Mark Midway Box Set: Mark One, Mark Two, Mark Three, and Mark Four

by John Hindmarsh

  Brian Winter had called Julian as requested by Schmidt, and he, Mark, and Julian had discussed Julian’s security needs. Winter had agreed to visit Julian personally the following afternoon, with two of his senior security advisers; they were flying in from New York. It sounded to Mark as though Winter was indeed an expert in his profession, and had resources available to assume overall responsibility for Julian’s security requirements. The plan was for Winter’s company to replace all of Julian’s existing team over a period of three or four weeks. In that initial discussion, Winter had built a high level of confidence with Julian, and Mark was looking forward to their meeting. He continued to explore the apartment, checking windows and exterior doors, the latter giving access to the elevator and to the rear fire escapes.

  The local FBI contact still had not phoned. The silence was worrying, given the positive reactions from both Oliver and MayAnn. He thought of calling Schmidt, but it was now well after midnight and he did not want to disturb him. He decided he would follow up with MayAnn in the morning and find out why there had been no contact.

  Julian had given Mark access to a small collection of handguns. It included his favorite brand, represented by a Glock 21, .45 caliber, with a ten-round magazine. Mark was carrying the weapon holstered, hopeful that he would not need to use it. At least, he thought, if there were intruders in the night, he would be able to provide them with an excuse to leave quickly. He continued his circuit, stopping occasionally to assess the night noises, building an awareness of what was normal for the apartment.

  The housekeeper, Paula, and Julian were, he hoped, all sound asleep. He was not tired; indeed, he could stay awake all night and still function effectively the next day; his need for sleep was minimal.

  Mark explored Julian’s study. If he were this Raoul Bergman, he thought, he would want to know details of Julian’s activities; he would have some way to monitor phone, computer, and general discussions with family or visitors. He sat at Julian’s desk and reviewed the layout of the room, trying to determine where he would place bugging devices or cameras. There were two or three locations where he would site a video camera. He stood and explored each, to ensure no one had bugged the study. There was nothing. Then he noticed the smoke detector.

  He found a small folding stepladder in the kitchen and carried it through to the study where he climbed up and examined the ceiling-mounted unit. He unclipped it from its fitting and removed it from the ceiling. Mark used a screwdriver from Julian’s desk to dismantle it, spreading the components over the desk. The unit contained, as far as he could determine, a sound or motion-activated video camera and recorder, with a Wi-Fi transmitter. Undoubtedly the unit had recorded and probably transmitted their conversation with Schmidt and MayAnn. The unit contained a high capacity memory card and he decided to upload the contents to Julian’s computer and examine whatever the camera had recorded. With any luck the unit had not yet transmitted files covering recent events; their various conversations through the night potentially would reveal far too much to whoever was spying on Julian Kelly.

  Mark booted up the computer and logged in, using Julian’s username and password that he had memorized when Julian had accessed his computer to view the image files earlier in the evening. He inserted the memory card into the CF slot on the side of the computer. After a few seconds the machine had uploaded the card’s contents and he scrolled through the MPEG-4 files until he found one with a time-stamp matching the end of the period when they had concluded their call with Schmidt and MayAnn. To his alarm, the file contained video and sound from when he had handed Julian the external drive, up to and including their telephone call to Schmidt.

  He breathed deeply. He hoped the downloads were scheduled and Bergman had the process timed for three or four a.m., when the network activity would be undetected. Other rooms in the apartment probably contained similar devices, and he would need to check each smoke detector and neutralize those that were spy cameras. Of course, if the downloads were scheduled and the process failed because he had dismantled the devices, it would immediately give Bergman notice that someone had detected his spying efforts. Mark could not delete files selectively—there would be too many hidden cameras recording his patrols around the apartment—so he had to stop all cameras, and take the chance Bergman would not immediately act against Julian or Paula Kelly. As a final step Mark switched off the wireless hub used by Julian’s computer—if the computer contained monitoring software, it would now not be able to transfer details.

  Mark frowned. He hated to admit it—he needed support from the FBI’s Boston office.

  ~~~

  Oliver Stewart was concerned. He had telephoned and messaged Scott Gilmore and so far had not been successful in making contact. There was, he thought, something wrong when a senior agent failed to respond to his EAD, irrespective of the time of day or night. The critical period, thought Oliver, was the next twenty-four hours. He knew of Midway’s abilities and was aware of the high esteem MayAnn and Schmidt held for him; however, he was one person, and from an FBI perspective, he was untrained.

  His concern bubbled into worry and he made more phone calls.

  As a result, Special Agent Charles Brown, the special agent who everyone called Gross—it was a comment on his size, not his looks—and two of his Gold Tactical Unit members were now preparing for a trip to Boston. They were booked on the 6:30 a.m. flight with Gross due at One Center Plaza by 8:30 a.m. and his two unit members at Julian Kelly’s apartment shortly after that time. He’d scheduled another four GTU members to catch the 7.30 a.m. flight; Oliver had directed two agents to support Gross, and the others were going to Kelly’s apartment. He thought seven GTU members should be able manage whatever issues could arise until he discovered from Gross what was happening in his Boston office.

  Oliver wondered if he should call Schmidt and then decided he and MayAnn were too far away to be of practical assistance, and his call would only create more concerns. He convinced himself that he had done everything possible, and went to bed for a restless sleep, his subconscious nagging him that he had not followed up on Gilmore.

  ***

  Chapter 8

  Bergman looked down at the FBI agent tied to the chair in front of him. They were in a disused manufacturing plant and he had made sure no one could see or hear them from outside the building. Gilmore’s arms were bound behind the back of the chair and his legs were roped to the front. He was bleeding from the nose and mouth. His right eye was swollen almost shut. A deep cut above his left eyebrow had stopped bleeding, and his face was streaked with congealing blood. Bergman threw a half-bucket of water over the agent, trying to rouse him from his pain-driven stupor. Gilmore raised his head, apparently heedless of the water dripping down his face and stared at the security chief.

  “I asked you a question,” said Bergman, “and I expect an answer, as a courtesy. Who is Midway?”

  “I don’t know anyone called Midway.” The agent uttered the words at an almost inaudible level as he barely retained consciousness.

  Bergman signaled his associate who was standing behind Gilmore. The man raised a length of flexible hydraulic hose he had salvaged from a wrecked engineering lathe and swung it hard against the agent’s head, across his right temple. The end of the hose flipped forward and cut into the corner of Gilmore’s right eye. He choked back a scream and his head fell forward, his eyes closed.

  “Again, my question is simple,” said Bergman, pushing at the agent’s shoulder. “Who is Midway?”

  “I told you.” Gilmore slowly raised his head. “I’ve never heard the name.” Speaking was a struggle; the agent was in extreme pain.

  “A number of people seem to know him. Your boss, for example. Also an agent by the name of MayAnn. And someone called Schmidt. They all know him, apparently very well. So, let’s try again. Who is Midway?”

  The agent shrunk away from his torturer. Bergman knew his victim was trying to anticipate the blow from the man behind him.

&
nbsp; “Just because Oliver knows someone, doesn’t mean I do. Don’t you realize—if I knew—I would’ve told you by now?” The new cut in the corner of Gilmore’s eye was leaking another stream of blood down the side of his face.

  “Midway shot two men last week. He killed them here, in the middle of Boston, while they were trying to kidnap someone. Why isn’t there a warrant out for his arrest?” Bergman signaled his associate again. He swung the hose from the other side, wrapping around Gilmore’s left temple, the end cutting into his forehead. This time the agent screamed. More blood streamed down his face.

  Gilmore struggled to speak. “They were shot by the bodyguard. There are witnesses—”

  “Bullshit. The bodyguard was dead when he hit the pavement. Midway was there; he dropped, grabbed the gun and shot the two kidnappers. When he was finished, he placed the gun back where he found it. So, again, who is Midway?”

  Gilmore said nothing, just shook his head. It seemed he had no answer to give to his torturers. Bergman and his companion had progressively increased the intensity of their brutal assault as they tried to obtain more information regarding Kelly and his visitor, Mark Midway. The FBI agent was unable to give them the answers they sought. Bergman was certain that the prisoner had fractured ribs and he was also coughing up blood. His thumb and at least two fingers on each hand were broken, and his head was a mess, swollen, and bleeding. Bergman suspected the agent had skull fractures as well. Violent blows with the hose had severely damaged the agent’s right eye, and recent blows had exacerbated its condition. It did not matter, Bergman and his fellow Russian were not intending to release Gilmore alive—they had taken no steps to hide their faces or disguise their appearances. Disappointingly, it seemed the FBI agent was unable to answer their questions.

  Bergman frowned down at his prisoner. “Either you’re a bigger fool than I thought or you don’t know anything about this Midway. A pity.” He looked at the man standing behind the chair. “Make sure he’s tied properly, we may need him later. Come on, we’ve things to do.”

  After making sure the agent was unable to move, the two men left, offering a threat if he tried to escape. Gilmore sagged in the chair; he was exhausted, pain-wracked and almost unconscious. He was in no condition to attempt to gain his freedom.

  ~~~

  The blue team moved into position with well-trained precision. Bergman was a Russian who Cerberus wanted to eliminate and the team had been monitoring him for a week. Now, they were anxious to rescue Gilmore. Two men from the unit approached the front door of the manufacturing plant, a third team member was located on the other side of the street, and their communications operator remained in their SUV. There was a sniper embedded in the warehouse opposite, where he had been on station for twenty-four hours. Now he was providing protection for the team members at the building entrance; later, when Bergman returned, he would be responsible for the final stage of their mission.

  The two men at the building entrance quickly overcame the door locks and pushed their way inside. One used a flashlight to navigate their way through the debris scattered across the floor. They discovered the FBI agent towards the rear of the building behind two aged and inoperative one hundred-ton presses.

  “Check for a pulse while I cut the ropes,” instructed the first man.

  His companion replied, “He’s alive. His pulse is erratic.”

  The first man activated his com-unit. “Send the ambulance—Gilmore’s in a bad way. We’ll carry him to the entrance.”

  The ambulance delivered its unconscious passenger to Boston Medical Center in South End; the hospital was one of the city’s top rated emergency centers. The ambulance driver informed the emergency admissions department that his casualty passenger was an FBI agent and as a result, Gilmore was rushed through the admissions process. The ambulance driver did not remain at the hospital and later, the blue team re-assembled at their base where they waited patiently for an update from their sniper.

  ~~~

  An unfamiliar warbling sound interrupted Mark’s contemplation of Julian’s library. He jumped up, instantly alert. Probably someone trying to gain entrance to the building, he thought, and headed to the front door of the apartment, to the master unit for the security control and video. Julian joined him.

  “I can manage access from my room,” Julian explained. “However, I thought you should be with me.”

  “Good. It’s two a.m., a strange time for visitors.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Gilmore was supposed to phone first, not just show up. If they claim to be FBI, I suggest you tell them to come back in the morning.”

  The security camera showed two men standing in front of the secured entrance to the apartment building. Mark stood back out of the range of the video camera while Julian keyed the talk button.

  “Who are you?” asked Julian. He released the button.

  “Mr. Kelly, I’m Special Agent Scott Gilmore, Boston FBI.” The speaker held up an identity card; however he was too far away from the security camera for Mark to confirm his identity. The second man did not show any identification.

  Julian said. “Special Agent Gilmore, I suggest you return at a more reasonable hour. Say nine a.m. This is far too early for any detailed discussion.”

  “Oliver said you had an urgent need to meet with me.”

  Mark said, “Ask him for Oliver’s full name.”

  Julian pressed the talk button again. “I’m sorry, Oliver who?”

  “My boss.”

  “His name, please.”

  The man with the identity card looked sideways as though seeking support and Mark suspected there was a third man standing away from the camera.

  “Ask the three of them to stand in front of the camera and hold their FBI identity cards close to the camera,” said Mark.

  “There’s only two—”

  “I suspect there’s a third man standing just outside camera range.”

  Julian pressed the talk button. “Would the three of you stand closer to the camera and hold up your FBI identity cards so I can see them, please.”

  The man calling himself Gilmore said, “Sir, you’re wasting our time. Open this door, or I’ll return with a SWAT team.”

  Mark said, “Don’t reply. Can you keep the external camera running without transmitting your image?”

  Julian pressed a switch. “That shuts off our camera. Now they can’t see me.”

  Mark and Julian watched as the two men seemed to hold a conference with a third man who continued to stay out of camera range.

  “I think the other person’s your security chief. They listened to our call with MayAnn and Schmidt—that’s why they don’t know Oliver’s full name.” He realized he needed to brief Julian on his earlier discoveries. “I did some exploring earlier, and Bergman’s placed spy cameras in just about every room, disguised as smoke alarms. I switched your wireless network off, but Bergman must have downloaded some of his files before I did that.”

  “Damn. So he’s been monitoring me—he has details of all my business and family discussions?”

  “More than likely.”

  “Should we contact Schmidt?” The two men were still standing at the apartment building entrance.

  “Yes. MayAnn can alert Oliver. If these are Bergman’s people, they must have stolen some FBI identity documents; perhaps they attacked the real Gilmore.”

  Mark borrowed Julian’s cell phone to call Schmidt. “Sorry to wake you at this hour,” he apologized. “We think there are two or three men pretending to be FBI agents at the entrance of Julian’s apartment building. One of them says he’s Gilmore. However, only one has an ID card and he won’t hold it close up to the camera. Also, they don’t know Oliver’s full name. Thoughts?”

  Schmidt yawned. “Sorry. It’s late, you know. We’ll contact Oliver and suggest he phones you. He should call within five minutes. Hang tight. Phone me again if you haven’t heard from him by then.”

  Oliver made contact three minute
s later. He listened to Mark’s description of events and then updated both Mark and Julian. “Julian, I’ve arranged for a team to get to your apartment as soon as possible. Four agents. They know the urgency and they should be there very shortly. I’ve also arranged for seven agents from our Gold Tactical Unit to fly to Boston to help our local office. Mark, I think you’ve met Gross, the unit leader; he’ll co-ordinate with you once he arrives. Two men from his unit will be at your address by 8:40 or so, and another two will arrive an hour later. They’ll relieve the agents I’ve just sent to you.”

  Julian thanked Oliver. Mark continued to monitor the entrance security video camera. The man claiming to be Gilmore and his companion had disappeared. They either had decided they could not gain access to the apartment building or were plotting how to do that, out of sight of the camera.

  Half an hour later the warble sounded again. Mark and Julian viewed the video monitor. There were four men standing at the entrance, each holding ID cards so they were clearly visible. Julian asked for their names and checked them against details provided by Oliver. When he was satisfied, he pressed the command button to open the lobby entrance door. Within seconds the video screen showed the four men in front of the elevator, and he pressed another button to authorize their ascent to the apartment floor. A minute later, four FBI agents were in the apartment.

  The agents listened to Mark as he provided a briefing; he handed over copies of the video and .jpg files that linked Julian’s security chief to the kidnap attempt, and showed the agents the disguised spy cameras. He also provided copies of the files that he had downloaded from the camera in Julian’s study.

  The spokesman for the FBI team said, “Thank you, Mark. You’ve established there’s a definite threat. Of course, Oliver’s assessment and authorization established the seriousness of your situation. We’ll be here for the remainder of the night. Our presence should discourage anyone from acting against your daughter or you, Mr. Kelly. We’ll be here until the GTU team arrives and then I’ll work with Gross to set up protection for you, until you have your own team in place. One of my men will take up station in the entrance lobby, inside the security door. I’ll remain in the apartment, while these two”—he indicated the team members—“will be on station outside the apartment. While we’re here, I’ll arrange for Bergman’s arrest, as well.”