Hunting Nora Stone

by Colin Weldon

  “I don’t know, Tarsis seems fine now,” said Shaw.

  “Show me the live feed,” Wise said.

  Shaw nodded glancing away from the monitor for a moment. The screen broke into two and showed the rooftops over Paris. Wise looked at the video feed coming in live from Tarsis.

  “And he hasn’t said anything, or sung anything, since?” Wise asked.

  “No, he seems to be on target and just holding position,” Shaw replied.

  Wise lowered his head and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose.

  “I can shut him down from here, sir, we can proceed with the plan as is and worry about Royo when he hits home soil,” Shaw said.

  Wise looked back at Shaw and shook his head.

  “No, we wait, we need shock and we need the Vice President in quickly and quietly,” Wise said.

  Shaw looked back at the screen. Wise watched as Tarsis began focusing in on something small and black on the rooftop next to him.

  “What’s he looking at?” said Wise.

  Shaw looked sideways at the same video feed as the image began to zoom in. Wise frowned as the object of Tarsis’s interest became clearer. It was a cat. Shaw looked at Wise.

  “Is he programmed to be intrigued by small animals?” Wise asked.

  Shaw shrugged.

  “He’s just tracking motion within his target vector. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Shaw said.

  Wise did not answer.

  “Ok, well tell him to stop looking at the fucking cat and focus on the entrance to the hotel. I want to see what’s going on,” Wise said

  Shaw nodded. Text appeared on the screen showing Tarsis’s video feed.

  ‘Eyes on target.’

  The image changed as Tarsis received his new instructions. The entrance to the hotel came swiftly into view. The president’s motorcade was already waiting outside the main entrance. ‘Cadillac One’ as the president’s car was designated – also called ‘The Beast’– was sitting in the middle of a six-car line up just in front of the entrance. The newly upgraded version of The Beast was something that Wise was slightly concerned about. It was more than a nicely decorated tank. It had newly designed countermeasures. Countermeasures that he himself had input into. The Beast, was a twelve million dollar, state of the art, transport vehicle. The president’s state car was virtually impenetrable.

  A chemical attack would have been pointless as the rear compartment was completely sealed off from the outside world and even had its own oxygen supply. The simple task of even opening the doors would prove impossible for anyone as the president’s state car had no key holes. The method for opening the car doors was a tightly guarded secret known only to the secret service. Wise, however, knew that secret. The new weapons system on board was something that concerned Wise. Replacing the compartment at the rear of the car, which held extra oxygen tanks and vials of the president’s blood type, was a new kind of countermeasure. A self-deploying drone weapons array. Wise had seen it while it was in the testing stages. It comprised four totally autonomous drones, each armed with .22 calibre armour-piercing turrets attached underneath their main bodies. When launched, they could lock onto any target and engage with pinpoint accuracy. They were fast and manoeuvrable with pre-set attack patterns already programmed into them.

  The car had flares, tear gas, could run smoothly on its reinforced steel rims, even if its tyres were blown out, was always occupied by heavily armed secret service agents and came with six-inch bullet-proof glass capable of stopping multiple hits from armour-piercing rounds. Not to mention the twenty or so vehicles in the motorcade as standard, comprising another decoy state car identical to The Beast, three armoured black SUV escorts with highly trained secret service agents, along with a counter-assault team in another set of four heavily armoured SUVs behind them, one of them equipped with a detachable roof that revealed antiaircraft cannons ready to tackle most airborne threats.

  Wise had really not wanted to go this route. It was too risky. The likelihood of Tarsis surviving the assault would be slim but if he was able to carry out his mission it would not matter.

  * * *

  All set?” said Todd Holt to the president as he straightened his tie in the large gold leaf mirror. He was having trouble with his top button. Holt noted that Royo had put on a little weight in the last few months. Ginny would have made fun of him for that. Todd missed her. She had been the life and soul of the party and had made a special effort to get to know him. She had ‘briefed’ him that first day when they had entered the White house. They had shared a dinner together at their private residence and she had told him all about their lives. She thought it was only right that he should know who he would be taking a bullet for, if it ever came to it. She had joked that she would gladly take a bullet for him too. He remembered finding her endearing, honest and sharp as a whip. He’d liked her sense of humour. They had become good friends and her absence still affected him. He still remembered one of their final conversations. She had been in the hospital bed, looking ravaged and had taken his hand. ‘Sorry Todd, cancer is one bullet you’re not able to take for me.’

  Royo turned to him and smiled.

  “Let’s do it.” They made their way down the hotel lobby towards the exit.

  Holt pressed the communications switch just under his thumb.

  “Raven is on the move,” he whispered quietly.

  He stood back to his usual five paces behind, and let the president lead the way. Holt switched back to his usual surveillance routine. His eyes flicked quickly from left to right, taking in the environment and watching the staff members of the hotel as they stood in a line with their hands behind their backs and watched as the president made his way through the lobby to the outside world. Holt carefully watched their eyes. That was where a threat was first detected. It was a person’s body language second, their eyes first. A person’s intent was always visible in their eyes. Small facial gestures that would go unnoticed spoke volumes about a person’s motivations. A little twitch of the eyes denoting a particular, potentially aggressive, move would have Holt tackle that person instantly. Most of the time the general public thought that the job of the Secret Service was simply to walk beside the president. They never saw the eighteen hour days filled with background checks and threat analysis that went into Holt’s typical day. He knew each hotel staff member intimately. Knew who their families were, where they lived, their political ideals, their online histories, their sexual preferences; every email they had ever sent to anyone, ever.

  “Raven exiting,” he said quietly into his hand-held mic, “all birds, stand by, seven second transfer.”

  He waited for each post to send in a single ping into his ear telling him his message had been received and that the snipers were all clear and waiting. Royo stood at the entrance and began shaking the hand of the hotel manager. A man by the name of Padgett Durand. He had a large round stomach but was always impeccably dressed and ran a very tight ship. He had a presence about him and was known to be one of the finest hoteliers in the world. Royo thanked him for his stay and complimented his staff before turning to wave at the staff lined up for the send-off. He looked at Holt who gave him a slight nod, indicating he was ok to start making his way to the car. Royo stepped out into the daylight.

  A red carpet had been laid out on the ground for him. He reached the Cadillac One. Holt followed behind, his eyes darting upwards to the sniper placed on the roof of the building opposite.

  “Lead one all clear?” Holt said into his mic.

  “We’re all good here,” came the reply.

  Holt frowned slightly. The reply was not the regulated response he was expecting. He should simply have replied ‘Clear’. It could have been a simple mishap. Holt kept his eyes locked onto the sniper.

  “Lead one, repeat clearance authorisation,” Holt said.

  Anything ou
t of the ordinary was considered to be an imminent threat. He felt his body tense up as he waited.

  “Clear,” came the reply.

  Holt relaxed slightly and nodded to himself. He made a mental note to chastise the sniper about not following protocol when the day was over. He eyes took in the length of the street and he looked left and right. The street was quiet. Main access roads to the hotel had been blocked off for the last twenty-four hours. Holt had been nervous about the Paris trip. There were well known Jihadist sleeper cells being combated on a daily basis by French intelligence. It was becoming a real problem. While their attacks on the capital had subsided there were very real threats received by Holt that had to be neutralised before the president had even landed in the country. There would be no open-air engagements this trip.

  The door was opened and Royo entered the car. Holt took the passenger seat in the front of the car, next to the driver who was already waiting. His name was Agent Colin Andrews. Trained in evasive tactics and one of Holt’s top agents, he was a Californian thirty one year old whom Holt had hand-picked for the job. His code name was Roadrunner.

  “Morning sir,” said Colin.

  “Roadrunner ready to go?” Holt said.

  “Always, sir,” replied Colin.

  “All units, prepare to move out,” Holt said into his communicator.

  The pings he received in his ear told him they had been given the go-ahead. An array of police car lights began flickering in front of him. The ‘Route, Pilot and Lead’ cars comprising French police began to drive away. Their job was to make sure the roads ahead were clear. They were given a five-minute head start. The decoy or ‘Spare’ Cadillac followed. They waited for the all-clear from the lead cars before Colin followed. Holt watched as the hotel disappeared from view and looked down at the onboard computer screens on the dashboard. The scanning devices at the front of the car began relaying information onto the screen.

  A few minutes later he heard what sounded like static in his ear. Then a voice.

  “Todd? Can you hear me?” came the voice.

  Holt frowned.

  “Holt? This is Eddie Conrad can you hear me?” came the voice again.

  Holt looked at Colin who was concentrating on the road.

  “What the…?” Holt said looking out of the car window in all directions.

  He looked back at Colin.

  “Did you hear that?” he asked.

  Colin looked at him.

  “Sir?” he replied.

  “Holt, just listen to me, this is Eddie Conrad, I’m inbound, you have to get the president under….”

  Whatever the last word that the person in Holt’s earpiece was going to say he could not hear it over the deafening smashing sound as something very large dropped straight onto the bonnet of the car.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Holt?” Eddie shouted while pressing the accelerator a little harder.

  There was a low sounding buzz in his ear before the line went completely dead.

  “Fuck,” he said looking back at Hiran, “talk to me, Hiran. What the hell is happening?”

  “They’re coming into range now,” Hiran said looking at his laptop.

  Eddie increased his speed as he made a beeline to overtake a dark grey Fiat 500 sauntering along in front of him.

  “Eh… ok we got problems,” Hiran said coming through the centre partition between the two front seats and handing the laptop to Abigail.

  Eddie glanced over at the aerial video-feed from the drones that were tracking the motorcade. Abigail stared at the images.

  “Oh, my god,” she said.

  It was a frenzy on the ground. The motorcade had stopped in the street and it looked like there was someone on top of one of the cars. There were agents all over the place, firing weapons. Eddie heard the gunshots in the distance and he could see flashing lights as they approached a street parallel to the main route. He suddenly had to jam on the brakes as the traffic in front of him had come to a dead stop. Abigail put her right arm out on the dashboard to stop herself from hitting her head while Hiran came straight through the partition and landed his body on the gear stick. The car skidded for a few feet before coming to an abrupt stop. Eddie looked at Hiran

  “You all right?” he said.

  Hiran nodded.

  “Let’s go, Hiran take the kit, Abigail you help me get some weapons from the trunk,” he said to her.

  “Hang on Eddie, you can’t just go running around the streets of Paris armed – you’ll be shot on sight,” she said.

  The sounds of more gunfire echoed off the buildings around them. Pedestrians were running in the street, some screaming.

  “Hand guns only, make sure they’re concealed,” he said, opening the door. He took the laptop from Abigail and placed it on the roof of the car and stared at it. It was hard to make sense of what was happening. There were agents scattered all over the place. The hovering viewpoint from the drones showed absolute chaos on the street. He suddenly saw something bursting out of the trunk of the black reinforced Cadillac. Several somethings. They looked like small drones. They shot out from the trunk of the car and began hovering directly over it. Eddie could see streams of bullets firing down on the figure standing on the bonnet. The bullets from the Secret Service agents and the hovering drones seemed to just bounce off him. The man was pounding his fists into the car. There was steam coming from the engine. It looked badly damaged.

  He heard machine guns in the distance and a lot of shouting. Police sirens wailed.

  “It’s Tarsis,” said Abigail, “has to be.” She said standing beside Eddie and looking at the camera feed.

  “Jesus Christ, it would take an anti-tank missile to do that kind of damage to Cadillac One,” Eddie said looking at her,

  Abigail remained silent. Tarsis continued to punch and flail his arms against the hood of the car. It looked like it was beginning to buckle. Tarsis suddenly stood up and took aim at the drones, firing shots from a weapon he had just taken from a holster. Hiran climbed out of the passenger seat, after pulling himself through the partition, and ran around to the rear of the car. He opened the trunk and began rummaging around inside. Eddie looked at Abigail.

  “I want you to stay here, feed me info from the drones to my cell phone and let me know what’s going on,” he said.

  “Eddie, if she’s there I may be only person who can shut her down,” Abigail said.

  “It’s not about her anymore Doc. Can you shut Tarsis down, that is the question. If not, I need you to get Miller on the line. `I’m gonna need back up,” Eddie said.

  “You can’ go over there alone Eddie,” Hiran said handing him two pistols.

  Eddie took one of them and slotted it in his holster, clipped onto his belt. The other he placed into a back pocket.

  “Get me a route out of here,” Eddie said to both of them, “Hiran I need that link up with Holt.”

  Eddie was about to move off when Hiran stopped him.

  “Eddie, look at this.”

  Eddie looked at the video feeds coming in and stared, wide eyed. There were bodies in black suits all over the place, small fires on the ground and what looked like tear gas had been deployed. The hovering drones that had been launched from the rear of the president’s vehicle had stopped firing. Out of ammo, Eddie thought. He watched as Tarsis leapt off the roof of the car towards a secret service agent kneeling on the ground, firing what appeared to be a shotgun in his direction. Tarsis reached the man, taking a blast to the chest in the process as if it were a water pistol. He reached out his hands and spun the agent’s head around until it faced the opposite direction. The agent crumpled to the ground.

  “Fuck,” Eddie said gritting his teeth. He looked at Abigail. She was white as a ghost.

  “He’ll kill you if you approach him, That vest won’t do you much good.”

 
Eddie knew she was right but he had to act.

  “Yeah, well, that’s life,” Eddie said looking at her, “Hiran, where’s that link up!” he shouted at him

  “I’m trying,” Hiran said.

  “What…?” Abigail suddenly said, “is that?”

  Eddie turned back.

  “What?” he said.

  “It’s hard to see but I think that’s her,” Abigail said.

  Eddie looked back at the screen. Through the haze of smoke and gas, another figure stood on the roof of the black SUV next to the president’s car. Dressed in full black tactical gear. He knew her immediately. Tarsis was back on the roof of Cadillac One. What happened next, happened fast. Nora Stone jumped from the roof of the SUV and with her arms outstretched. Eddie watched as she made contact with Tarsis. Her shoulder ploughed into his chest and the pair flew off the car into a haze of smoke.

  “Oh shit,” Eddie said. He launched into a sprint, tapping his thumb against the activating button on his armour vest as he did so. He gritted his teeth as he felt the effects of the vest on his body and wondered if this indeed would be his last battle.

  CNN

  Time Warner Building

  New York

  Alex Knight stared at the senator on the live stream as he rattled off the same old bullshit rhetoric while avoiding his question for the third time in a row. He tried, as usual, to maintain his composure and onscreen “interested face” as the cookie cutter politician bolstered statistics about the creation of jobs and his party’s strong stance on immigration. Alex tried to ask his question for a fourth time. His producer, Scott, was telling him to move on in his earpiece but this little shit was getting under his skin. The Senator in question today was Andrew Williams, a sixty one year old Republican representing Minnesota. He was a large man with a round head and thick round glasses. Alex had gone toe to toe with him on more than one occasion with little or nothing to show for it each time.

  “Senator Williams, I really need to press you on this issue, what exactly is your response to critics’ assertions that congress is going out of its way to block the provisions bill on automatic weapons even after a promise by your party that a bipartisan agreement could and would be reached by the end of the week?” Alex said trying to put as much weight in his voice as he could to let the senator know that he was getting pissed off.