[Jack Emery 01.0] The Foundation

by Steve P Vincent

  “Good enough, I suppose.” Brenner laughed. “Quite amazing how deep this all goes, though. It’s some serious shit you’ve uncorked.”

  Jack couldn’t disagree. “Given the choice, I’d have preferred to be left out of it all. But once I pulled the first thread, her whole dress unraveled, and I couldn’t walk away.”

  “Why not?” Brenner scoffed. “To use your analogy, just because a woman is undressed in front of you, doesn’t mean you need to sleep with her.”

  Jack laughed, and the dark cloud hanging over his mood lifted. “I can’t resist the lure of a beautiful woman.”

  Brenner opened his mouth to reply, but Jack heard nothing but a boom. Before his mind could process what was happening, Brenner’s blood showered over him. Jack froze, until he heard a second boom, as Vaughn fired another shot into Brenner’s skull. Jack dived to the floor and climbed under the table. Vaughn appeared to be in no hurry, slowly walking past Brenner’s lifeless body toward him. The agent seemed as calm as the man in Chen’s basement, but Jack had no police cruiser to save him this time.

  Jack had nowhere to go as Vaughn bent down and peered at him. “Mr Emery, you’ve caused a whole lot of problems for a whole lot of people.”

  Jack’s fear had gone, replaced by sheer and utter disbelief—and rage. “After all of this, you’re the one who’s going to get me? Just fucking do it.”

  Jack watched as the barrel of the pistol inched up. A wave of thoughts rushed through his mind, but he couldn’t pin down any particular one as he waited for the inevitable. He wondered if he’d hear the shot or feel anything before it was over. Then his eyes widened as he saw a pair of legs run toward Vaughn.

  Celeste. In his fear and anger, he’d forgotten about her.

  She leaped and landed on Vaughn and the gun fired. Jack crawled as fast as he could from under the table. He was too late. Vaughn collapsed to the ground, a panting Celeste sitting on him and a steak knife protruding from his skull. Jack threw the gun away from Vaughn then struggled over to Celeste and hugged her.

  Jack grabbed Vaughn’s gun, then the cell phone in his pocket rang. “Hello?”

  “McGhinnist speaking, we’ve found her, Jack. We’re moving in at any moment.”

  “Good. One of your agents just tried to shoot me.”

  There was a pause. “Which one?”

  “Vaughn.”

  “Fucking hell. He must have been one of Dominique’s moles.”

  “Yep. And Brenner is dead.”

  There was another slight pause. “I’ll get some more people up to you. Until then, take his gun and trust my other agents to keep you safe.”

  “Already taken care of the gun part.” Jack was happy to have a weapon in his hands. “Where is she?”

  “Dominique? An apartment in Baltimore. Off the grid.”

  “So this is it?” Jack held his breath, not willing to believe it just yet.

  “Yep, we’ve got the place surrounded. There’s a couple of large-looking dudes with her though. But we’ll get her. Just wanted you to know.”

  Jack smiled and sighed with relief. “What about the rest of them? Doesn’t seem like that particular snake will be killed by just chopping off the head.”

  “We’ve already beat it over the head a few times with a shovel. Their funds are frozen and we’re rolling up their network. There’ll be plenty of mop up, but this will just about finish it. We’ll slice the organization into a million pieces and bring as many as we can rustle up into custody. I’ll see you soon.”

  The line went dead. Jack gestured at Celeste to get Brenner’s weapon. They resumed their hug as a pair of agents opened the door and entered. They had weapons raised and scanned the room, but could clearly see the damage was done. He spent the next few minutes explaining the ambush, and to their credit they let him keep the weapon.

  It was over.

  Michelle lifted the glass to her mouth and took a long pull of the whisky. She savored the burn of the liquid as it coursed down her throat and into the pit of her stomach. It temporarily replaced the empty feeling she’d had for the whole day, once she’d started to get reports of Foundation cells being assaulted by the FBI. The news was worse than she could have imagined.

  Some of her people had been arrested, some killed. Losses were heavy and the Foundation was shattered. Scorched earth hadn’t worked and there wasn’t much left to save. She’d hoped to make a deal with Kurzon to prevent the complete collapse of the organization, but it hadn’t happened. Her only consolation was that she was still breathing.

  She pulled the glass away from her mouth and considered the last of the beautifully colored liquid, cut with just a splash of water. She threw it back with one flick of her wrist. She felt a momentary pang of regret. It was a shame to leave such a fine bottle here. Like the rest of the stuff in the secret apartment she kept in Baltimore, it’d make some FBI agent a very happy man.

  She put the glass down on the table. “Time to go, boys.”

  She looked up to Andrei, who stood by the door. She stood as he started to turn the handle, but he didn’t get the chance to open the door. There was the sound of cracking timber, and she took a step back as the door swung inward.

  “They’re here!” Erik’s shout was barely audible over the explosion near the door. “Get down, Michelle!”

  Michelle was surprised but reacted instantly. She started into a run for the other side of the room. Erik, who’d been standing by the window, already had his weapon out and had upturned her oak dining table for cover. He shouted something in Czech to his brother as she grabbed the hand he held out for her. She jumped over the table and joined him behind the impromptu shelter.

  Several federal agents had already entered the room. She didn’t need to see the lettering emblazoned on their vests to know they were FBI. She doubted they were pushovers, either. If Bill McGhinnist had enough balls to storm her hideout in Baltimore, he’d have sent his best crew, armed with the best gear and with backup on call. She ducked back behind the table.

  “Federal agents! Give it up!”

  They got their answer when the first shot boomed. Andrei was only able to get a single shot off before he was gunned down by a volley of return fire. That left Erik as the one thing standing between her and the agents. As she heard the chattering rumble of Erik’s TeC-9 SMG, she reached over and pulled the M9 Beretta from the back of his pants, figuring he wouldn’t need it while he was firing the machine pistol.

  She looked over the table and extended her arm as shots boomed through the small apartment. She squeezed the trigger on the pistol several times and smiled with satisfaction as one of the agents fell, clutching his chest. He probably had a vest on, but it was enough to sting and take him out of the fight. She ducked back down.

  Her situation was dire. She’d miscalculated the speed at which the FBI could get to her apartment. She’d wanted to clear out a few things and share one last drink with Erik and Andrei, but now they were here. Her choices were fight it out and die, surrender and go to prison, or try to escape. She didn’t like any option.

  But if she was to live, there was no going back for the Foundation, despite the success of her plan. She was a free agent, but she was determined to try. That meant getting far away from here, probably to the south, where she could regroup and consider her options.

  As if Erik was reading her mind, she felt a pat on her backside. She looked at him and noticed tears in his eyes. The brothers had been close. He jerked his head toward the window. Her eyes widened, but he nodded. She knew him well enough not to protest his stupid chivalry, let alone when under fire. She nodded then raised her head over the table, squeezing off a few more shots. Without further thought she dropped and scurried toward the window. She heard bullets whiz over her head, but the shooters seemed more interested in silencing the return fire of Erik than in her.

  From the sound of it, he was still firing as she reached the window. She looked back briefly as he loaded a fresh magazine, his last, then nodd
ed and started to stand. Michelle got to her feet as Erik reached his full height and sprayed the far side of the room with his weapon.

  The window had been destroyed by the gunfight and she was halfway through when Erik’s fire stopped. A lesser team might have ducked against such a terrifying volley of fire, but this Bureau squad was better. They easily gunned him down. She grunted as she cut her hand on a jagged piece of glass, but didn’t stop. She hurried down one level of the fire escape. Looking down, she saw an agent at ground level aiming his weapon at her. A pair of bullets ricocheted off the steel railings. She moved quickly, raising her weapon and firing off a few shots, but from this range it was useless.

  When she spotted additional agents running to support the lone gunman, she decided she couldn’t continue this way. With a grunt she hurled herself through the window to another apartment. The glass shattered around her and she landed heavily on the floor, but after the quickest check, she decided she was still intact.

  She scrambled to her feet, glad that the apartment appeared to be empty. She raised the gun and moved quickly, half expecting a squad of agents to burst inside. Thoughts of escape and taking her vengeance on Jack Emery was all that kept her going, room by room. She reached the door to the apartment and opened it.

  The corridor was empty. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number she knew by heart as she ran down the hall. “This is Dominique, change of plans, bring the car around and be ready to move it. We’re under fire.”

  She reached the elevator and mashed the button. When it arrived, she rode it to the lobby and waited for the door to open, gun raised. Her mind was blank as she evaluated the threat—two Federal agents. She raised her weapon and fired at one. The agent went down as the other raised his weapon. They fired at about the same time.

  The agent fell, but Michelle felt something impact her arm. She looked down as she ran for the exit. There was blood and an entry wound in her forearm, but she’d have to worry about it later. There was no sign of more agents as she ran outside. She’d finally caught a break.

  She spotted the car and waved furiously at it. As it pulled up, she opened the door and dived in, the car never stopping. The driver gunned the engine as she took her seat and buckled in. She was safe, but if she was going to make good her escape, the driver would need to die at the end of the drive. She pressed her hand against her wound.

  She rested back in the seat and after a few blocks she started to feel safe. The car pulled up at a red light. She heard the glass on the car window shatter before she was deafened by a large bang and blinded by a million shining lights. Her head was spinning as she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to her ears.

  Her breathing quickened and her heart raced, even as her hearing started to return. She heard a gunshot, which meant her driver was dead. Then the door of the car open as she fumbled for her seatbelt and any chance at survival. Still too disoriented to move efficiently, she squealed as she sensed someone slide into the back seat beside her.

  “I surrender.” She could barely hear her own voice over the ringing in her ears. “If the Bureau wants me that badly, they’ve got me. Just don’t shoot.”

  “It’s not the FBI.”

  Fear gripped the pit of her stomach. While she still couldn’t see as a result of the flashbang grenade, she knew the voice. “Chen.”

  His hand grabbed her by the throat. She squealed again.

  “Where are my children? That is your only chance.” There was malice in his voice.

  She started to hyperventilate as her vision returned enough to see him. He wore a balaclava and there was no remorse in his eyes. Her mind scrambled for the answer he sought. The Foundation—or what was left of it—had his children, but she couldn’t think of where.

  Then it came to her. “Pennsylvania. They’re in Philly. The address is in my phone. Leave me alone and you’ll be with them in a few hours. But I need a deal.”

  “Give me the address and I’ll determine what deal you get.”

  She had no choice. “The code to the phone is three one five six. The address is in the notes.”

  She felt pressure under her chin. Something poking into it.

  This time she didn’t hear the bang.

  Chen stepped back and crouched down. A second later, the small charge on the door handle hissed and flared white hot. The lock was breached. Chen looked around one last time and pulled the door open. It swung back on its hinges with only the slightest whine. He moved inside swiftly but silently, his pistol raised and alert for any sound or movement. He closed the door and was alone in the dark.

  Using the information from Dominique’s phone, he’d tracked his children to this address in Philadelphia. While he was elated to be so close to them, he was also mindful to keep his thoughts on the job. His children were still missing and in danger, and the FBI and the Foundation were engaged in a dangerous cat-and-mouse game all across America. They could arrive at any second. That would be complicated.

  The first room in the office was dark, lit only by green emergency lighting. He could make out a reception area and front desk, but the room was remarkably sparse for any sort of active business. He didn’t give the area another thought as he moved cautiously to the only other door in the room, which he assumed led to the main office area. He put his hand on the door handle and turned it slowly. When it was half turned, he waited for any sound, but there was only silence. He opened the door and stepped through.

  He was faced with a long hallway with offices at evenly spaced intervals. At the end of the hall, slightly offset, was another room with no door. He moved quickly but as quietly as a snake toward it, checking each office for threats before moving on. Finally, he reached the doorless room at the end of the hallway.

  He felt his breath catch in his throat when he saw his daughter, blindfolded, sitting at a steel table in what must be the lunchroom. A few more steps and he saw his son. They were both blindfolded, with ankles shackled to the table leg and uneaten sandwiches in front of them.

  He raised his pistol an inch higher, but eased his finger away from the trigger. Despite his training, his emotions were on edge. He moved silently to the doorway, but kept to the side and out of sight. Finally, he saw the guard he knew had to be there. He doubted the overweight, middle-aged slob was among the Foundation’s elite.

  Chen moved quickly, his head clear of all thoughts except the threat to his children. He took four large steps between the door and the sleeping man, who was dozing with his chin on his chest and a newspaper in front of him. Chen placed the pistol against the man’s head and squeezed the trigger as easily as turning off his television.

  The pistol gave the slightest kick in response, which is more than the man in the chair offered. A fine spray of blood escaped from the other side of his head and only then did the children sense that someone else was in the room. They both raised their heads, and turned them from side to side, as if they expected their blindfolds to fall away.

  When he saw his daughter grab her little brother’s hand, Chen’s heart nearly broke.

  “Who’s there?” His daughter spoke only broken English. “Please don’t hurt us.”

  Chen crouched down to his knees and whispered, in case other threats were close by. “It’s your father. Stay calm, climb under the table and uncover your eyes.”

  His children settled instantly. He stayed in position while they climbed under the table and removed their blindfolds, though he couldn’t do anything about their shackles for the time being. Once they were in position, Chen removed the dead man’s pistol from its holster and took out the clip.

  There was one door left, on the opposite side to where he’d entered the break room. He moved toward the door and stood to the side. He put his hand on the door handle, but didn’t get the chance to turn it fully, because a high-caliber pistol barked, blowing two large holes in the door. If he’d been standing in front of it, he’d be dead.

  Chen’s mind screamed with options: either ad
vance through the door, fire back or find another way into the room.

  A voice called out from the other side of the door, “I know who you are. Take the kids, leave me alive and we all walk away. The key is on the hook.”

  Chen processed what felt like thousands of small bits of information in a single second. He’d completed a hostile entry under fire a number of times, and it held no fear for him, but he’d never done it with two frightened children—his children—half-a-dozen feet away from him.

  While every fiber of his being wanted to terminate the man on the other side of the door, he thought about the feeling he’d had when his father had been killed by the Chinese. He looked to his children, who stared up at him with wide eyes from under the table. The decision was an easy one.

  He ground his teeth and took a step back. “You have a deal.”

  It was time to go home.

  Epilogue

  The Chairwoman of the Pulitzer Prize Board, Elizabeth Harley, smiled as she read off the autocue. “And for Best Commentary, the award goes to Jack Emery, for his incisive blogs and columns on the spread of corruption by the Foundation for a New America. Please welcome him up to the stage.”

  Jack smiled as he stood. He buttoned his jacket and brushed down the front of his suit, making sure no loose breadcrumbs would ruin the shot of him collecting the award. That would be perfect, end the threat of the Foundation, only to come undone at the hands of a nefarious cobb loaf. He started his walk to the stage.

  Harley continued. “Jack’s stories led to hundreds of arrests across the United States by the FBI, and Interpol is still executing dozens of arrest warrants overseas. Among the arrests were many prominent Americans. Most importantly, his work exposed the link between the Foundation and the war with China, and their attempts to stack Congress.”

  As he walked toward the stage Celeste smiled up at him, Peter and Josefa patted him on the back and some of the others he knew at his table and in the room offered words of encouragement as he passed. In many ways, this was the end of the craziest year of his life.