The Manhattan Incident

by Raymond Poincelot

  Cooper made his decision. The first dream was the real one. The second dream was just Satan’s attempt to sway him from God. If dying was the way to God, so be it. Since it worked for Jesus, Cooper accepted the fact that it would work for him, too. “Ms. Gates, I am leaving the office now. I have some personal matters to attend to. See you tomorrow morning.” Ms. Gates passed the intel immediately to Colonel Lanzo and also now to Agent Dubrov per Lanzo’s response to her previous message. Ms. Gates felt a little nervous, hoping that Cooper’s security department did not find her two phone calls to her ailing mother to be suspicious. Hopefully, the coded messages were unbreakable. Cooper gave her the creeps. She did not want to be on his radar as a security threat.

  Agent Dubrov sent a red alert message to the staff monitoring the surveillance drones watching Cooper’s Office Building, his mansion, and the isolated ramshackle garage. Messages trickled in that Cooper entered his mansion and a short time later emerged driving a car from the ramshackle garage. Close-up shots from the drones showed Cooper in disguise and that the license plates were still the phonies not registered in any data base. Interesting, thought Agent Dubrov, where are you headed? In the car Cooper put the address into his GPS unit, which his security team insisted was protected from prying by government spooks. He hoped they were right. He certainly paid them enough. Cooper headed towards a shady bar in the Bronx. His security team used this bar as the “Go to place” for getting shady or even illegal things done. His security director had told him about it some time ago. Given that no one in his staff was ever arrested for certain actions that no one talked about, he trusted the bar as being secure. Hopefully, that was still the case. On a whim, he spoke aloud. “Hi, God. You said you would work with me to make this happen. If I shouldn’t go there, send me a sign.” Cooper felt a little foolish. Nothing out of the ordinary happened on his trip, so Cooper felt this action to be righteous.

  Dubrov was now watching the drone feed as Cooper parked his car and headed into the bar. What luck, thought Dubrov. Since the local MI knew about this bar’s real business, they had succeeded in bugging it with the latest undetectable state of the art bugs. They also had an undercover agent in place posing as a busboy. Given his youthfulness and low level job, no one paid him any attention. This factor made him ideal for overhearing conversations. So as to not jeopardize their source for keeping tabs on the unlawful activities of the Bronx, they only thwarted the worst plans hatched there. It had paid off. We’ll get you Cooper, thought Dubrov with a self-satisfied smile.

  Cooper sat at the bar as far away from the nearest men nursing their drinks. Based on his security chief’s information, there was a key phrase that would get you what you wanted. The bartender came over and said, “What will it be?” Cooper smiled pleasantly and said, “I want something special.” The man replied, “Everything at the bar is special.” Cooper smiled as that return phrase meant he was in business. “I’ll have your best bourbon on the rocks. Bring it over to the booth in the corner. Pour one for yourself and join me there.”

  The bartender slid into the booth across from Cooper. He raised his glass and said, “Here’s to your business.” Cooper raised his glass and sipped his drink. Cooper then said, “I want a concealable, powerful handgun that that is undetectable by metal detectors.” The bartender gave him a long look and said, “We can get you such an item. A 3-D printer will be used to print a small handgun from plastic impregnated with nano-fibers. The cartridge case will be the same and the actual bullet will be a ceramic hollow point. The hollow point can be filled with neurotoxin, if you wish. Because the handgun is small, it will only load two cartridges. If you aren’t a gun user, I suggest you go with the neurotoxin. One hit anywhere on the body is a guaranteed kill. It won’t be cheap. The neuro-version will cost you $20,000. Making such a gun is a big risk, as these types of guns are totally outlawed. We had to specially program the printer to produce one. One other thing; don’t get caught. If you do, we’ll have to kill you. We can’t have this item traced back to us. I’m sure you can understand our position. You also have to use the gun within one week of delivery.”

  Cooper smiled. “Neither requirement will be a problem. Why do I get only one week?” “Simple. The neurotoxin starts to break down after seven days.” The bartender thought to himself, the real truth is that we put an assassin on your tail immediately upon delivery as insurance and we don’t want to pay him for more than one week. “Delivery will be here in two days. Come back then at the same time with the cash. If you are undercover, have a wire, or followed, you’re dead. Get the picture?” “I do. How much do I owe you for the drink?” “It’s on the house. Nice doing business with you.” Cooper got up and left. Cooper wiped a drop of sweat from his brow. Damn, he thought. I’ll be dead either way. Either the bodyguards will kill me as soon as I fire, or they’ll aim to wound and I’ll be caught and just be killed later by the mob that runs the bar. For a moment, Cooper thought he would back out as his self-preservation instinct kicked in. No, God will place me at his left hand. I am supposed to die. It’s just not clear when. Hopefully, it will be later. I must keep the faith. Cooper drove off. As he left, the busboy came to the table and wiped it down with a napkin. He looked around surreptitiously and then carefully picked the glass up with a napkin. In the back room near the sink he bagged the glass in a plastic bag and shoved it into his backpack. After his shift, he would leave it at the drop point for MI’s pickup if it was wanted.

  Agent Dubrov rubbed his head with both hands after listening to the bugged conversation and hearing from the mole. This situation just became very tricky. He had already sent an encrypted message via the P-Com. The undercover agent would get the bagged glass to MI. It would be a piece of fingerprint evidence to connect Cooper to the bar. Out loud, he mumbled, “How do we handle this one?” In his head he ran through the options quickly. Option one was to snatch the bartender after closing when he went to his car. They would explain the choice simply. We have enough goods on you to put you away forever, unless you cooperate. You order the weapon, but ask for it to be a phony. No neurotoxin and cartridges that are duds. Do as we ask and you stay out of prison. The downside, though, thought Agent Dubrov was that the bugging of the bar would likely end, as the mob would either move the operation somewhere else or do a thorough bug search. The other option was to try to track the weapon printer through whatever contact method used by the bartender to order the product. That could be difficult, depending on how the contact occurred and what type of encryption was used. The usual method was to call from a throw away cellphone to another throw away cell phone. So far such past orders had been so brief that tracking was not possible. No, too risky. It would have to be option one. It was worth the loss of future intel to nail Cooper. Suddenly Dubrov remembered a rumor picked up in the bar’s intel data. A thin smile broke through his stern demeanor. Perhaps the bar’s intel didn’t have to end, if he played everything right and the bartender believed the rumor. The downside was that it was a rumor still, neither confirmed or disproved. He immediately called his team together.

  The field van parked a distance away from the bar where it had a clear view of the bar’s parking lot. At closing time Agent Ang sat ready at the rear of the van. He cradled the tranquilizer rifle. Suddenly his ear bud whispered with Dubrov’s voice, “Target is leaving now. Ang peered through the scope. “Damn,” he said. “There are two of them going to the lot. One must be a waitress.” Hopefully, they would go to separate cars and the bartender would wait to make sure the woman got safely away. If not, he would have to take them both out. Shit, they are both going to the same car. His finger tightened on the trigger. His finger relaxed as only the woman entered the driver’s side. The woman got in and exchanged a few words with the bartender and then drove off. Ang relaxed for a few seconds to make sure the woman wouldn’t see anything in her mirror. As the bartender reached the car, Ang pulled the trigger. In his scope he saw the man stagger and then collapse. Dubrov watched and then dro
ve the van rapidly into the parking lot. Agent Kee leaped out from the front passenger seat and dragged the bartender into the rear of the van and closed the doors. They all then drove off just in case anyone was watching from through the bar’s security cameras. At some point satisfied that no one tailed them, Dubrov pulled over and parked.

  The bartender came to with a splitting headache. At first he couldn’t see anything as a blinding light was shining in his face. He tried to move and then realized he was tied into a chair. He felt a prickly feeling on his scalp and forehead. Something was attached. What the fuck, he thought. Dubrov watched and then turned to the technician monitoring the medical machine attached to the leads coming from the bartender. He saw the woman raise one finger. That was the signal that the bartender had a rapid pulse, elevated blood pressure, and rapid breathing. Good, thought Dubrov, He’s scared. Let’s see how far we get with the rumor.

  Dubrov turned the light away from the bartender’s face. As the man’s eyes adjusted to the lower light level, Dubrov saw his eyes widen. Dubrov said nothing and gave the man his most threatening look. The bartender spoke. “Are you with the Russian mob? You look Russian.” Dubrov gave a thin smile that seemed to make the bartender even more nervous. Dubrov thought, it might be a rumor that the Russian mob was moving in on the Mafia’s turf in the Bronx, but it looked like the bartender was buying it as true. “You’re not as dumb as you look,” said Dubrov. “Let’s play a little trust building game. Don’t say anything until I ask you to answer. Otherwise those wires going to your head will send an electric current to your body. It will hurt a little, and if we have reason to doubt your answers, we can send you a fatal dose.” With that, Dubrov smiled. It was partially true. They could send a bit of current, enough to scare him, but the machine could not harm him. “My first question, what is your name? I want your real name, not any alias. The wrong answer will give you pain. You are probably wondering if we really know your name. Perhaps you take a chance, or perhaps not. So, answer the question now.” Dubrov knew the name. Fingerprints had been lifted long ago from a bottle handled by the man.

  “My name is Nikita Korchev. What’s yours?” Dubrov looked at him. “Good answer but a bad question. If I give you my name, I will have to kill you. Let’s just say I am a fellow Russian. Since you appear cooperative, maybe we can reach an agreement and you get to live. Can I call you Naki?” The bartender responded. “Sure. Let’s hear more about our mutual agreement.” Dubrov smiled inwardly. This was going well so far. “My mob has been eying your bosses’ business for some time. Right now we don’t feel the need to take it over. Someday maybe, and if we do, we’ll make sure you survive to work for us. Right now we want something. A man came in today and asked for a special weapon. Naki, have you asked for delivery?” “No, I was going to do it tonight.” “Good, tonight is fine, but we want it modified to our special needs. The weapon must be a dud. No working bullets, no neurotoxin, and no firing pin. You understand?” “Yes, but why?” “Here you go again with the bad question.” Dubrov signaled the technician to give a little jolt. Naki jumped suddenly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything.” Dubrov pointed his finger at Naki. “I tell you what. I will answer this question. Your client intends to kill someone of considerable value to us. We can’t let that happen. So we set a trap, a fatal trap.” Dubrov chuckled a bit, which he noted caused Naki some discomfort. “One other thing. Do not send an assassin after your client. There is no need. Nothing will come back to bite your boss’s ass. Our cleaners are very good. You understand?” “Completely. It will be done exactly the way you want it.”

  “Good. We have our agreement. You will live. Screw it up or say anything to anyone, even your boss, you are a dead man. We will drive you back to your car.” Several minutes later the van stopped and Naki climbed out. Kee handed him a bag. “There’s a cell phone in the bag. Use it to place the special order. We’ll know if you don’t. Here’s your piece and a bag of bullets. We unloaded it. If I were you, I would reload it after we leave. I hear it’s a rough neighborhood.” Kee gave a smirk as he said it. The van sped rapidly away. Naki looked at it and noticed the plate was covered over. No big surprise, he thought. Even if he saw the plates, he knew he wouldn’t say or do anything about it. He enjoyed life too much. That night he used the new cellphone to place the order with the supplier. As usual, the supplier asked no questions, even though the order was unusual. He was sure the conversation was recorded. He was right.

  Two nights later the van watched the bar. Agent Dubrov spoke into his head mike. “Here comes the delivery. Start recording everything, including the exchange in the bar.” Some 15 minutes earlier they had recorded Cooper’s every move when he arrived in disguise. Agent Dubrov watched the live feed as the supplier entered the bar and nodded at the bartender. Naki pointed to the booth that Cooper was sitting in. The supplier walked over, sat and placed a small canvas bag on the table. He said, “Your turn.” Cooper slid the small case across the table. The supplier picked it up and rose to leave. Cooper said, “Don’t you want to check it?” The supplier smiled and said, “Trust is so important. If it ain’t right, they’ll find you floating in the river.” Cooper swallowed his drink, grabbed the bag, left a twenty on the table and left. Naki poured himself a stiff shot and swallowed it in one gulp. “Glad that’s over,” he mumbled. The supplier walked over to Naki and counted out the mob’s cut of the deal.

  As the supplier left, Kee’s voice came into Dubrov’s ear. “I planted the tracker on his car.” Dubrov smiled. At long last they had identified the supplier. In time, they would know where he operated and who he was. “All clear boys. Let’s get out of here. Don’t get too comfortable, our work is just starting.” Dubrov smiled. Not a bad night, he thought. Dubrov then sent an “eyes only” text message to Agents Raptor, Big Cat, Antonio and Juliet. He also sent the same message to Laurent’s bodyguards. Colonel Lanzo had made it very clear recently that all intel had to be shared with Laurent’s team. The message was simple. “Full alert. Cooper to make move against Laurent soon. Meeting at 8:00 first thing tomorrow morning to share details.”

  General Straub read the web version of the New York Times and then several news sites across the web. His supposedly secret testimony in Moscow was all over the web. There was no doubt on what he had said, as the leaks contained direct recordings of his testimony before the Earth First Council. The public reaction was already swift. President Chung’s ratings were slipping by the hour. Rushmore’s favorable ratings were moving up and were already ahead. Given the election was only weeks ahead, Rushmore looked like he would win. Tyler mused, That bitch Minkov knows what she’s doing. I’ve got to hand it to her. Already requests were coming in for interviews about the matter. Minkov and he had agreed that only one or two interviews would be granted, preferably with news outlets that either favored Rushmore or thought President Chung was not aggressive enough toward the alien threat. The General would stick to the line that he was indignant, indeed outraged, that his secret testimony would be leaked to the press. Minkov would stick with her no comments. Earth First must remain neutral and not interfere with members’ elections. Tyler was sure that Chung would blame him and suspect duplicity, but suspecting and proving were two different animals.

  Next Tyler read the intel from Colonel Lanzo about a possible attempt to assassinate Paul Laurent. While worried, he was pleased to see that the intel had been shared with Laurent’s bodyguards. Tyler might not like Minkov, but he gave her grudging respect now that she had kept her word. Assuming Rushmore won, that respect could only grow, mused Tyler. Tyler worried about Paul being in the East. He would be must safer if he had stayed at Area 51. He hoped everything would work out. Getting Cooper out of the picture and discrediting the bastard could make Cooper’s religious movement less of a worry. More resources could then be turned toward alien planning and defense. There would be no doubt that Rushmore as President would offer considerable cooperation toward that effort.

  Back in the Bronx, Coop
er sat at his desk staring at the weapon. It felt good in his hand. He could visualize the gun firing and Laurent falling, mortally wounded. Cooper suddenly snapped back to reality. Yes, the weapon would not show up on a metal detector, he thought. But it certainly would be found in a body search. There was no guarantee that he could get close enough to Laurent without a body search. He had two concerns. One, he had to get close to Laurent. Two, how could he smuggle the weapon in even with a body search? An idea slowly dawned. Yes, that would do it. He would use a colostomy bag carefully glued to his body with crazy glue. The gun would be inside it. No one would want to search the bag, he smiled. He could rig up a Velcro flap seal for access. He began to search the web for photos of colostomy bags, carefully studying how they were hooked up. He would get his Security Chief to procure a real bag and rig it with a flap seal. Undoubtedly, the Chief would wonder about it, but Cooper had no reason to distrust the man’s loyalty. He called the Chief and explained what he wanted. He was assured the item would be ready in a few days. Now, how do I get to Laurent? Cooper decided the direct simple approach was the answer. Just request an appointment. He would just say he had a project of mutual interest to present. If pressed, he would say he wanted to endow a large scholarship for STEMEO students. How could Laurent say no? Things were looking up. Jeremiah felt better than he had for days. “Ms. Gates, please come in here now.”

  Dubrov looked around at the group assembled in his conference room. Judging from facial expressions and body language, it was apparent that not all of them were comfortable being with each other. The discomfort was further evident by the groupings. Laurent and his bodyguards kept a little space between themselves and Agents Raptor and Big Cat. He noticed that even Antonio and Juliet seemed to keep some distance from Raptor and Big Cat. Still, by the time he was done talking, Dubrov was convinced that they would all be of like mind. Their purpose was singular. Protect Laurent and capture Cooper alive and have enough documented evidence to put him away for good and to discredit him among his followers. Simple task, what could go wrong? Dubrov knew that things could always go wrong, even with perfect planning. That’s why they were here now to make sure nothing went wrong. Dubrov felt a bit agitated, as he saw Colonel Lanzo’s face on the flat screen watching everything via satellite feed. Dubrov had no doubt, given Lanzo’s intense stare, that nothing had better go wrong.