Flashpoint: Reed Series

by M. C. Cerny

  JACOB SPED OUT OF THE garage and headed towards the South Street riverfront. He thought about his parents and how Reed Software & Securities was his father’s original company holding. Jonathon Reed had started the company over forty years ago, developing cutting edge surveillance equipment still used by the government and other private contractors. Some of those patents had produced billions of dollars in revenue. Their servers probably held a number of dirty secrets that certain people didn’t want leaking out. Now they were assisting large corporations with security data, and even banks were using them to secure user information. Jacob had followed closely in his father’s footsteps, developing software programs and video surveillance equipment, making the company explode financially when other startups could barely get ahead of companies like Apple and Microsoft.

  Jacob’s mother, Ruth Bennett, had been his father’s longtime secretary and mistress. She had given birth to Eli, but Jonathon didn’t even acknowledge Eli as his son until much later. By then, the damage had likely been done. As the story went, he apparently went to a stockholders meeting rather than the birth of his first son. Ruth had been in labor for many hours, but easily forgave Jonathon his misgivings. Ruth Bennett was soft and often self-centered. Jacob never saw his parents as fantastic role models. When he knocked Ruth up a second time, he waited until she’d given birth to a son, Jacob, before marrying her. His parents seemed to love each other and, eventually, Jonathon accepted his sons but, by then, Eli was an angry troubled teen doing anything destructive that he could get his hands on.

  The name Reed still commanded respect and prestige in the right social circles. Jacob could understand why Eli hated their father even in death, but it was a lost argument since both their parents had tragically died together. They had been on vacation in the Mediterranean when their speedboat had hit rocks in a shallow cove, exploding and killing them both instantly. The boys had been away at a military boarding school, serving their time for their wild ways that the Elder Reed refused to tolerate. By then, their lives had taken on very different paths as brothers; Eli enlisting in the Marines after another incident at school expelled him, Jacob heading to the Army Rangers after finishing college a year early. With no surviving family, the boys had to make their way in the world before they got access to their hefty trust funds. Jacob was still wrangling full CEO control from the aging board members, now that he was firmly committed to being back. At least he hoped to be back.

  He quickly reached the docks and drove into the warehouse lot, which was behind large gates and barbed wire. It appeared very low tech to the naked eye, but those fences were wired with high voltage and security cameras, and was monitored 24 hours a day. He noticed a few other vehicles in the warehouse bay as he pulled in and parked the Jag. He got out and unclipped Hauk, who followed right on his heels. He expected that if Lulu was here, Nick and Julian would be, as well. The old warehouse had been opened up last year to store the team’s mission supplies. Even a small helicopter was stored on the roof and covered in a camouflaged tarp that, at first glance, looked more like a large storage crate. Computer screens lined the back wall, and a medical facility to treat injuries not requiring major surgery was partitioned behind thick glass walls. Several people bustled around, getting ready for the evening’s meeting.

  Eli looked up. “I see you finally made it.” Jacob merely nodded back. The core team was sitting around the large table in the main room of the warehouse. A section of computer monitors was fully lit up, and the medical station was currently cast in dim lighting. The open room had a second floor with Eli’s office at the top of the stairs.

  “You summoned me, Eli. I barely had time to settle down at home. I almost flew the other chopper over here just to annoy you,” Jacob grunted.

  “No, you just settled for the flashiest car you had laying around the garage,” Eli’s voice rose. Jacob would have given anything to be living a different life right now. He was so over his brother’s shitty controlling attitude. He closed his eyes trying to let go of his anger, running a hand over his head in frustration. Tapping his leg in annoyance, he repeated his mantra of “Let it go”.

  “Gentlemen, if we could get down to business.” Nick Murphy wheeled his chair over from the computer wall. He nudged his way between the two alpha brothers, injecting a peace treaty with his calming presence. He kept his tone low and ran a hand through his blonde surfer hair, which contradicted with his past as an ordained priest…in between his stints in the Army Rangers where he had met Jacob.

  “Tyler and Mason are picking up our CIA contact, mostly so he is unable to disclose our current location here…and because Eli enjoys being a pain in the ass. It gives us some leverage in the assignments we take.” Nick chuckled and reviewed more operational data.

  “In the next few weeks, we will be transferring Headquarter Operations to the Tower building in Midtown. This location will then be inactive. We can better blend in with our activities from the Tower, and be able to house more of our equipment and team members under the guise of a luxury, high security building,” Nick added, pulling up corresponding data on his computer screen, which was visible to the group.

  “Plus it means our contacts will have to come to us in a completely secure building in the middle of town, where stepping out of line would be extremely unwise and very noticeable,” Eli interrupted Nick and handed out a packet to each member at the table.

  “So that means that we’ll finally have a full medical facility onsite, a new helipad for access, and vehicle transportation,” Jacob added, crossing his arms.

  “It also means that Jacob will be stepping out of full-time Ops so he can run Reed Software & Securities as the CEO. He will still be available for emergencies and part-time missions, but since the Tower building is the corporate headquarters and our new base of operations, it will give us greater access,” Eli stated.

  “And more toys to drive,” chimed in Mason, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  “Correct and, as always, we’ll have access to all our new development products in security, but someone does have to be a front for the shareholders,” Jacob said, smirking.

  “So our missions will still come from the CIA pricks?” asked Lulu.

  “Not entirely. We’ll continue to take on profitable search-and-rescue missions in the interim. Assignments will be given to our team based on skill, location, and need. Therefore, I will also be looking to train smaller teams for those assignments that we are unable to take on as our business seems to be expanding. We will adapt as necessary. I’ve also authorized another site to begin mobilizing in California. Nick will be going back and forth to oversee things.” Eli nodded to the group.

  Eli continued to review various specifications for the expanding business. Jacob sat back in his chair, tapping a pen on his thigh. He loved his brother, he really did; he and his niece Rebecca were his only living family, but the man seriously needed to get out more. Looking around, he took in the austere open space…grey metal, glass, and cement. It’d be really cozy for Eli’s dates, he was sure. He didn’t even use the adjacent penthouse loft at the Tower. It sat empty, like much of Eli’s life. It certainly wasn’t the life Jacob was choosing for himself. He made a mental note to have some color added to the new office, just to irritate his brother. He tried to remember a newscast Katie had done on Patty somebody who decided the “color of the year” shit. He pulled out his smartphone and looked it up while his brother droned on.

  “Ah, yes. Pantone and the color is Emerald Isle this year,” Jacob mumbled to himself, smiling.

  “Something you want to share with us?” Eli growled at Jacob.

  “Not at all, Eli. Not at all.” Jacob placed his phone back in his pocket, smiling, while his teammates looked on curiously. Green shit was about to explode all over the tower office like elves and Jacob was thrilled.

  Jacob waited while two of their team members escorted in the CIA contact. Senior Agent Rick Chambers was a stocky guy who liked to smoke cigarettes like th
ey were going out of style. Jacob could smell the faint scent as he passed by in his expensive dark suit. The guy looked like a government tool and, after having served his country honorably, he felt he could make that distinction with precision.

  “Welcome to the Bat cave, Agent Chambers,” Jacob greeted the man with the slicked hair and shitty attitude.

  “Was it necessary to have me blindfolded and my phone disabled?! I’m a member of the United States government!” Agent Chambers fumed at the group, many of whom just looked amused.

  “Yes,” several members murmured in unison. Agent Chambers gave the motley group a once over before tossing an envelope on the stainless steel table.

  “While we appreciate your assistance in these delicate matters...” Chambers began.

  “You mean the shit Uncle Sam won’t touch?” Lulu crossed her arms over her pert chest and whipped her long red braid over her shoulder. Julian stood behind her and meaningfully squeezed her shoulder to calm her down.

  “Ahem…we also cannot disclose our association with you, for obvious political reasons,” Agent Chambers explained.

  “It is an election year boys and girls, hooyah!” This came from Tyler, and the others nodded.

  “Understandable. We can’t rely on you, you can’t acknowledge us. So what is it you think we can be of assistance with this time?” Eli took the envelope and dumped its contents on the table.

  “The picture you see is Russian national businessman, Ivan Romanov Cosovo. He owns and runs IRC, Ltd.” Chambers pointed to the first set of photographs.

  “IRC, Ltd. is a direct software competitor in our Euro-Asian division.” Jacob recognized the guy immediately. “Hell, I’ve probably bumped into him at a few technologies holder meetings the past few months alone. That asshole bought out my contracts.”

  “Well, that’s awkward,” Mason said, leaning over the table to get a better look at the grainy shot, which showed St. Petersburg in the background.

  “Somewhat,” Jacob agreed.

  “Cosovo is also heavily involved with sex trafficking, and recently purchased a small pharmaceutical plant outside of Berlin. We believe he may be developing some kind of drug for use with his prostitutes or his recent ownership into a few London night clubs. Our concern is because a certain unnamed senator’s son turned up dead after overdosing on an unidentifiable club drug we believe came from Cosovo’s newest London shit hole.”

  “And you want us to what? Go in there and blow shit up? Round up the girls?” Since his first mission, Tyler hated sex traffickers more than any other assignment since it reminded him what his lovely wife experienced first-hand before they had rescued her.

  “Well, you won’t have to go far because Cosovo is having a shipment of something delivered into port here on Friday evening. We need to know what he has and what he plans to do with it.”

  “What do you mean ‘something’? You can’t be more specific than that?” Eli asked.

  “We simply have been unable to get closer to his operations to confirm anything solid,” Agent Chambers replied.

  “So why can’t the Coast Guard and customs get involved?” Nick asked. He was sitting at the table in deep thought, his hand supporting his chin. Uncomfortable with Chamber’s pause, he stood up and faced the wall of computers. “I mean, technically, wouldn’t this fall under ICE’s domain?”

  Agent Chambers nodded at Nick, confirming his thoughts. “Unfortunately, he has a level of diplomatic immunity. More importantly, we’re more concerned with what he’s bringing in and what he’s attempting to do at his pharmaceutical plant in Berlin. At this point, we need the Intel and his potential contacts more than we need the man.”

  “So he’s just the little fucker-fish in some larger pond?” asked Tyler.

  “Who are these other two clowns?” Mason picked up two other photographs.

  “Ah, yes. Well, we recently found out that Cosovo has been meeting some other global players on our watch list. Those two men are….”

  “Xavier Baron,” said Lulu. Nick reached out to support her, but held his hand back and balled his fist as he noticed Julian had stepped up to support Lulu this time.

  “Sibi Al Amhed,” Tyler grated out, slamming his fist on the table before walking away.

  “Obviously, your team seems to know these other players,” Chambers said, raising an eyebrow.

  “It won’t be a problem. Does it matter how we acquire this Intel for you?” Given their history with all of the players involved in the game, Eli wanted this asshole out of his warehouse and away from his team. Eli might have been a major asshole, but he valued the members on his team above all and thought of them as his family. He wanted to specifically know if they were going to be limited in any way by the CIA or other government protocols and operations when they went in to kick some major ass.

  “Not particularly. Let me know when you’ve completed the Op. I’ll be in touch.”

  Chambers waited for Mason to escort him to the SUV and take him back to his hotel. He could smell the harbor waters and figured they were somewhere in the South Street warehouse district. These novices thought they could outwit the US government, but he knew that, if he wanted to, he could have them satellite pinpointed in under three minutes with a flick of his GPS watch. He made a mental note to himself to make a phone call up the food chain. Nobody fucked with Rick Chambers, but the devil left the same way he came—blindfolded and his fancy phone deactivated.

  HE WATCHED HER BREATHE GENTLY, the rise and fall of her chest was rhythmic. Her pale skin was exposed by the dark sheet that had slipped to the floor. She whispered his name, Mischa, the Russian form of Michael. He looked into her deep brown eyes. The dark pools sucked him into the abyss. They both knew what she was, which left little to be coy about. After all, he had met her outside one of his favorite bars shortly after his divorce from Trish was finalized. It had been a marathon night of sex, which cost him a wad of cash and a strained back.

  He had wondered if it was all an act, the desperate damsel tricked into coming to America thing. Did she really have a frail mother in Moscow? Was her brother really sick and disabled? That seemed so 1980’s and Cold War-era. He didn’t know for sure, wasn’t even sure he really wanted the knowledge. Now her body was something he did know, intimately. He knew every curve, every sensitive spot that made her moan helplessly when he touched her, licked her, and fucked her. She was his drug of choice and would probably be his downfall. He wrapped a long lock of her hair around his finger, rubbing the silky texture.

  She said his name again, more plaintive and needy this time. He rolled over on top of her and watched her eyes open wide, felt her suck in her breath as she opened her legs for him. He rocked gently back and forth, which seemed to excite her more, then penetrated her. She wasn’t really a bad girl; she didn’t like it rough and she wasn’t a loud lover, which he had expected. That suited him fine. He’d rather his neighbor across the hall, Mrs. Burton, didn’t complain. She had already told him not to bring his whore home where decent folk lived. He didn’t make it a secret that she was a prostitute, but calling her a whore when she did what she had to in order to survive didn’t seem fair. The economy was tough and sometimes pretty girls did a lot of bad things to make it.

  After sucking him off one night, she told him that she had to pay off her debts. Her pimp kept her on a tight leash, and she often sported a nasty bruise on her cheek. He didn’t ask where she had gotten it and she didn’t offer the information. He begged her to stay in the mornings, but she told him that she had no papers and to go back “home” would be even worse. Her pimp had told her that she was going to be a nanny to very young, rich children. However, when she arrived, it was a much different life for her. She was raped and beaten by three men who told her what she would be doing for them for the next three years if she was any good at it and, if she wanted to live, she had better be good at it. She still had another year of “servitude”, and who knew how many partners left. When she wasn’t out screwing m
en for money, she worked as her pimp’s bookkeeper.

  He grew angry and frustrated, but she was too fearful to leave her situation. A TV crewman didn’t make much when he had an alimony sucking ex-wife and an angry teenage kid who never wanted to visit. This time was different, he thought as he pumped back and forth inside her, feeling her womb milk him. He loved this woman despite her past. They were kindred spirits, both damaged and judged. He couldn’t save his marriage and he probably couldn’t salvage his relationship with his kid at this point, but maybe he could save this woman from a world of pain and abuse. He desperately wanted a second chance.

  As he grunted his finish and rolled over with her, he rubbed his hand over her soft and slightly swollen belly. Having had a wife, he knew she was pregnant. Women didn’t have the flu for weeks like this. She tried to push his hand away but he ignored her, reveling in the fact that it could be his. He had only forgotten a condom that first time and a few of the men she was with refused to wear protection, but he couldn’t even bring himself to care if the baby wasn’t his. She refused to talk to him about it. Her usual crooked smiles were now sad and her brow creased in deep thoughts that she didn’t share with him. He wanted it, the new life was a new chance for him, but he worried that she might have changed her mind. Leaving him that morning, she was distant, tossing her things into her fake snakeskin leather bag. He should buy her a new one, something nice like Coach or a Kate Spade that his female co-workers always talked about.

  It wasn’t uncommon for Petra to go a few days without contacting him but, since she forgot her phone, he was worried. Their contact was always spotty, and her pimp monitored all her phone calls and text messages. He didn’t want her punished because she had forgotten the stupid thing. After four days, he worried. After six days, he was sure that something had happened. He couldn’t file a missing person’s report, though. City cops didn’t really look for prostitutes and, since his ex-wife was dating one, he was probably blacklisted from getting any favors.