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

by Steven Konkoly

  Not detecting anything an hour before showtime, she walked to the next cross street and took a left on Park Avenue, finding a bench near the Falls Church municipal center. She waited about thirty minutes before heading back down Park Avenue and slipping between two businesses connected to the lot. From her new vantage point behind a full trash dumpster, she had scanned for newcomers, starting with the spaces that had been empty. After five minutes passed and nothing grabbed her attention, Jessica started to wonder if she’d made a bad assumption.

  She was moments from leaving her position when the team sent to grab Bauer made a small mistake. A head poked up from the rear compartment of one of the SUVs. She barely caught it through the tinted windows, but a light across the street provided enough background illumination to see it. She’d low-crawled across the pavement to reach her current position, where she could accomplish her mission right now if she wanted.

  All she had to do was attach a GPS tracking unit to the SUV, preferably somewhere hidden, though it wasn’t required. Graves said she could throw the damn thing at the vehicle as it was pulling away if the situation required. Powerful magnets would do the rest.

  She had a better idea. Infinitely more risky, but exponentially more rewarding, a combination Jessica couldn’t resist. Daniel would not be happy with the revised plan. Not in the least.

  “Alpha Three, Alpha One is moving to the transfer point. Get the GPS unit in place and get out of there,” said Graves.

  “Alpha Three copies.”

  Jessica waited, finally hearing a commotion in the SUV next to her. She slid behind the minivan and planted the GPS under the bumper, continuing to the driver’s side of the vehicle in a low crouch. She paused, peeking around the corner. The rear driver’s door slammed shut and revealed a man already pulling the driver’s door open. He got in the driver’s seat, too focused on the task at hand to see her moving down the side of the SUV.

  She opened the rear driver’s side door and methodically fired into the cabin, starting with the guy in the cargo compartment and finishing with a single shot into the back of the driver’s neck after dispatching the man across from her. Jessica backed out and shut the door, headed for the back entrance to the coffee shop. She detected hurried movement through the clear glass door to the coffee shop and slowed her pace—to time everything perfectly.

  The door flew open, and two men barreled in her direction. The first one barked orders into a handheld radio. She pretended to talk animatedly into a phone with her left hand, keeping the pistol hidden behind her right thigh. Neither of them noticed that the object in her hand clearly wasn’t a phone.

  Jessica let the first man soft-shoulder her aside, bringing the business end of the suppressed pistol under the second man’s chin and firing. The leader abruptly stopped in his tracks. She flicked open the serrated blade in her left hand and stabbed him firmly, but not deeply in the upper left back. When his body automatically folded to the left in response to the pain, she slipped the arm over his lowered shoulder and placed the blade against his throat. The pistol went into the middle of his back.

  “Drop the radio and keep walking,” she said.

  He dropped the handheld and took a few choppy steps forward, faltering.

  “You have no idea how quick I am with this knife,” she hissed in his ear. “I’ll have your carotid slashed and a bullet in your lower spine before you realize you made a mistake. You’ll bleed out in this parking lot, clawing your way across the pavement toward the coffee shop. You won’t make it.”

  “What do you want?” he grunted.

  “I want you to keep walking,” she said, pressing the pistol into his back again.

  He moved stiffly but steadily past the bloodstained windshield of his SUV.

  “Don’t look. Keep moving. We’re headed toward that dumpster over there,” she said.

  Distant gunfire echoed off the buildings.

  “Keep going. Don’t make me carry you,” she said.

  They retraced the route she’d taken to arrive surreptitiously in the lot, stopping behind a two-story building on Park Street. Blue and red lights flashed off the building, the police officers both on and off duty at the Falls Church municipal center racing in their cars toward the reports of gunfire. She waited until the sirens faded and the street went quiet, prodding him forward onto Park Street.

  “Alpha Three, I have a good signal on the tracker, but it hasn’t moved. What are you seeing?”

  She tightened her grip on the knife and stuffed the pistol behind the small of her back, activating her radio. “I made an adjustment to the plan,” she said. “Will advise shortly. Tracker in place.”

  “Who are you talking to?” asked the man in front of her.

  “Friends. Keep walking,” she said, returning the pistol to his back.

  “Copy that, Alpha Three.”

  “We’re headed toward the police station,” he noted.

  “They’ll be too busy cleaning up your friends to notice,” she said. “See that park bench over there?”

  “I see it. You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Jessica stopped him directly in front of the far right side of the bench. With the knife fixed firmly to his throat, she turned his body left and pulled him into a seated position, sliding past the edge of the bench into the bushes behind. She rested comfortably on both knees, adjusting the knife so it wasn’t so visible from the street. It took a few seconds to find the opening at the bottom of the bench’s back and reestablish contact with the man’s body, just to reinforce the obvious. She had two ways to kill him quickly if he tried to escape or draw attention.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “We wait for my friends to finish their business.”

  “You’re pretty confident in your friends’ abilities.”

  “They’ve thwarted all of your little operations,” said Jessica.

  “Is that so?” he said, not sounding convinced.

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “No idea,” he said. “Enlighten me.”

  “Nicole Erak.”

  “Never heard of you,” he said.

  “Aka Jessica Petrovich.”

  The man stiffened. It wasn’t the most obvious reaction, but she felt it. A dark cloud of dread settled over her. This man shouldn’t know either of those names. She hadn’t expected a reaction. In fact, she’d been hoping for zero response. This changed everything.

  “My friends will be here shortly,” she said. “And yes, I’m confident in that assessment.”

  Chapter 42

  Vienna, Virginia

  Audra Bauer peered between the vehicle’s front seats at the well-lit European-style villa that materialized beyond the thick trees. She knew a few well-connected and wealthy people living in the D.C.’s Virginia suburbs, but she’d never seen something like this behind the private gates separating the Beltway elite from the government-subsidized hoi polloi that saturated the area.

  The SUV pulled even with a wide wrought-iron gate set in the middle of a vine-covered half-wall that defined the front entrance courtyard. A long clay-tile-covered porch wrapped around each side of the house. Her husband turned his head in the front seat and met her gaze, a look of deep concern evident on his face. She could read his mind.

  “Who owns this place?” she said.

  “Ernesto Galenden,” said Munoz. “He apparently owns several of these in the area.”

  “Must be nice,” said Bauer, nodding imperceptibly at her husband.

  “We’re safe here,” said Munoz.

  “For how long?” said Bauer.

  “The answer to that question is under constant reevaluation,” said Munoz.

  “Great,” said her husband. “How many people do you have out here?”

  “Right now, four inside,” said Munoz. “The rest are in this SUV or en route.”

  “You don’t have anybody walking the perimeter?” said David Bauer.
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br />   “This place is untraceable,” said Munoz.

  “Let’s hope so,” said David.

  “Now I have your husband breaking my balls,” said Munoz. “This deal keeps getting better.”

  “My husband spent eight years with the 75th Ranger Regiment. Got out in ninety-eight,” said Bauer.

  “And you didn’t think to mention that earlier?” said Munoz.

  “Must have slipped my mind,” said David Bauer before opening the door and getting out of the vehicle.

  “We had a shooter in the front seat the whole time and didn’t even know it,” said Daly, shaking his head.

  “He’s riding a desk now, so don’t get any ideas,” said Bauer.

  “I heard that,” yelled her husband while walking around the front of the SUV.

  “Seriously. He’s off-limits,” said Bauer.

  “Got it,” said Munoz, hopping down from the SUV to let her out.

  She walked with her husband to the arched mahogany entry doors and waited for Daly and Munoz to catch up. The SUV disappeared from sight behind a wide one-story stucco structure to the right of the house, which she assumed to be a garage. Munoz pressed the illuminated doorbell and stood with his hands behind his back.

  “Seriously?” said Bauer.

  “The door is locked,” said Munoz before winking. “Best we can do without perimeter guards.”

  She shook her head. Staying here sounded less and less appealing by the moment. The door opened after a short delay, and an Indian-looking guy in his twenties appeared in the doorway.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” he said. “Anish Gupta at your service, ma’am.”

  “What?” said Audra, turning to Munoz. “Is he part of the team?”

  “Hell yeah. I work the electronic magic. I was out there on the streets when all of this went down. We just got back.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “I remember the name from before.”

  “You thought I was the help?” said Gupta, making air quotes with his fingers.

  “No,” said Audra. “I really didn’t. I’m a little out of it right now. Sorry.”

  “Sorry doesn’t make me feel better about my brown skin,” said Gupta.

  “I’m really—” started Bauer.

  “Hey, just fucking with you! Seriously. Welcome to the sickest house you’ll ever see,” he said, gesturing for them to enter. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” said Audra, utterly confused.

  “You’ll have to excuse Gupta,” said Munoz. “He wasn’t held as a child.”

  “What the fuck, man?” said Gupta, with a hurt look. “I was in foster care my whole childhood. Some of us didn’t have loving parents.”

  Munoz raised both hands. “Sorry, Anish. I really didn’t know that.”

  “Gupta! Are you gonna make them stand out there all day?” said Graves, appearing behind Gupta.

  The second man looked at least twice Gupta’s age, with a balding head.

  “What? No,” said Gupta, stepping out of the way.

  “Timothy Graves,” said the man. “Welcome to our temporary humble abode. And by the way, Anish was raised in a very comfortable and loving home in a rich suburb on the north side of Indianapolis.”

  “Come on, dude! You’re ruining my street cred,” said Gupta.

  “Trust me. You cashed in the last of your street cred when you graduated summa cum laude from MIT.”

  “Damn. You’re a regular gangster,” said Audra Bauer.

  “Hey, that’s not—” started Gupta.

  “Just fucking with you, Anish,” she said. “Thank you for working your magic today.”

  “Any time,” said Gupta.

  “Foster care,” said Munoz. “Should have known better.”

  “Dude, that was the first time I’ve ever seen you look sorry. Classic.”

  Audra took in the grand two-story hallway, which ended at the back of the house, with a floor-to-ceiling bank of windows. “Very humble.”

  “It’s kind of crazy,” said Graves. “And the place is fully stocked for us. Whatever you need, it’s here.”

  “Right now, I need to see Karl Berg,” said Audra. “Try to make sense of this insanity.”

  “He’ll be relieved to see you,” said Graves. “He’s been monitoring the situation very closely, against doctor’s orders.”

  “I can’t believe this happened,” said Audra. “How is he doing?”

  Darryl Jackson appeared from the shadows of the closest doorway in the two-story entry hallway.

  “He’ll survive,” said Jackson. “But he’s in bad fucking shape.”

  She detected resentment in Jackson’s voice. “How bad?”

  “Bad enough,” said Jackson. “This shit got out of hand—real quick.”

  “Not by my choice,” Audra said defensively.

  “Nobody’s blaming anybody, but he ain’t good,” said Jackson. “He wanted to see you right away.”

  Audra squeezed her husband’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll fix us something to eat,” said David Bauer, kissing her cheek and letting go of her hand.

  Her husband headed toward the back of the grand hallway with Munoz and Daly while she made her way toward Jackson.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” she said, offering her hand.

  He glanced at her hand skeptically before shaking it. “Wish it was under different circumstances,” said Jackson before guiding her through a dim hallway to a series of rooms that occupied the right half of the house.

  “So do I,” she said. “How did you know they’d come after me?”

  “Karl pieced it together,” said Jackson. “They grabbed him right out from under me last night. We’d just finished dinner.”

  “He was really looking forward to having dinner with you,” said Bauer.

  “Karl mentioned it?” said Jackson.

  She nodded. “The day before. He stopped by with something.”

  “He came by your office?” said Jackson.

  “He did,” she said.

  “Then all of this goes down,” said Jackson. “Sounds like somebody over at the CIA didn’t like this little something the two of you discussed.”

  “Apparently not.”

  Jackson stopped at a closed door, gripping the doorknob. “You sure you’re ready to see this?” he said. “He’s in bad shape.”

  “Yes.”

  He opened the door and nodded for her to enter. “I’ll let the two of you catch up.”

  “Thank you, Darryl,” she said, patting his shoulder. “For everything.”

  Jackson’s cautious look softened. “I’d do anything for that fool, and he knows it.”

  “Then we have that in common. He can be persuasive.”

  “Audra?” said Berg.

  “See you in a few,” said Jackson before leaving.

  She stepped into the massive room, immediately locating her friend. Berg lay on a patio lounger in front of the king bed, with a handheld radio gripped in his left hand. Even from the opposite side of the room, she could see that his face was badly bruised.

  “Everyone got sick of you already?” she said, keeping the conversation humorous.

  “Funny. I’m supposed to be resting. Out of the action,” said Berg. “Welcome to the recovery wing of Galenden’s villa.”

  She approached the lounger, noting the small scattered red stains on the white sheet pulled up to his neck. He caught her staring at the spotted sheet.

  “Seventy-six cuts,” said Berg. “They didn’t know what they were doing.”

  “Jesus. I’m sorry, Karl,” she said. “Who did this to you? What did they want?”

  “It’s complicated,” he said.

  “How complicated?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” said Bauer.

  “I mean I truly don’t know,” said Berg. “Nothing makes sense, which is why we need to spend some time sorting through the
facts—as a group. A lot has gone on over the past twenty-four hours.”

  “When do you want to start?” she said.

  “As soon as they can wheel me into the main room,” said Berg. “We can’t afford to lose any time.”

  Bauer nodded, taking his hand. “Thank you, Karl. I have no idea what they had planned for me, but judging by this—”

  “I don’t think they had plans to kidnap you, Audra,” said Berg. “They were looking to close the loop on this.”

  “On what?”

  “All things Reznikov,” said Berg.

  “The gift that keeps on giving,” she said. “I’ll get everyone together.”

  Chapter 43

  Vienna, Virginia

  Berg felt somewhat embarrassed by his predicament. He lay in an admittedly plush lounge chair from the back patio, situated in the center of the home’s two-story-ceilinged great room. Not a bad place to convalesce under normal circumstances, but nothing was normal about the current situation. He’d been transferred to the lounge chair from a bed and carted here like royalty so they didn’t have to squeeze everyone into the bedroom to include him in the meeting.

  On top of that, they needed quick access to Graves and Gupta’s suite of electronics. It made far more sense to bring him to the party instead of the other way around despite the fact that he looked ridiculous and largely out of place among them. At least he wasn’t in a hospital bed. That would have been the icing on the cake.

  He caught Jackson shaking his head, trying to stifle a laugh. His friend glanced at him and looked away just as quickly, putting his head down to laugh into his hand.

  “What?” said Berg.

  “Nothing,” said Jackson, breaking into more silent laughter.

  “Seriously. What?”

  “I’m sorry, man. You look like…I don’t know what you look like.”

  “Like the mummy,” said Melendez, pushing Jackson into a full laugh.

  “Sorry, Karl,” said Jackson. “I’m fucking slaphappy at this point, and you do look a little out of place lying where the coffee table used to be.”

  A few more laughs followed; then everyone settled down for the serious business at hand.