Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  It was then that Alex saw a way. It still revolved around choice. If he could convince Parks to make an exchange, his life for Nikki’s, it was a move Alex would be more than willing to make. Perhaps this was the purpose of Kunchin’s words and of his gift of Seng Ge, Alex thought. He instinctively grabbed the hand rests when he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, a result of the aircraft quickly dropping altitude. They were beginning their final decent, Alex realized. They would be on the ground soon. Two-Good’s choices will be in front of him soon enough, Alex thought, and through the seeds he had planted in his captor’s mind, Alex would have his answers.

  21

  Captivity

  Nikki anxiously paced the 10x10 cell. The original design of the room dated back to the 16th century, and the ghosts of countless prisoners held in this very chamber over several generations were almost palpable. The small medieval enclosure still had bars but newer rods, replacements Parks had installed during renovations to keep a certain “air of authenticity” as he had explained to Nikki when he first locked her up. Still, despite the Draconian history, the rest of the cell was more civil and somewhat modernized, with new stone floors, a small bed with fresh linens, an aluminum sink and toilet hidden behind a small partition.

  The drive from the airport had been a surreal experience. After she was escorted off the airplane, she had been placed in the back of a Chevy Suburban, a black, ominous-looking vehicle with tinted windows, similar to security vehicles she had seen during presidential escorts. The large SUV had been one of three vehicles in a caravan, and it trailed a Maybach limousine that carried Parks, with the Maybach following another Suburban filled with armed security personnel.

  Not being told where they were going, Nikki recalled eagerly glancing out the Suburban’s windows to see if she could identify landmarks that might provide a clue as to where they had landed, and she was shocked by what she saw. It looked to her as if she had been time warped into the Cold War era. She recognized the architectural designs of the buildings and Cyrillic lettering scrolled across edifices and storefronts—

  clearly Soviet in origin—along with several flags adorned with the iconic hammer and sickle insignia. These belonged to the long deceased nation state of the Soviet Union. At the very least, she thought she must be somewhere in Eastern Europe. They drove past a stunning array of the ‘80s era monuments. Nikki looked on in disbelief when they drove past a statue of Joseph Stalin that stood over eight feet tall, erected in front of what looked to be a State Department building. She had no idea what part of Eastern Europe would still subscribe to Stalinist ideology.

  The caravan of vehicles traveled through this mysterious city of the past with presidential-level authority. Streets had been blocked off, and they had encountered no moving vehicles along the way. Bystanders stopped whatever mundane tasks they were doing and watched, their faces always deadpan, as the parade of three vehicles motored through intersections, ignoring red lights and traffic signage, never slowing until they reached their final destination.

  As they drove through the enormous iron gates of Parks’ estate, Nikki felt like she had traveled even farther back in a time warp, all the way to the 16th century.

  The vehicles approached a walled-in castle estate that was situated on at least fifty acres, and as the caravan traveled down the long winding drive, Nikki noticed several gunmen patrolling the well-weathered, sand-colored twenty-foot stone walls that circumscribed the grounds.

  Once inside the compound, Nikki took note of several structures that made up the estate, with one palatial structure in the center of the estate that looked fit for an Ottoman King. Four stories high, the building’s medieval design had a watchtower on each corner of the simple rectangular design. It’s feudal look was modern-day enhanced by a series of radar dishes that protruded from watchtowers, along with a caged-in grid-work array of transformers and coils that sat next to the building. These indicated an independent power source. Nikki surmised that if Parks ran a large scale import and export business out of this locale, illicit or not, he would require a great deal of sophisticated computer technology at his disposal. If she could find the control room for this system, or perhaps even have access to a workstation, she could access PHOEBE. She just had to find a way to break free.

  “Has the food not been to your liking?” Lucas Parks asked, his voice spooking Nikki. She turned to see him standing outside her cell. He looked different than when she had seen him last; he was now neatly groomed and wearing a perfectly-tailored, Black Label Armani suit. He was eyeing the small aluminum tray that contained a salad, lemon pepper chicken breast, and a small piece of apple pie. It sat on the floor in the corner of the cell, untouched.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You should eat. You’ll need your strength.”

  Parks studied Nikki for several seconds, and it made her uncomfortable. “Where’s Alex?” she finally asked.

  “He will be here shortly.”

  “What do you want from us?”

  Parks stepped closer to the cell bars.“What do you know of Coalition Properties? Of James Howe?”

  “Is that who’s behind this? The Coalition? Do you work for them?”

  Nikki saw a flicker of anger in Parks’ eyes. She implied employment on purpose, implied servitude to provoke a reaction from Parks. She now knew that Coalition Properties was somehow involved in this, and at best there was an uneasy alliance between Parks and the organization that had unsuccessfully tried to control Alex. Perhaps those at the Coalition were trying to control Lucas Parks as well.

  Nikki fought her fear and held Parks’ gaze, waiting to see if the anger in his eyes would subside, and if so, whether there was the hope, however slight, that this monster could be negotiated with in some way. And if not, if he held his rage at her words, it would confirm to her that he was a pure psychopath, someone who could not be bargained with, and her death was all but certain. She tried not to show relief as his face broke out in a knowing smile.

  Parks realized he had underestimated his captive, letting his emotions get the best of him via her implication. The result had been giving up a little information for free. Although she appeared frightened of her situation, she was still thinking clearly. He was mildly impressed. He would not underestimate her again.

  “Just answer the questions, please.”

  “Coalition Properties is a monstrous organization that abuses its power. And I’ve never heard of James Howe. Did he replace that bastard Richard Brown?” Nikki wanted to imply that if there was conflict between Parks and the Coalition that she would come out on Parks’ side. Nikki’s goal was simply to buy time. Buy time for her to plan a potential escape, if the opportunity presented itself, and buy time for Alex when he arrived.

  She watched Parks pace in front of her cell, thinking, a predator wrapped in Armani, trying to decide the fate of his prey. When he stopped and turned back to her, it was so abrupt that it caught her off guard.

  “PHOEBE,” Parks said. Then he waited.

  Nikki knew if she denied knowledge of her landmark software program, it would only serve to insult Parks one more time, and that would be a step too far. To a man like Parks, twice insulted would amount to a serious offense. She remembered the blade and his warning on the plane.

  “PHOEBE is just a computer program,” Nikki finally replied.

  “That finds patterns in enormous data sets. Which you in turn used to make a great deal of money,” Parks said.

  Nikki did her best to hide her relief. If that’s all Parks thought PHOEBE could do, he might view her as only leverage and not a threat.

  “That was a long time ago,” Nikki stated.

  “Would you say she’s more powerful than your friend?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just ran a simple computer program.”

  Parks smiled at her lie. Then his visage went cold. “I want access codes to your software program. I want to use its abilities to control the markets, like
you once did. Give me access, or your friend Alex Luthecker will pay with his life. If not both, I will have one of you or the other in my employ; and it doesn’t matter to me which one. You have until he arrives.” Parks turned and walked away from Nikki’s cell before she had a chance to reply.

  Marcos Drugal looked around the room he was being held in. It was small, a police interrogation room with grey concrete walls and a one-way mirror to his right. He turned toward that window and examined his reflection. It was the first time he’d had a chance to look at himself since his physical encounter with Alex Luthecker, and he noted that his left eye was dark purple, and the right side of his jaw was swollen. These were not the worst injuries he had suffered during a physical confrontation, and although it was painful to smile at those who he knew were watching him on the other side of the window, he made it a point to show them as big a grin as he could manage, considering his fractured jaw and loosened teeth. Russian captivity in Siberia is far worse than this, he thought, and it was important that he show his captors that he wasn’t afraid. When the pain in his face became unbearable, he turned away from the window and stared down at the stainless-steel table he had been seated behind until the pain faded. He looked at his bruised right wrist, currently handcuffed to a bar that ran across the length of the table. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, gathering his energy for the series of questions and potential hostility he knew would come. He opened his eyes at the sound of a door latch.

  Officer Dino Rodriguez entered the room with a file in his hand. Dressed in crisp new LAPD blues, he appeared fully recovered from his time trapped under the city in the abandoned Metro 417 subway station. He sat across from Drugal and placed the file on the table between them.

  “You are, as they say, a beat cop?” Drugal taunted in broken English.

  “You are, as we say, an enemy combatant. Do you know what that means?”

  Drugal said nothing.

  “It means you don’t get a lawyer. It means you get locked away with vicious criminals who will see you as their enemy and want to hurt you. It means no trial, no jury, and you will never be seen or heard from again.”

  “The new American justice system. Much like the old Soviet justice system.”

  “Be that as it may, it’s what awaits you, for attacking an abandoned train station in Los Angeles with an RPG. Unless you tell me what I want to know.”

  “You are not a detective yet? Will this result in a…promotion for you?”

  “I have five minutes with you until Homeland Security steps in. Those five minutes can influence what I put in my report.” Rodriguez tapped the file on the table with his finger to drive home his point. “And let’s just say that what I put in my report, greatly influences whether you get held in solitary confinement or get thrown into the general population, while Homeland decides what they want to do with you.” Rodriguez leaned in across the table to get Drugal’s attention.“You know what’s interesting? Somehow, word got out on the street that a foreign terrorist who hates America and attacked this great nation is headed to San Quentin. Now; I can’t say this for sure, but my guess is the lifers, you know the ones locked up for murder and are never getting out, are aware this person will be joining them soon, and to attack America? Well, that’s almost the worst thing a scumbag can do outside of molesting children. My guess is they’re already sharpening their shivs in anticipation of your arrival.”

  “I have…friends.”

  “Your enemies far outnumber them. And you now have three minutes before you get shipped.”

  “And what do you wish to know?”

  “I know that Nation One Security, your former employer, is technically owned by Coalition Properties. The State Department has already given them immunity for anything you’ve done, alleging that you acted completely on your own. In other words, you and your partner are the patsies. What I want to know is how does crime lord Lucas Parks fit in? How is he involved with Coalition Properties?”

  Drugal shrugged ignorance.

  “Where are Nicole Ellis and Alex Luthecker? Where has he taken them?”

  Drugal said nothing.

  “I tell you what; I’ll make it easy for you. Tell me just one thing that I want to know. Tell me where they are, and I’ll see that you get solitary.”

  “And what…becomes of me then?”

  Rodriguez noticed beads of sweat on Drugal’s forehead. “Cut whatever deal you want with the Homeland vampires. I don’t give a shit. That’s your problem. But I can promise you this; you won’t get that far. You won’t get past tonight in general population if you don’t tell me at least that one bit of information.”

  Drugal stayed quiet.

  “Okay then. I hope you have a friendly bunkmate. But not too friendly if you know what I mean,” Rodriguez said as he stood up from the table.

  “Oh, and by the way, your partner Vasilevich has already indicated he will be more than happy to cooperate, so I win no matter what, and it’s only degrees of losing for you.” Rodriguez picked the file up from the table and headed for the door.

  “Wait.”

  Rodriguez turned back.

  “If I tell you where they are, it will not help you.”

  “But it will help you. Of course if you lie…”

  “Trans Dniester.”

  “Where?”

  “Moldova. Near Ukraine. Where Mr. Parks cannot be touched.” Drugal forced another painful smile as he looked at Rodriguez. “Where he is king.”

  “Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Yaw asked Winn as both men, along with Chris Aldrich, watched Officer Dino Rodriguez question Marcos Drugal on the other side of the glass.

  “I think he believes Parks is untouchable,” Winn replied.

  “I’m sure Parks thinks he’s untouchable. I’m sure he doesn’t care if we know where he’s holding Alex and Nikki,” Chris Aldrich added.

  They watched Rodriguez leave Drugal and the interrogation room. Less than a minute later, Rodriguez entered the observation room.

  “Their stories corroborate,” the young officer told Yaw, Winn, and Chris. “None of them want to go in the general population.”

  “What will Homeland Security do with them?” Chris asked.

  “Honestly? If Coalition Properties is somehow part of this?”

  “They’re dead,” Chris answered.

  “I’d say that’s a distinct possibility. So this Trans Dniester place. Anyone ever heard of it?” Rodriguez asked.

  “Some of our Safe Block residents have been trafficked from there,” Winn

  answered. “They tell stories of drug running and people disappearing in the night. And guns. Many, many guns. Manufactured and shipped all over the world.”

  “So Lucas Parks is holed up in some small gun-running nation next to the Ukraine. And he’s got your people. What do you guys want to do?”

  “Go find our boy,” Yaw answered, without hesitation. “That’s what we want to do. And Nikki. And bring them home.”

  “I’m in,” Chris added.

  They watched as Winn turned away, undecided.

  “Yeah, well, that won’t be very easy, now will it?” Rodriguez stated more than asked.

  “Can you help arrange transportation?” Yaw asked.

  “Under the radar? Not without pulling some serious favors.”

  “But you could?”

  “We’re talking a near lawless Russian province. Run by a psychopath that’s as brutal as he is rich. There’s a chance he may have even planned for this and is waiting for you. Do I have to use the word suicide?”

  “We will discuss it and get back to you with our decision,” Winn said.

  Yaw turned to his martial arts instructor to protest. To him, there was nothing to discuss.

  Before Yaw could say anything, Rodriguez spoke. “Look, Homeland’s gonna be here any minute. So you all gotta decide what you’re gonna do somewhere else. Shit, I’m in enough trouble for having you in here as it is already.” Rodriguez turned
to Winn.