Head of the Serpent (A John Stone Action Thriller Book 4)

by Allen Manning

  “What the hell is this? Uh, sir.” Deschanel asked.

  Gavreau didn’t say a word as he shoved Brassard into the building’s front entrance. Christopher fell to his knees, and Gavreau yanked him back to his feet.

  “This, rat, sold his soul for his own personal gain. Put us all at risk,” Gavreau finally said.

  “What are you talking about?” Lussier asked.

  The three men looked at Brassard, who kept his eyes on the floor and said nothing. Gavreau pulled a key drive out of his pocket and tossed it to Silvestre.

  “There are files on that drive. They show money transfers to Brassard, arranged by Matthias Keppler. The financier who worked with bin Hashim and the Four Serpents.”

  All three men looked at Gavreau, then Brassard, with shocked expressions.

  “That’s not true―” Brassard began. Gavreau shoved him forward, almost throwing him to the floor.

  “Shut your mouth!” he spat. “You’ll have plenty of time to tell us everything in interrogation.”

  Silvestre stared at the flash drive in his hand. Deschanel got his attention as Gavreau led Brassard away.

  “Do you think it’s true?” Deschanel asked.

  Silvestre shrugged.

  “Open the drive. We have to see for ourselves,” Lussier said.

  Silvestre hesitated, turning the drive over between his thumb and forefinger. “I can’t believe this. How can it be true? It can’t be.”

  Lussier reached over and gently grasped the key drive. Silvestre held on for a second, contemplating whether to even let anyone open it. Brassard was like a brother to him. He had even saved Silvestre’s life two years ago, when an operation hit an unexpected level of armed resistance.

  After a few seconds, Silvestre looked Lussier in the eye and released his grip, letting him have the drive. Gavreau had already taken Brassard toward the elevator and pressed the button to head to interrogation. Lussier, Deschanel, and Silvestre followed solemnly behind them.

  On the third floor, the doors opened, and they all filed out. Gavreau had a hand on Brassard’s shoulder, guiding him to a holding cell. Lussier took the drive to his desk and powered up his computer. The three men stood and waited for what seemed like an eternity for the computer to boot up.

  When the log in screen finally showed, Lussier logged in with his credentials and inserted the key drive into the data port. The files opened, showing them precisely what Gavreau had seen.

  It was true. Everything Gavreau told them. Christopher Brassard betrayed all of them.

  * * *

  Gavreau opened the door to the holding cell, leading Brassard inside. Resigned to his fate, he sat quietly on the hard bench against the back wall. Gavreau stood and regarded his colleague. Could he even consider him a colleague? Was he ever one of them?

  They remained motionless for a few tense minutes, Brassard choosing silence, and Gavreau left speechless. Silvestre walked over to the holding cell and looked at Brassard.

  “How long?” Silvestre asked.

  Brassard would not meet his gaze.

  “Answer me! I―we, we all trusted you! We’re a family!” Silvestre was screaming now.

  Deschanel tried to calm his friend down, putting his reassuring hands on his shoulders. Lussier sat at his computer, poring over all the data on the key drive.

  Gavreau finally turned and headed back out the exit, and closed the holding cell door. He walked to Lussier’s desk, and the other two men followed him. There was a long silence, no one knew what to say first.

  “How did you find this?” Deschanel asked.

  “The American, John Stone. He was here earlier tonight, and he gave it to me,” Gavreau said gesturing to the flash drive.

  “The American? Can we trust this? Can we even trust him?” Silvestre asked, wishing none of this was true.

  “Can we afford not to act on it?” Gavreau asked.

  “Yes, we can. What if Stone gave you this to distract you from whatever he’s planning?” Silvestre asked.

  “You think Stone might be working for the Serpents? Creating a rift in this department?” Deschanel asked.

  “You’re grasping at straws now,’ Gavreau answered.

  “Can we believe him more than our own brother?” Silvestre chimed in.

  “Brassard… Christopher tried to kill me,” Gavreau said.

  This left the three men in stunned silence.

  “When I saw the files, I went right to his house. I called you all to meet me here, where we could get to the bottom of this,” Gavreau started. The others stood and listened intently.

  “When I saw Chris acting so natural, like he was one of us, I lost my temper. I punched him and told him we were coming here. Then he caught me with an elbow and went for a pistol,” Gavreau gestured to his side, wincing slightly. The adrenaline was finally starting to wear off. The three men finally noticed the blood stain on his dark shirt.

  “I got the pistol away from him and cuffed him. Then we came straight here.”

  Silvestre shook his head, not wanting to believe any of it. “Y-you hit him first. You said that yourself. Maybe he was defending himself.”

  “Stop. Just stop,’”Lussier finally said to Silvestre. “The evidence is all here. Brassard is dirty.”

  Silvestre grasped his own hair in two handfuls and let out a frustrated scream through clenched teeth. He turned and stormed away. Deschanel turned to follow him.

  “It’s okay. Let him have some time alone,” Gavreau said.

  The other two looked at each other, then at their task force commander.

  “What do we do now?” Lussier asked.

  Gavreau was silent for a long beat. He looked at the holding cell door.

  “Interrogation,” he said. “We need to find out what he’s told the Serpents. What they know about us.”

  CHAPTER

  15

  Gavreau stood in the darkroom, looking through the two-way mirror, into the interrogation room. At a steel table, with his hands cuffed to the cold metal slab, Chris Brassard sat quietly. Patrice Cartier, The RAID lead interrogator, sat in the seat in front of him. Cartier asked another question, while Brassard sat in stony silence. William Silvestre stepped into the observation room, followed by Giles Deschanel.

  Silvestre was more composed now than he was after learning about Brassard.

  “Anything yet?” Deschanel asked.

  “Nothing. Brassard hasn’t said more than a handful of words up to this point,” Gavreau answered.

  “Look, I’m sorry I accused you earlier about―” Silvestre said.

  “Forget it, Will. I understand how you feel. I didn’t want it to be true either,” Gavreau said.

  “Chris was family to all of us,” Deschanel said.

  Silvestre just looked through the window at Brassard. Unable to find the words, he could only nod at the two of them.

  “Why don’t you go see how Lussier is doing with the files that Stone gave us, Will,” Gavreau said.

  “Sir,” Silvestre said with a nod, turning to leave.

  The interrogator, Cartier, stood and stepped out of the interrogation room. Brassard gave the slightest turn of his head toward the mirror, then returned his gaze straight ahead. Gavreau tightened his fists and shook his head. A few seconds later, the observation room door opened.

  “He just will not speak with me,” Cartier said, entering.

  “The man is highly trained. Not the typical people we usually break down,” Gavreau said.

  “What do we do now?” Deschanel asked.

  Cartier pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “Well, my recommendation is to take him to a secure detention facility. There, we have better equipment and personnel to conduct things more efficiently.”

  “Torture? Are you kidding?” Deschanel asked, more to Gavreau than Cartier. The RAID commander held out a hand to reassure him.

  “No one’s going to any black site, Deschanel. Besides, we don’t have time to waste sending
him away from here,” Gavreau said.

  “Well, alright. It was just my recommendation, based on our need to prevent the next terrorist act the Four Serpents may be planning,” Cartier said. “I can try to speak to him again, after he’s had some time alone.”

  “Perhaps I could speak to him,” Gavreau offered.

  “I don’t think that would be the best idea. The isolation will help when I interrogate him again later. Any aggravation may erase any progress we make,” Cartier said.

  Gavreau nodded. Cartier returned the nod before leaving. Gavreau and Deschanel stayed behind, watching Brassard through the glass.

  “You’re going in there, aren’t you?” Deschanel asked.

  “Yes,” was all Gavreau said, then he left the room.

  * * *

  The bright overhead LED lights bathed the interrogation room in a cold, clinical glow. Brassard sat unmoving in his seat, waiting for the next round with Cartier. The interrogator was good, but he would get nothing from the former RAID operative.

  The handle on the door rattled and turned, swinging open. Lionel Gavreau stepped through, locking his gaze right away. Brassard’s eyes widened slightly, but otherwise, his expression betrayed nothing. Gavreau’s were fixed intently on Brassard, as he pulled the chair out and sat down in the seat Cartier occupied earlier.

  “I don’t know what to say, friend,” Gavreau said, biting the last word bitterly. “Were we even friends?”

  Chris Brassard continued to stare blankly, saying nothing as he took in a deep breath, in and out through his nose. Gavreau wanted to reach across the table and throttle him. Make him feel the anger, sadness, and frustration he and the rest of his team felt right now.

  “Why? That’s all I want to know. After all, we’ve been through, you owe me at least that. You owe your brothers and sisters out there that much,” Gavreau said.

  Silence.

  The lack of response left Gavreau exasperated. He looked at the table’s scratched and marred metal surface, waiting, hoping Brassard would say anything.

  “It’s no use. I guess you were never loyal to the team. Well, you had us all fooled, while you just sold your family to collect a few pieces of silver. Maybe your loyalty only lies with money.”

  Gavreau stood to leave when Brassard spoke.

  “Loyalty?” His tone equal parts pain and mockery.

  Gavreau turned to face him.

  “You question my loyalty when you should really question your morality,” Brassard said.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Gavreau asked. “We save lives every day.”

  “Save lives?” Brassard furrowed his brow. “You paint a picture of us as a big happy family, as if that’s something to be proud of. We call each other brother, then we smile like the good guys while we put our boots on the necks of the ones the government says are the bad guys.”

  He looked up at Gavreau now, a fire in his eyes.

  “Things are about to change. The corruption of the powers that be is going to end when true justice rains down on them from on high. Spears from the heavens.”

  Gavreau felt a chill shoot through his body. The conviction in Brassard’s words shook him. Had he ever really known this man in front of him.

  “Christopher, please. Tell me what the Four Serpents are planning. Don’t let the terrorists spill any more innocent blood.”

  “Those who sit idly by, while the corrupt rule over them aren’t truly innocent, brother.” Brassard spit the last word like it was a dagger into the heart of his former commander. “They deserve the same judgment as those that rule over them.”

  CHAPTER

  16

  Paris, France

  Kaliq stepped out of the black SUV, tugging at his collar as he twisted and kinked his head side to side. One of bin Hashim’s lieutenants put a hand on the assassin’s shoulder.

  “Easy, friend,” he said, undoing the top button and loosening the tie. “You won’t have to wear this much longer, but if you keep fidgeting around, they will suspect that we don’t belong.”

  With his discomfort abated, Kaliq smiled and grunted a quick thanks. Four more Serpents followed the pair inside, walking to the metal detector set up at the main entrance. The security guard waved them through, staring at the indicator lights.

  Each man, in turn, enters the building with no warning sirens from the checkpoint. As they strode further into the building, shoes echoing in the spacious hall, A man in a suit joined them.

  “I’m Omari Malouf.” He placed his right hand over his heart and gave the men a slight bow. “Here in service to Azhaar bin Hashim and the Four Serpents. Right this way.”

  He led them down the main hall to a side office, away from the crowds finding their seats in the main presentation hall. Omari opened the door and gestured for the men to enter, following after the last man.

  Kaliq’s eyes continued roving around the room, bouncing from wall to wall, corner to corner, taking everything in. He fixed his attention on a pair of black hard-shell cases, typically used to transport equipment for rock concerts. They were approximately 3 and a half feet long and lay sideways on the floor.

  Omari unlocked one of the cases and opened it, stepping to the side. One of the Serpents approached and crouched down to examine the contents. There were large boxes and items filled with lighting and sound equipment for the presentations at the summit.

  The crouched man nodded to another Serpent, then reached down to one end of the box. The other Serpent did the same, grasping a small handle inside the case on the other side. They both lifted out the stage equipment out on a long shelf. Omari smiled as the Serpents stared into the empty black interior of the crate.

  He reached into the box and lifted out the false bottom, revealing the arsenal inside. Small automatic weapons and fully loaded magazines tucked into foam inserts to keep them from moving around during transport. Bin Hashim’s lieutenant nodded, and the men went to work opening the second case.

  * * *

  At the main entrance of the Paris Convention Centere, John melted into the crowd waiting to enter. He looked at the hastily erected metal detectors, an apparent response to the terrorist attack in Lyon.

  He wasn’t exactly sure where he needed to go in this massive space, so he followed the general flow of the people walking in, who had a better idea of where they wanted to be. He looked down at the pass that Parker had him print out, but the seat and row number didn’t tell him where to find Dr. Steven Takada.

  After passing the security checkpoint, John smiled and retrieved his pass, stuffing it in the breast pocket of his jacket. Following the crowd, he saw the signage plastered all over for the summit. I need to find a schedule where the speakers will present their research, he thought.

  The people around him hurried toward the main hall where the opening presentation would be starting. John stepped to the side and looked for Takada’s name listed at one of the information kiosks. He would be speaking in half an hour in one of the larger rooms.

  John hurried, now. He needed to reach the doctor and intercept him before the Four Serpents arrived to take him.

  * * *

  The Serpents each slung their loaded Skorpion sub-machine guns under their arms, hidden by their jackets. The lieutenant ordered his four men to join the rest of the attendees in one of the secondary halls for Dr. Takada’s presentation.

  “Come with me, Kaliq.”

  The assassin nodded and followed as they slipped out through a different door, toward the preparation rooms for the presenters.

  * * *

  John walked through the back corridors, passing several stage crew members, and presenters. He reached the back of the hall where Dr. Takada would be discussing his research with the other scientists in attendance. John looked at his watch. Twenty minutes until it would start.

  John poked his head through the side entrance, scanning the stage and seating area, hoping to find the doctor already there, which would make his job a little easier. No such
luck. The large conference area with high ceilings, commonly used for accommodating large structures and lighting setups, was still mostly empty.

  Rows of stackable chairs had been set out for the presentation, and only a few of the seats were already filled. Most of the people were still in the main hall where the opening presentation had started minutes earlier.

  John strode out toward the raised impromptu stage area with the lectern set up in the middle. Behind the podium was a large white screen for a projector. He composed himself with the confidence of someone that was supposed to be there, looking around for a back entrance from where Dr. Takada would enter.

  He stepped onto the stage area and headed for the back off to one side. There he found a small set of steps leading to an entrance blocked from the front of the room by a curtain.

  John opened the door stepped into an adjoining smaller conference room area. Inside people were preparing to give their own presentations throughout the day. They sat at the various tables spread around the room, fiddling with a variety of props and equipment stacked on them.

  In one corner, John spotted Dr. Takada holding a stack of index cards. He was reading through them, going over his presentation, unaware that his life was in jeopardy.

  John made his way to the doctor as casually as he could, but without hesitation. He stopped two tables away from Takada and examined the unattended items on display, pretending to be there for that reason.

  He angled himself in a way that allowed him to see much of the room, but still, keep an eye on the doctor. Another man joined Takada, speaking to him after he finished going over his notes. John overheard them discussing the plan and timing of the presentation.

  Once their conversation ended, the other man left Dr. Takada alone. John approached him, speaking in a calm but authoritative tone.