OMEGA: A Black Flagged Thriller (The Black Flagged Series Book 5)

by Steven Konkoly

  “I concur,” said Berg, looking past Jackson to Munoz. “We need to warn Audra Bauer, a deputy director with the CIA. She was instrumental to stopping Reznikov in 2007, so she’s one of us. She has to be in danger, especially now. Where are we?”

  “We’re safe,” said Munoz. “This is one of a dozen or more properties in the D.C. area owned by Ernesto Galenden through his various international corporations. Sanderson called in a favor.”

  “Why do you think the Russians are after Bauer?” asked Jackson.

  “Russians? Who said this was the Russians?” said Berg, trying to sit up.

  “The doctor said you need to lie still, as in perfectly still, or you’ll start leaking like a sieve again,” said Jackson. “Did you hear what happened with the Petroviches?”

  “Jesus,” said Berg. “I knew something was off with that. I’m the one that asked Sanderson to keep an eye on them.”

  “That turned out to be a good call, possibly one that saved your life too. Srecko Hadzic came close to kidnapping Jessica in the hospital. Munoz and a small team managed to turn the tables on that. Hadzic is dead.”

  “Hadzic?” said Berg, looking utterly perplexed. “That’s not poss—shit. How is that possible?”

  “It’s not, really. Unless you have some serious backing,” said Munoz. “That’s why Sanderson thinks this is a Russian job.”

  “The guys that took me weren’t Russian,” said Berg. “Military contractors, if I had to guess.”

  “There’s some pretty sketchy groups out there. Could be a team hired out by the Russians through a proxy,” said Jackson.

  “To kidnap and torture a CIA officer?” said Berg. “How far down have some of these paramilitary contractor companies fallen?”

  He ignored the obvious implication about Brown River. They’d been the first serious security contractor company to win major Department of Defense and State Department contracts, growing at a nearly unstoppable pace after 9/11. By the time other former military and security entrepreneurs jumped on the bandwagon and started to form similar companies, most of the available talent was taken. The rest of the companies fell between decent and crappy on the quality spectrum. Even Brown River had its quality inconsistencies from time to time.

  “I don’t mean to sound insensitive, Karl, but—”

  “When has that ever stopped you?”

  “It hasn’t,” said Jackson, deciding not to sugarcoat his question. “What the fuck did they want from you?”

  “They wanted the name of my source in Moscow.”

  “Sounds like the Russians,” said Munoz.

  “They’ve had two years to pull this off,” said Berg. “Now, all of a sudden, barely a few days after I’m passed new information from my informant, Moscow decides this is important? And they wanted to know everything I knew about Reznikov? I smell a rat, and it’s not a Russian one.”

  “How do the Petroviches figure into this?” asked Munoz. “It looks like Jessica’s mother was poisoned. Something that takes months to kill, like dimethylmercury.”

  “I don’t know,” said Berg, closing his eyes. They shot open a second later. “When did she get put into hospice?”

  “Four days ago,” Munoz replied.

  “Right. And a local reporter decides out of the blue that it’s big news and creates a whole story around her dad’s sordid past. It felt contrived enough for me to warn Sanderson. Now it feels calculated, like everything else going on.”

  “You sound like the general,” said Munoz. “Except he’s convinced this is the Russians cleaning up loose ends related to Vektor.”

  “Somebody’s cleaning up loose ends. I’m just not convinced it’s the Russians. Our current administration also has a vested interest in permanently erasing any link to Reznikov.”

  “It sounds like we need to secure Bauer until this can be sorted,” said Munoz. “Does she have family?”

  “A husband that works in Tyson’s Corner at a government think tank. Grown kids on the West Coast.”

  “Daniel is bringing Jessica back here. Maybe we should divert him to pick up Bauer’s husband, so we can take that leverage out of the immediate equation.”

  Berg nodded. “I know David Bauer well enough. I’ll give him a call. You have my phone?”

  “Our tech team downloaded your contact list, call history, all that shit, well before we made our way here. I have a satellite phone for you and a tablet with all that information,” said Jackson. “Your friends here don’t take any chances.”

  “That’s why I had you contact them,” said Berg. “Nobody else could have pulled this off.”

  Munoz looked puzzled. “Why not have Ms. Bauer call her own husband?”

  “Because I want to test a theory. If I’m wrong, this is the Russians, and we can all rest easy.”

  “Rest easy?” Jackson echoed.

  “Yeah,” said Berg. “Because if I’m right, we are most truly fucked.”

  Chapter 38

  Falls Church, Virginia

  Audra Bauer drove southwest on Lee Highway, approaching the Interstate 66 overpass. She’d left significantly later than usual from The George Bush Center for Intelligence, per Karl Berg’s instructions. Late enough to take advantage of the fading sunlight on the way to their rendezvous if she detected she had picked up a tail. The other benefit was the traffic. While the roads in and around this area were always busy, they wouldn’t be constrictive. Berg had insisted that this was important, once again, in case she needed to take evasive action.

  She didn’t know what to think of Karl’s late afternoon call, heavy on wild conspiracy theories about the Russians and light on any verifiable facts or evidence. She’d almost hung up on him and called the Protective Services Division to arrange a Surveillance and Intervention team escort for herself. But Karl had used a long ago established code word toward the end of their conversation that meant her life was in immediate danger. He might have sounded unhinged, single-mindedly focused on the Russians again, but she didn’t believe he’d play that card for any reason other than its intended purpose.

  Now she was on the way to meet him at her favorite coffee shop in Falls Church, though she suspected he had different plans for the final location of their rendezvous. He’d told her to park in back and enter through the rear entrance. Bauer figured he’d intercept her in the parking lot and drive her somewhere else, in case she’d picked up a tail. She still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced she’d go with him. It would all depend on how he looked and acted. She carried a stun gun and pepper spray in her coat pockets just in case he didn’t take no for an answer.

  Traffic on Lee Highway, a local two-lane state route, lightened significantly after the Interstate 66 exchange, the beltway artery grabbing late commuters headed to distant western D.C. suburbs. Glancing in her rearview mirror, she noted a few pairs of headlights following her into the heart of Falls Church.

  Bauer intended to turn on East Columbia Street, a few blocks up, and drive around the neighborhoods, just to be certain she hadn’t been followed. East Columbia Street was at the next stoplight, which she could see was green and had been green for a short while. She’d try to time her approach to run the light just as it transitioned from yellow to red.

  As her car neared the intersection, it looked like the timing would work out. The light turned yellow just before she reached the point on the road where it opened into a left-turn-only lane. When the light immediately went from yellow to red, she pounded her fist on the wheel. The lights in the downtown area were erratic at best. It didn’t matter. She’d still take a little trip through the neighborhoods, emerging on Broad Street.

  Bauer triggered her car’s turn signal and eased into the turn lane, rolling to a stop at the intersection. A black Town Car sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the light next to her two lanes over, next to the curb. Not an unusual sight at all in the D.C. area. She stared at the dark sedan for a few seconds, then returned her attention to the intersection. Catching her eye f
or a moment, a late model, oversized SUV started to turn onto North Washington Street from the direction she intended to take. She glanced up at the light, then back at the SUV, noticing that it had stopped right next to her car. Her right hand shot into her coat pocket. The rear passenger door was open; two men wearing ski masks were rushing her car.

  Chapter 39

  Falls Church, Virginia

  Melendez watched the intersection through the second-floor corner window of the vacant, unleased building next to North Washington Street, on the opposite side of the westbound lanes. His earpiece crackled.

  “This is echo one. Bauer is pulling up to Columbia. I need to cut the light short.”

  “Oscar One ready,” said Melendez.

  “Oscar Two on the way.”

  Oscar Two was composed of Sayar and Petrovich, who had parked in the far north reaches of an expansive parking lot across North Washington Street. They’d start moving through the lot, ready to run street-level interference if a threat emerged that Melendez couldn’t handle. They had no idea if Bauer had been followed.

  “Alpha One pulling into position.”

  Munoz was in charge of Alpha One, the team that would grab Bauer from her car. With Mazurov driving, Daly would assist with the transfer. It wouldn’t take much to unravel this op. They were stretched precariously thin. A silver, four-door BMV sedan approached the intersection, slowing for the red light initiated by Graves and Gupta.

  “Alpha One moving.”

  Melendez rapidly scanned the thin westbound traffic, focusing his attention on the black Town Car that pulled up to the light, two lanes over. A white SUV entered his field of view, screeching to a halt next to Bauer’s sedan. He settled into the suppressed M110’s fixed stock and pressed his right eye into the 4X ACOG sight, centering the green reticle on the Town Car’s rear driver’s side door, which sprang open moments later.

  A single 7.62mm armor-piercing round struck the man that started to emerge from the car, knocking him back inside. Melendez methodically and rapidly fired tightly spaced groupings of bullets at the vehicle’s most likely points of occupancy. The driver’s window shattered last, the most obvious and immobile occupant taking the last rounds in the magazine. He reloaded, never taking his eyes off the Town Car. Sounds of a pitched struggle between Audra Bauer and Alpha One reached the second-story window.

  Tires screeched to the east, momentarily pulling his attention away from the bullet-riddled sedan. An SUV lurched onto North Washington Street, pointing in Alpha One’s direction.

  “This is Alpha One. Engaging SUV headed toward the transfer point. Alpha Two, confirm black Town Car at intersection is neutralized,” said Melendez, swinging his rifle in the direction of the new threat.

  Melendez centered the reticle on the driver’s side of the windshield and pressed the trigger three times as flashes of gunfire erupted from multiple points along the incoming SUV.

  Shit.

  He canted the rifle forty-five degrees and acquired the vehicle with the side-mounted unmagnified reflex sight, intent on suppressing the gunfire. Keeping the sight’s red dot centered on the racing SUV, he repeatedly pressed the trigger until his thirty-round magazine ran dry.

  Chapter 40

  Falls Church, Virginia

  Munoz’s body locked in pain, the familiar static discharge sound of a stun gun filling the air. Bauer didn’t waste the moment, pivoting under him and judo flipping his stunned body to the street. He landed hard, a sharp kick to the side launching him into the BMW’s rear tire. The stun gun sounded again and he flinched, anticipating another dose of high-voltage agony. When it didn’t come, he sprang upward, fully expecting to rescue Daly from a similar beat down.

  Instead, Daly had managed to turn the tables on the stun-gun ninja. The SEAL had her arm bent in an awkward angle over her shoulder, the stun gun zapping her own collarbone area, but she still resisted. Her feet pushed back against the side of the SUV, preventing Daly from pushing her inside, despite the high-voltage snap, crackle, and pop.

  Munoz quickly closed the gap, hell-bent on knocking one of her legs loose so they could stuff her inside. They didn’t have time to explain this to her. Another threat was inbound. Gunfire exploded from the approaching SUV, drowning out the steady, suppressed fire from Melendez’s rifle above them. Bullets snapped through the air and thunked into the adjacent vehicles. They really needed to get off the street.

  A bullet shattered the window next to Daly and Bauer, miraculously missing their entangled mass. Bauer dropped her legs in response, and Munoz barreled forward, knocking her into the SUV. He sat on her until Daly opened the door on the opposite side a few seconds later and hauled her the rest of the way in. He closed the door and tapped Mazurov on the shoulder, yelling for him to get moving.

  With Bauer still struggling in both of their grips, the SUV raced east on North Washington Street, sailing past the inbound threat without taking any fire. Warm spring air rushed through the empty window next to him. Melendez had done his job well. He always did.

  “Get off me!” screamed Bauer, squirming underneath them.

  “Any time now, David!” Munoz yelled.

  A terrified face appeared between the front seats. “Audra! It’s me.”

  She stopped struggling for a moment, resuming with even more ferocity. “You fucking animals!” she screeched. “He has nothing to do with this!”

  “Audra! Everything is fine! Karl Berg sent me,” said David Bauer. “He told me to tell you that he’s sorry he couldn’t meet you for your favorite hazelnut-flavored latte.”

  “Get off me,” said Audra Bauer. “How dare you involve my husband!”

  “He demanded to be here,” said Munoz. “Are we good?”

  “We’re far from good,” she said, still struggling.

  “Honey, they’re on our side. I’ve been with them for a few hours in a safe location,” said her husband.

  “Where the fuck is Karl?”

  “Karl can’t move right now,” David answered. “He was severely beaten and tortured.”

  “Jesus,” she muttered, all of the resistance melting away.

  “Can I get off you now?” asked Munoz. “Without getting a straight arm across the face, that is?”

  “We’re good.”

  Munoz and Daly let her up, buckling her in between them. She started to talk, but he silenced her with a curt shake of his head.

  “Echo One, how are we looking?” asked Munoz.

  “No police units between your position and the interstate. Alpha units need to hustle. First responding unit is like twenty seconds out from the intersection,” Graves responded.

  “Oscar One moving. I don’t think a pickup is advisable,” said Melendez.

  “Oscar Two concurs. We’re almost back at the car, but I’d rather be moving away from the intersection when the police arrive,” said Daniel. “We didn’t open fire, so our cover is still intact. We can circle back around to a busier street in the downtown area and grab Alpha One on our way to grab Alpha Three.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Munoz. “Echo One, help them out.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Where are we headed?” Bauer asked.

  “Safe house owned by a trusted friend,” said Munoz. “A nice, secluded spot. Karl’s waiting for us.”

  “Why didn’t Karl give me a heads-up about your plan?” said Bauer. “That could have gone really badly for you if I had a knife with me. And who exactly are you?”

  “Jeffrey Munoz. At your service,” he said, smiling at her.

  “No shit,” she said, shaking her head. “Sanderson’s people?”

  “Recognize me?” said the driver, turning his face toward her for a moment.

  “You gotta be kidding me!” she said. “Mazurov?”

  “I go by Eric Freeman these days,” he said.

  “And you? You don’t look like one of the original members,” she said, nodding at Daly.

  “I led the raid on Sanderson’s compound
in Argentina two years ago. Scott Daly.”

  “Who else is involved?” she asked.

  “The Petroviches and a few others,” said Munoz.

  “And you all happened to be in the country at the same time when this Russian plot unfolded?”

  “Not exactly,” said Munoz, checking the street behind them.

  “What does that mean?”

  “I think it’s better if Karl explains it,” said Munoz. “Whatever happened here may not be the Russians.”

  Chapter 41

  Falls Church, Virginia

  Jessica Petrovich crouched behind a minivan, waiting for the signal from Graves. She’d arrived at the lot a few hours earlier in a car she’d stolen from the Tyson’s Corner Galleria Mall parking garage. She’d parked in the middle of the lot and walked through the back door of the Freaky Bird Coffee Roasters.

  Cappuccino and scone in hand, she walked around the quaint downtown area, ducking into shops and killing time. An hour before the never-to-happen rendezvous between Karl Berg and Audra Bauer, she strolled past the lot along West Maple Street, casually scanning the cars for any obvious signs of surveillance, taking a mental note of the empty spaces. Nothing appeared off.

  Berg had asked Audra to park behind the coffee shop so she could slip into the place unobserved from the street. From an espionage field-craft perspective, the request made little sense, which was why he had suggested it. The shop had wide, floor-to-ceiling windows facing Broad Street, so it was ridiculous to suggest that they might remain unseen.

  Their possible eavesdroppers would make the same observation, deducting that the parking lot request was a ruse to intercept Bauer and move her to a safe location. They’d station at least one team, if not two, in the immediate vicinity. Jessica predicted one team inside the parking lot and another inside the coffee shop to block that avenue of escape. A third team nearby on West Maple Street or the bank parking lot across the street was not out of the question.