by Alex Lukeman
"Good. Captain Krushenko, are you a religious man?"
Krushenko looked at the phone. What kind of question was that? It gave him a bad feeling.
"No. Why are you asking this?"
"Just wondering." Foxworth pressed a button. The signal went to the same satellite that carried Krushenko's encrypted transmission, then relayed down to another phone hidden in the hold of the motor launch and wired into three blocks of Semtex. A second later the launch disintegrated in an eruption of flame and debris. The sound of the explosion rolled across the waters.
Foxworth listened to the sudden silence and turned off his phone. He remembered something Benjamin Franklin had said. Three men can keep a secret if two of them are dead. Foxworth thought Franklin a wise man.
It hadn't been easy to arrange everything. But with enough money, anything was possible.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
It was an Indian Summer day, warm for early November. Elizabeth, Selena and Stephanie were eating lunch outside in the sheltered garden at the rear of the Project. They sat in the sun in the far corner, away from the building. A group of six analysts sat talking and laughing at one of the tables by the doors leading into the building.
The garden was two hundred feet long, surrounded by high concrete walls painted in desert earth tones. On the back wall was an exit door with an emergency bar on it. No one had ever needed to use it. The walls caught and held the warmth of the sun in the winter and provided seclusion and shade in summer. It was popular with everyone who worked at the Project, a favorite spot for a quick cigarette or a coffee break. Graveled walks meandered through decorative beds of flowers and under tall shade trees. This late in the year the leaves were down. The flowers were gone except for a few purple mums.
The paths intersected in the middle at a low fountain shaped like a smooth, gray boulder. Water flowed over artfully placed rocks, murmuring like a mountain stream. The sound made Elizabeth think of other places, other times. If she closed her eyes she could imagine the sound of the creek that ran behind her childhood home in Colorado.
Nick and Ronnie came out with trays and headed toward them. Nick had abandoned the sling but he had to be careful about the stitches. He looked at Selena and felt something close down.
Lamont was at a hospital in the city. His mom was ill again.
Ronnie and Nick were almost across the garden when something screamed out of the sky and exploded in the front of the building. The blast picked them up and tossed them aside. The air filled with flying debris. Blocks of concrete slammed into the earth and smashed against the garden walls. Pieces of the building rained from the sky.
In the aftermath, it seemed as if time had frozen and sound had ceased to exist.
Nick couldn't understand what had happened. He was lying on gravel. The stones dug into his face. The stitches in his back were torn open and bleeding. He couldn't hear anything. He tried to comprehend what he was doing there. Ronnie lay twenty feet away, not moving. A thick cloud of white dust drifted down on everything.
Hearing began to return. It brought the crackling of flames and the sound of things falling inside the building. Nick started to get to his knees and hit something with his head. A jagged spear of steel had embedded itself in a tree next to him. He saw Selena on her knees, bent over someone on the ground. The side of her face was covered in blood. Director Harker lay on her side, her back against the garden wall. Her black skirt was pushed up above her knees.
Nick struggled to his feet and looked back at Project headquarters. Black smoke and orange flame rose over the building, climbing into the blue Virginia sky. The rear wall was rubble. The roof was gone. He remembered that people had been talking and eating near the building entrance. They were buried under the remains of the wall. He could see a woman's leg sticking out from under concrete and twisted rebar.
He stumbled over to where Ronnie lay unconscious. The back of his head was covered with blood. Nick turned him over and lifted an eyelid, then the other. One pupil was large, the other small. A bad concussion, or worse. He pulled off his jacket and wadded it up into a pillow.
He looked again at the devastation. He wiped his forehead and his hand came away bloody. He had a headache. Ronnie's eyes fluttered and opened.
"What..."
"Easy, amigo. You're all right. Don't move." Gently, he put the makeshift pillow under Ronnie's head.
"Got a headache."
"Yeah."
"What happened?" His voice slurred.
"A bomb. Lie still. I'm going to look at the others."
Ronnie closed his eyes.
Nick went to where Selena knelt over Stephanie. Selena's clothes were ripped and covered in dirt and dust. She had a gash on her scalp that had bled down over her face.
"You all right?"
"Yes. Steph isn't."
"Shit." White bone stuck out of Steph's lower arm. There was a lot of blood.
"She's unconscious. Nick, what do we do?"
"Be ready to hold her still in case she wakes up. Give me your jacket."
Selena had a light weight suit jacket of silk. She pulled it off. He saw her wince.
"You sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, just bruised. Here." She handed him the jacket.
He tore off a long strip of silk.
"Hold her head."
Nick lifted Steph up while Selena held her head off the ground. He wrapped the strip of silk around her body and pulled the upper arm tight against her chest. She moaned.
"She's waking up. Hold her."
Elizabeth knelt down next to them. "I'll help." She coughed, hard , rasping coughs.
He wrapped another piece below Steph's elbow and pulled it tight. The bleeding slowed to a trickle. The flames made a steady roaring sound, sucking in air around them. Heat from the fire was intense.
"Let's carry her out of here. Each of you take a leg."
The three of them carried Stephanie out through the door in the back wall and set her down.
"Stay with her. I'll get Ronnie. There's no one else we can help."
What was left of the Project building was an inferno. Nick got Ronnie to his feet. He half walked, half dragged him to where Harker held open the emergency door. Sirens sounded in the distance. He lay Ronnie down next to Stephanie and started toward the parking lot where the rescue trucks would be.
Then the rage began.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
They met at Selena's that evening. Stephanie and Ronnie were in Bethesda. Selena had been treated for the deep cut on her scalp. It had taken four stitches to close the cut on Nick's forehead and more to sew up his shoulder again. His arm was back in the sling. Elizabeth had multiple cuts and cracked ribs.
They sat at the granite counter dividing the living area from the kitchen, drinking coffee. Selena had set out a tray with pieces of dark chocolate.
"Chocolate?" Nick said.
"It helps," she said. "Go ahead. Try it." She took a piece.
"Everyone was killed," Elizabeth said. "Everyone."
They were silent. Then she said, "It was a cruise missile. The Pentagon thinks it came from a freighter off the coast."
"A freighter? How do you fire a missile from a freighter?" Nick held a cup of coffee in his left hand. Hot. Black. It helped him think.
"It was probably concealed in a cargo container. The satellites wouldn't have spotted it. If they used cold launch technology, they wouldn't need a vented platform. The missile was supersonic. By the time our people saw it, it was too close. They couldn't get something up in time to stop it. There's been no further indication of a threat. Rice has gone to DEFCON III, just in case."
"Cold launch and supersonic. That's government ordnance. Any claims of responsibility?"
"Several. Everyone is going crazy over at Langley and the Pentagon trying to figure out who did it."
"How is the White House going to spin it? You can't hide something like this. It's bound to leak that a missile got through our defenses."
"As far as the outside world knows, our building was a high-tech engineering research firm. The story will be that it's a terrorist attack gone wrong, with a missile targeted at the White House going astray and landing in Virginia by accident. A case of targeting error. The only upside is that it will probably clinch Rice's re-election."
"Why us? Why didn't someone put a missile on the White House?"
"The White House has AEGIS protection, but you're right, they might have gotten one through. So that's the right question. With targets like the White House or Capitol Hill or the Pentagon, why us?"
"Let's start making assumptions," Selena said. "It usually works, though I'm not sure why."
"Okay," Nick said. "Let's start with a fact. Someone sent a cruise missile and targeted it on our building. It can't be an accident it hit us. Something that advanced would have internal programming to put it right on the money."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"Then assumption number one is that someone is out to get us. What's assumption number two? Aside from the fact that we've pissed someone off?"
"Number two is that whoever it is has a lot of money and powerful contacts," Elizabeth said. "Missiles are expensive and you can't order one out of a catalog. At least you can't unless you're a government."
"It can't be a government," Selena said. "We aren't important enough to risk a war with the US by sending a missile at us. This is real overkill. It's an insane thing to do."
"So we've got someone who is pissed off at us, has money and connections and is insane. Sound like anyone we know?" Lamont rubbed his nose with a knuckle.
"Foxworth," Elizabeth said. "Adam said he has a brain tumor."
"That son of a bitch." Nick's voice was flat. "It has to be him. Have they found the freighter? The captain can tell us something."
"That's another thing. There was a seismic anomaly registered by underwater sensors off the coast right about where that missile could have come from. An explosion of some kind. The Coast Guard is looking for a ship. They haven't found anything in the area except oil slick and flotsam."
"They sank it. It's at the bottom of the ocean."
"That's what I'd do," Elizabeth said. "I think there's something more going on here. You remember, a few months ago Adam told us Henri de Maupassant was part of AEON?"
"The French Minister of Finance? He was on that list in Foxworth's villa."
"Maupassant had a heart attack last night at a restaurant he frequented in Paris. He's dead. A waiter said someone brushed against him as he came in. He collapsed a minute later."
"That sounds like the KGB," Lamont said. "They were good at things like that. Remember that guy they poisoned with plutonium?"
"The KGB is gone."
"Gone but not forgotten. There are a lot of ex members of the sword and shield out there looking for work."
"Why kill Maupassant?" Nick asked.
Elizabeth picked up her coffee cup and set it down again. She took a piece of chocolate. "I think it's a power struggle inside AEON. There was another death two days ago. Julio Silva, in Brazil. He owned one of the largest energy corporations in the world. A big player."
"You think Silva was part of AEON?" Selena reached up and touched the bandage on her head. The stitches itched.
"I think he was. Silva was assassinated. A sniper got him as he was getting into his armored limo. The bodyguards and car didn't do him much good."
"Foxworth is going after his enemies. Including us." Nick got up and poured more coffee. Lamont held out his cup. Nick reached out with the pot and felt something spasm in his back. The coffee spilled.
"Damn."
"You okay, Nick?"
"Yeah." He set the pot down. "Just a glitch. I'll work it out in the gym. It'll go away."
"Are we in agreement, then?" Elizabeth said. "We assume Foxworth is behind this?"
"Yes," Nick said. Lamont and Selena nodded.
"We'll get him. Our first priority is a temporary place to work. DCI Hood has offered space at Langley if we want it. Rice has suggested the Pentagon."
"Can we access the NSA and CIA mainframes securely with remote access?" Selena asked.
"Yes."
"Then why not work here? Steph will be back tomorrow. There's plenty of room, a place to sleep if someone needs it, good security. There are two big screen TVs we can use for monitors. We can bring in anything we need. It keeps us out of sight."
For a moment Elizabeth was quiet. Then she said, "That's a good idea."
They were up and running.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Valentin Dragonov was pleased with the way things were going. Two down. The Frenchman had been child's play. Sometimes the old ways were best. A simple pin prick, a fast acting poison and a problem was solved.
Silva had been more difficult, but people always had routines that were their undoing. Silva had been smart enough to vary them. Dragonov had to admit it would have been enough to stop most enemies, but he wasn't like most enemies. Silva's downfall had been through a low level employee with a grudge and a need for money. He'd been happy to provide Silva's itinerary.
As promised, Foxworth had transferred two bonus payments of 200,000 Euros each to a numbered account in Zurich. Valentin considered his next target, a banker in Hong Kong with close ties to Beijing. The logistics were difficult.
Dragonov had taken a suite at the luxurious Upper House Hotel, looking out over Victoria Harbor. The service was the best in Hong Kong and the food in the hotel restaurant excellent in a city known for its culinary offerings. The suite was $900 a day. Dragonov saw no reason to try and save his employer any money.
The girls he'd ordered from the escort service would be here soon. Dragonov looked forward to a night of many and varied pleasures. A discreet knock sounded on his door. Dragonov glanced at his watch. Right on time. He went across the room and opened the door.
Two large Chinese men moved in so quickly that Dragonov had no time to react. They were strong, with a grip like iron. The gun jammed into his ribs made struggle pointless.
"Sit," one man said. He pushed Dragonov down on a couch.
A third man entered the room and closed the door behind him. Dragonov recognized his next target.
I'm fucked, he thought.
The man was slim and not very tall. He had streaks of gray in his hair. He wore a gold Rolex on his left wrist. He wore a suit of dark blue Hong Kong silk and a red tie. Heavy lidded eyes looked at Dragonov through glasses with tinted lenses. He gestured and one of the large men brought a chair and placed it directly in front of the Bulgarian. The Chinese man sat down.
"You know who I am," he said. It wasn't a question.
Dragonov licked his lips, suddenly dry. It would do no good to deny it. "Yes."
"Good. Then you know I am a serious man."
Dragonov said nothing.
"Is that right, Mister Dragonov? Am I a serious man?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"My colleagues believe you should be eliminated. You wouldn't like that."
He waited expectantly for Dragonov's response.
"No, sir, I wouldn't."
"How much did Foxworth pay you?"
Dragonov told him.
The man smiled. "It is always good to know what you are worth in the eyes of another. How much are you worth, Mister Dragonov?"
"I don't understand. Sir."
"I have a proposition for you. You have proven most resourceful. It is, after all, business. You will work for me. If you accept my proposition, you will be allowed to live. Your contract will be completely fulfilled with one more assignment and you will be paid the full amount offered before. Can you guess what your new assignment might be?"
Dragonov allowed himself to breathe. For the first time, he thought he might survive this meeting. "Yes, sir. Malcolm Foxworth."
"Good. I see I have not misjudged you. And can you guess what will happen if you do some
thing foolish? Tell Malcolm about this meeting, for example?"
Dragonov nodded. "Yes, sir."
"No, you can't. You can't even imagine it. You understand, don't you?"
Valentin Dragonov knew many ways pain could be applied to the human body. He understood how the body could endure excruciating suffering for days before it died. Dragonov also understood fear. Looking into the Chinese man's eyes, he felt fear he had never known.
The man saw it and smiled. "Good. You understand." He patted his new employee on the knee and stood. "You have made a good decision. I will be watching for news, Mister Dragonov. Don't be long about it."
He moved toward the door. His two men were there before him, one holding the door open. At the door, the Chinese man turned.
"The women will be here soon," he said. "Perhaps you should change your clothes."
The door closed behind them. Dragonov looked down at the stain spreading on his pants.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
Mandy Atherton wore a tailored gray business suit of Italian silk that set off her perfect features and slim body. A gold bracelet studded with sapphires circled her left wrist. Mandy liked sapphires. She looked up as Foxworth's Chief of Security came into the room.
"He's not expecting you," she said. "I thought you were out of town."
She considered the man. Rough around the edges, though Healey had been no jewel himself. She missed the sex, the thrill of sneaking behind Foxworth's back. Looking at Dragonov, she felt the beginnings of arousal. He had big hands, a massive build. She wondered if the rest of him matched. Besides, she'd never had a Bulgarian. At least she didn't think so.
"You don't have to announce me," he said. He walked over to her, bent down and smelled her hair. "What is that perfume you're wearing?"
"You like it?"
"Very much." He laid his large hand on her neck and put hard fingers around her throat. She shivered. For a moment she felt frightened. There was something about Dragonov, a kind of feral danger that radiated like heat from his body. She felt moisture between her legs. He paused as if considering something, then gently withdrew his hand.
