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

by John Hindmarsh

  “I can use the knowledge of the affair for—pressuring—the senator?”

  “Yes. Wear long, fire-proof gloves, though.”

  “You like him that much?”

  “He’s a bastard, to put it bluntly. We’ll probably arrange for him to retire.”

  “Your research team has that much power?” Travis raised his eyebrows, his expression serious.

  “Friends. We have friends who use our research services. Travis, I caution you, do not treat the risks lightly. If, at any point, you think that you are in danger—there’s a cell number on the card I gave you. Call it. Say—this is Travis and I need help. Give your location in case we can’t trace it. Shelter until help arrives. Our people will get to you faster than the police, I guarantee.” Linda needed to stress the seriousness of the likely reactions from Ross Cromarty if Travis produced one of his exposés—which, of course, she wanted him to do.

  “How will I identify the good guys from the baddies?”

  “They’ll tell you Linda sent them. And they’ll show a military ID. They’ll be military police from an MP Battalion, the 145th.”

  “MPs? I won’t ask. You’re swimming in deep waters. Are you safe?” Travis frowned into his coffee. He raised his head far enough to catch Linda’s eyes. His concern for her safety was obvious.

  She blinked. It was an admission, she realized. Travis knew her too well. “I’ll have an escort for a while. Besides, at this stage, he doesn’t know me, and I hope it stays that way.”

  “But you’ll use me?” He swallowed a mouthful of coffee.

  “Yes. It plays into your ambitions.” Linda shrugged, not totally dismissive. “It’s what you do. And I’m doing what I do.”

  Travis laughed and reached across the table for Linda’s hand. “I know. I was pushing buttons. So this guy’s evil, he’s kidnapped one of your people, and you’re applying maximum pressure?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “Can I ask who he kidnapped?”

  “No names, Travis. Not this time. He’s—well—he’s a part of our organization.”

  “And if I try to discover details, I’ll end up with a smacked hand?”

  “At least. Amputated, more like.”

  Toby nodded, keeping eye contact with Linda. “I understand—I’ll not explore that path. Why so much pressure—why are you creating this pressure?”

  “The person who was kidnapped is at risk of his life. We’re doing everything to find and rescue him. No, we don’t have any personal relationship—he’s one of our VIPs, I suppose you’d say. We even have the support of the president for our rescue efforts.”

  Travis finished his coffee. “Linda, dear Linda. You are undoubtedly at far greater risk than I’ll ever be. I’ll help, of course. I’ll let you know if I have questions, and I’ll report in, occasionally. A good excuse to take you to lunch again.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Chapter 22

  Schmidt, when he found out, was as angry as Linda had ever seen him. His chastisement was well into fifteen minutes before Linda could get him to stop his tirade and listen to her. She thought most of her team had heard him.

  Linda held up her hand, like a stop signal.

  “Schmidt. You’ve been ill. We have been working independently for months. We will continue to be independent, to a degree. You don’t think a team of more than a hundred researchers, investigators, and analysts has been sitting still, hands under their bums, waiting for you to return to duty, do you?”

  Schmidt appeared stunned. He did not reply.

  Linda continued. “We’ve supported Maeve and a number of Cerberus teams. We liaise closely with Helen and her battalion, providing reciprocal support. We’ve provided some independent research—sensitive data—to AJ, the President’s National Security Advisor. We have other clients, wealthy individuals, plus some corporate. So don’t come in here, firing on all cylinders because we’ve continued to do business as usual.”

  “You’ve created a danger for yourself, which might not have been necessary. Likewise for your friend and for that senator—Fordsby.”

  “Mark deserves every effort we can apply.” She closed her lips. She folded her arms.

  “Linda, I know and I agree. I don’t question your motivation—I’m concerned about your safety.”

  “The safest thing we can do is neutralize these people, as fast as possible.”

  “You have a valid point. Okay. Keep me appraised. In future, consult before you climb out on a risky limb, please.”

  “Assuming you’re back and functioning as we need you to be, yes. I reserve the right to climb any limb, if I think it necessary, if you’re incapacitated.”

  “Unfair, Linda.”

  “No, it’s not. As I said, we’ve been functioning effectively. And profitably. We had to.”

  Schmidt threw his hands up. “I take your point. Now, let’s work together, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. I mean that positively. You’re our boss—we missed you.”

  “I know, damn it. I missed you and the team, too. Let’s get a round up of actions and statuses. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ve arranged for Winter to report at his favorite time—10:30 a.m. He should have news of any aircraft in the vicinity of the refueling. FBI have questioned the regular pilot; however, he was on vacation in the Bahamas for that week. I believe the DHS team, which was tasked to visit O’Hare’s possible girlfriend, should be able to report also by mid-morning. She’s European, maybe Ukrainian, and the team was tasked with identifying her. Their focus is her immigration status. Travis sent me a text—he’s got a sixty-second spot on CNN through the morning. He fed one of the producers some suggestions and they’re interested in the Iranians and whether the Senate Banking Committee is taking action to explore embargo breaches.”

  “Good. You said Helen has a snatch team ready to extract him, if he needs help?”

  “Yes, indeed. She’s arranged a team for me, as well.”

  “That’s good to hear. Other reports—what’s happening?”

  “I have five teams devoted to processing data from all our Cerberus people. We’re deluged, although there’s a lot of chaff. I have two other teams analyzing their summaries. That’s forty people. Another two teams are analyzing official reports, reviewing tapes, statements, you name it.”

  “Hoping we’ll get some grains out of all the chaff, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about Maeve? Does she have anything official from the FBI or other agencies?”

  “We’re meeting in an hour or so, and she’ll expect you to join us for her briefing.”

  Schmidt was silent for a moment, reflecting on Linda’s report. He said, “We’re now dependent on whether Brian Winter’s teams and your analysts discover something relevant, like details of an aircraft exchange at the airfield south of Boston. Your pressure points should startle up some activities. We’ll keep an eye on Cromarty and O’Hare. On Grovers, too. He could prove to be a weak point.”

  “I’ve a suggestion for Grovers.”

  “Yes?” Schmidt was interested.

  “Circulate a rumor that the Army is considering a review of his misconduct—you know, if the Army recalls him, charges him with conduct unbecoming to an officer, demotes him, and dishonorably discharges him, his ego damage would be substantial. He is a man alone—no family and few friends—he may decide to come to you or Maeve for help.”

  “You’re getting more devious, young lady. Cruel, as well.”

  “They kidnapped Mark. I’m prepared to attack anyone who is possibly involved to ensure he is released, unharmed. Besides, you taught me.”

  “Ha. That excuse won’t wash. Work up a plan for Grovers—we’ll include him in the pressure program.”

  ###

  Three men, clean-shaven, hair trimmed, neatly dressed in dark suits, polished black shoes, with crisp white shirts and carefully tied ties, approached the entrance to the block of apartments. One by one, they pushe
d though the revolving door into the lobby area, empty of people except for a Winter Security guard who stood behind a high desk. The apparent senior member of the team walked over to the guard, his footsteps muted by the thick pile carpet strip laid across the marble floor.

  He said, “I’m Special Agent Fredericks. We have an appointment to interview Ms. Anna Midway.” He flashed his badge and FBI identity card and went to return the wallet to his suit jacket’s inside pocket.

  The guard held his hand out for the wallet. “I’ll have to scan your identity card, sir. The same for each of your companions. It’s SOP here and agreed to by your office. No exceptions. I’ll also clear your presence with Ms. Midway.” Anna and the two children—now three children, he corrected himself—had returned late in the previous evening. They were, in his estimation, nice people. He always took special care when he considered the clients were in that category.

  “Karl, take care of this,” the senior member said as he returned the wallet to his pocket and adjusted his jacket.

  Karl, the youngest of the three men, stepped forward and drew a handgun. It was silenced. He snapped off a shot and the guard collapsed, possibly dead or dying, behind the security desk. Neither of the three putative FBI agents noticed the security camera tucked into a high corner, nor were they aware it relayed images and sound on a continuous feed to Winter Security’s control room. The monitoring controller’s reactions were fast and efficient; she notified the local police and placed a call to the client, advising of the attack and possibly deadly assault on their employee. She also contacted a Winter Security response team and it was only minutes away from the apartment building. Her notification action list required a follow-up call to Cerberus in Washington. That last call generated a major impact: a number of FBI agents and police, all Cerberus and located in Boston, were notified and as a result, an FBI team and a police team were heading to the apartment building.

  The three men walked to the elevators only to discover the call button was not functioning; presumably one reaction to their illicit entry was for the elevators to be temporarily disabled. Neither did they know that building tenants, both those in the building and those away from their apartments, had been advised of the lockdown.

  “Karl, try the door,” ordered the senior member of the small team of intruders. He indicated a door that presumably gave access to the building’s stairwell.

  Karl pushed and pulled at the door; however, it did not move. “Locked. Nate, this is going bad,” he complained.

  Nathan Boyle ignored his companion’s negative reaction. “Ralph, check if the security guard has keys or a remote control. Quickly, we need to move.”

  The third member of the group searched the jacket and pants pockets of the security man on the floor, avoiding the flow of blood from his head wound. He checked the desk. He turned to his boss. “No, nothing.”

  “Blast them to fucking hell,” cursed the man in charge. His hastily—now he was prepared to admit to himself—and carelessly thought out plan was unraveling rapidly.

  “We should leave—this is going nowhere,” advised Karl, moving towards the set of exit doors.

  “Shaddup,” snapped Boyle. “Let me think. One of these other doors must be unlocked—there are fire laws.”

  The crescendo of police alarms intruded into the building foyer. Karl and Ralph looked at each other and shrugged. Boyle noticed and reacted angrily. “Okay, okay. I thought this was going to be a simple walk in and walk out. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  The three men headed to the exit. Despite efforts, none of them could budge the revolving doors. Both Karl and Ralph tried, separately, to push through the heavy doors, without success. As they struggled, Winter Security’s team, police officers, and FBI agents, all with weapons ready, gathered on the street outside. Each of the three men inside the lobby drew their weapons and placed them on the marble floor and stepped away. They had no other exit.

  Chapter 23

  Schmidt, Maeve, and Linda were in the small conference room, their attention focused on the television screen. The channel was CNN. The anchor was introducing their expert for the next sixty-second news snippet.

  “Today we were informed the Senate Banking Committee is planning to call a well-known American businessman as a key witness in a banking sanctions hearing. Travis Martin is our expert on the Senate committee and its hearings. Travis, what’s happening?”

  “Craig, this is very interesting news. The Senate committee is examining the effectiveness of banking sanctions, with a focus on Iran. They are exploring the twelve months prior to Iran signing the latest treaty with us. Sources tell me the committee has received solid evidence that a well-known US businessman breached the banking sanctions last year and illegally sold—via a long chain of shell companies—weapons to Iran.”

  “Do we know anything about this businessman? Who he is and the extent of his arms dealings?”

  “Yes, we do. The evidence apparently identifies him, together with his family ties to Iran. We cannot mention his name at this point. Once the committee formally calls him as a witness, we’ll be able to do identify him for you. The amounts involved exceed half a billion dollars. That’s a major breach of sanctions. Craig.”

  “You’ll keep us informed, I’m sure. Is there anything else we should know?”

  “Yes, there is. Senator Randolph, the current chairman of the Senate Banking Committee, this morning tendered his resignation, both from the committee and from the Senate, effective immediately. A sexual discretion was rumored to be the cause of the senator’s abrupt departure. Interesting times.”

  “This is a video of the senator announcing his resignation, earlier today. As you said, Travis, these are interesting times. We’ll have you back to keep us updated with events, especially when the committee announces the name of the businessman involved.”

  Schmidt turned to Linda. He said, “Well done.”

  Maeve frowned. “Your friend, Travis—he’ll be at risk for a little while, I think.” Linda had briefed Maeve of her efforts minutes before the CNN report. Maeve was not entirely pleased with the risks Linda was running.

  “We’ve arranged protection and a snatch team for him; it will be available on a twenty-four hour basis. Helen’s happy to have some support tasks for her soldiers, which allow them to help with our search for Mark,” Linda added. “I’m not sure whether Cromarty will attack, but it’s good to take precautions.” She didn’t mention Helen had also arranged a team to protect her.

  Schmidt nodded. “Keep your analysts involved. They’ll pick up chatter if he or O’Hare reacts. I have a feeling we’ll need more than a snatch team from the 145th, before we’re finished. Now, did you get feedback on O’Hare’s popsy?”

  Maeve frowned at Schmidt’s choice of noun. She said, “Yes, an ICE team—well, to be precise, it was an HSI team—Homeland Security Investigations—visited the house and interviewed her, to validate her immigration status. There are grounds for further action. She apparently has a green card, approved on the basis she was married to an America citizen. However, her husband wasn’t home, she couldn’t provide his location, didn’t know where he worked, and couldn’t describe any of his friends or family. The HSI report states this is one of their classic marriage of convenience scenarios so they’ll investigate further.”

  “Is the HSI team Cerberus?”

  “Yes. We made sure of that,” Maeve confirmed.

  “It will be interesting to see O’Hare’s reaction. If his lady friend is at risk of losing her immigration status, he’ll try to apply pressure on HSI management. Maeve, you’ll need to keep your people protected.”

  “We’ve got Cerberus resources in place in the HSI executive associate director’s office, and in a number of intermediate domestic operational layers including the New York field office, which provided the team. If any pressure’s applied, we’ll know within minutes,” Maeve said.

  “What about the retired general? Anything happening there?
” Schmidt asked Linda.

  “We’ve dropped a vague suggestion or two on a couple of military blogs; however, so far they haven’t taken up the bait,” Linda said. “I don’t want to use Travis; the links would be far too blatant if he’s running with the banking committee expose.”

  “Agreed. I’ll see if I can use a channel or two. There’s an active gossip structure in place; it’s used by both retired and active generals—we like to keep in touch. Finally, what about Brian Winter’s people? Did they discover anything at the airfield?”

  “He’s expecting a call from us. We can do that now?” Linda asked. Without waiting for an answer, she dialed Brian Winter on the conference phone and placed it on speaker.

  “Winter.”

  “Brian, good morning. I’ve got Maeve and Schmidt listening to you.”

  “Good morning. A couple of items. My team found a plane-watcher who photographed a small passenger jet at Sissons Airfield, south of Boston, at the same time the so-called FBI helicopter was re-fueling. There was on the ground meeting between crews. We’ve copies of the photos of the aircraft and yes, the jet’s registration numbers are clear. I’ve uploaded the images and files notes to Linda’s cloud. Second item—three men were apprehended at Mark’s apartment building earlier today. They claimed to be FBI. Our guard was shot. Fortunately, he’s expected to recover; the impact knocked him unconscious and he’s currently in hospital, under observation. The three men have been identified—one is Nathan Boyle; he’s the perp who shot and killed my man driving Mark back to Boston. The other two are also suspected of involvement in Mark’s kidnap. This happened less than half an hour ago so, Maeve, I expect your people will be reporting in soon. We had FBI, police, and one of my response teams in attendance. It was all rather crowded. No one else was hurt.”

  “Do you know whether the target was Mark’s partner or Julian?” Linda asked.

  “As far as we know, they were after Anna and the children.”