would do that, don’t you think?”

  “The Russians are capable of anything,” said Minister Gustov.

  “Then wait for a few minutes more.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Don’t answer it,” said Breanna.

  Danny Freah leaned forward in the car as the taxi pulled up to the Old State Castle gate.

  “Who’s your commander?” he shouted.

  The guard stared at him. Danny dropped fifty euros—about three times the fare—on the front seat of the cab and climbed out.

  “Shut the gates,” he told the guard. “There’s an emergency in the hotel area. I need two men to come with me.”

  “What? Who are you?” sputtered the man.

  “Danny Freah. I’m with the American senator’s security team. We think he’s being held hostage.”

  The phone inside the guardroom rang. It was the guard’s commander, ordering him to shut down all access to the facility. Help was on the way.

  “There are two men near the museum,” said the guard, pointing. “I’ll call and they’ll meet you.”

  Zen wheeled slowly toward the room divider, calculating that the longer he took, the more time the others would have to come up with a backup plan.

  He was hoping one would occur to him as well, but ideas weren’t exactly popping into his head. H
e felt a little like he had the first time he rose to give a speech in the Senate—not just tongue-tied, but completely brain frozen.

  “Who are you?” said a voice in English from behind the thick barrier.

  Zen didn’t answer—he couldn’t. He concentrated on wheeling forward, around the barrier.

  The Black Wolf stood with his arms folded across his chest. He held an MP–5 machine gun in his left hand, curled under his arm.

  Was this Stoner? Zen looked at his face. It had been so long since he’d seen him.

  “Who are you?” asked the man again.

  “Zen Stockard.” The words came out haltingly. “Jeff.”

  “I don’t know you.”

  Zen’s brain unfroze. There was something in the snap of the answer—the sharp finality and sureness of tone—that told Zen it was Stoner.

  “Mark. Do you remember? In the Pacific? You were with Bree. Remember the beer we had in the hospital? I smuggled them inside in my wheelchair?”

  The man’s face didn’t change. But that only convinced Zen all the more.

  Stoner had always seemed older to him, even though they were roughly the same age. Now he was much younger. He seemed almost not to have aged—his cheeks had hollowed, but his brow was smooth and his eyes unwrinkled. His hair was dappled gray, but it was full and thick.

  “What happened?” Zen asked. He wheeled forward a foot and a half. “What happened after the helicopter crashed?”

  “Quiet,” commanded the man, touching his earpiece to hear a radio transmission.

  “This is security,” said the man outside the door to Teri and Caroline’s room. His English was heavily accented. “We have an important matter to discuss.”

  “What matter is that?” Breanna demanded.

  “There are reports of men with guns in the hotel,” said the man.

  “We haven’t seen them.”

  “I have been sent to protect you,” said the man.

  “We’re fine.”

  Major Krufts was desperately searching the room for something to use as a weapon. Breanna pointed to the lamp near the bed. But it was clamped to the side table.

  The defense secretary and general were standing next to her. Caroline had taken Teri into the bathroom and closed the door.

  “My orders are to protect you,” said the man.

  “Great.” Breanna saw that the latch to the door had not been closed. She moved toward it quickly. “Stand guard in the hall.”