by Drew Hill
The gun Frank had was a submachine gun. When he saw where one of the criminals was firing from, he sprayed that area with bullets. There was a cry of pain and then silence. “Two to go,” Frank muttered.
Suddenly, the two men got up and dashed to a door. Before the agents could get a good view, they opened it and got out. There was a gunshot and the sound of a motor starting. The agents dashed out the door and looked down the streets. Landon saw the car as it was turning a corner and memorized the license number. “OYX386,” he muttered to himself.
He noticed his car parked by the curb and jumped in. Frank and two of the agents also jumped in and they started off in pursuit. Landon looked at his rearview mirror. “Frank, call the police. Have them put out an APB on a gray SUV with the license number OYX386.”
Frank turned on the radio. “This is Frank Jones. I need all available police officers on this. Put out an APB on a gray SUV. License number OYX386. Over.”
“This is the Miami police station. We copy. Over,” squeaked the radio.
“Over.” Frank turned to Landon. “Where’d the car go?”
“It just turned into that alley up ahead,” said Landon.
As they turned into the alley, sirens were heard. They drove up ahead. As one of the agents exited the car, a submachine gun was fired from one of the upper windows at the end of another warehouse. The agent collapsed in a heap. Frank jumped out of the car. Landon followed him. The other agent jumped out the other side—and paid the price of instant death.
Landon fired at the window and ducked down as bullets scraped the roof of the vehicle. As Landon waited, Frank tapped him on the shoulder. “Landon, we’ve got to move. One of the bullets might hit the gas tank and blow it up.”
Landon fired once more at the window, and followed Frank as he crawled around a dumpster. As they crawled into the doorway of a warehouse, they heard an explosion behind. Landon looked back to see the car fly into the air, covered in flames.
“Landon, they’re in that warehouse. I think it’s connected to the one next to it. If we go around those dumpsters over there, we can get into it without being seen. Then, we can sneak in and apprehend these men.”
Landon nodded. They moved toward a window near the dumpsters and Landon carefully opened it. Then they dived behind the dumpster. They crawled around the rest of the dumpsters until they reached the warehouse they were looking for. They found an unlocked window and crawled in.
As Landon’s eyes adjusted to the dim room, he saw they were in a similar warehouse to the one they had just been in. They walked up to a door connected to the warehouse they wanted in. Frank put his ear up to the door. He listened for a moment, and then shook his head. Then he carefully opened it. They walked into the large room of the warehouse.
It was obviously abandoned. A thick layer of dust covered everything. Landon noticed two pairs of footprints leading up some stairs. He carefully stepped on the first stair. Then he walked up slowly with Frank following him.
As they reached the first floor, they noticed the footprints split up. One pair led into the room from where the gunman had fired at them. The other led into another room across the hall.
As Frank and Landon wondered what they should do, the sirens they had been hearing grew louder. The gunman opened fire on the police. The second man walked out of the room and started to say something. Frank hit him on the back of the neck with his gun.
Frank and Landon stepped up to the door where the gunman was firing sporadically. Frank counted to three and they jerked open the door and burst in.
The gunman spun, but Frank was too fast. He smacked him with the stock of his gun. The man collapsed in a heap, unconscious.
Landon stuck his badge out of the window. He said, “I’m with the FBI. We’ve captured both the men up here.” Cheers arose from all those around the building.
As the police arrived and placed the two men in custody, a car drove up. Oliver Haselry jumped out. “Frank, these men are here to escort you to headquarters. Landon, I want you to come with me.” As Landon jumped in, Oliver drove away.
“How did you get here? And where are we going?”
“They sent me down here to help you with your investigation. And we’re going back to the warehouse,” Oliver answered.
“Why?”
“Near the back of the secret room you discovered, they found the two FBI agents who had been kidnapped. One of them said the kidnappers’ leader escaped.”
“What? How did he escape?” asked Landon.
“Apparently, he hid out in the secret room until all the agents left, then just walked out.” Oliver leaned back. “One of the FBI agents somehow got the blindfold off and saw the man climb up the ladder after all the agents had left.”
Oliver and Landon arrived and walked into the warehouse office. Oliver questioned the agents thoroughly, but they could yield no further information. After the agents left, Oliver and Landon went to the police station where they questioned the two men who had been brought in. The two men refused to talk. Landon and Oliver headed back to Virginia.
Chapter 11
“Nice to see you again, Frank.” Daniel nodded to Frank as he entered the room.
“Yes, it’s nice to be back. By the way, where are the President and Vice President?”
“The President is at Camp David,” Joe answered. “By the way, how was your vacation, John?”
“It went well.”
“And back to the main subject,” Mark interjected. “Jackson’s in the Walter Reed AMC.”
“How did Jackson get in the hospital?” asked Frank.
“He was being interrogated by our agents when the lie detector exploded,” said Bill. “It was the new lie detector and had a flash drive port in the bottom to save data.”
“The port held a flash drive in it with a program to cheat the lie detector,” John offered.
“The flash drive also had Isaiah Harkens’ name on it,” said Trent.
“So where is Isaiah Harkens?” asked Frank.
“He is at the prison near here,” said Dan. “Would you like to schedule an interrogation?”
“No, not today. Maybe tomorrow.” Frank laid his briefcase on the table.
“So what happened to you?” asked Mark.
“It was pretty simple.” Frank grinned sheepishly. “As I walked home that night, a man jumped from behind a tree and whacked me over the head. When I woke up I was in that warehouse in Miami. They let me walk around the building every day under close guard. Following one of those walks, police swarmed the warehouse. But before they came, one of my captors got a call, and we hid in the secret room. I hoped one of the agents would step on the door and notice it wasn’t cement, but nobody did.
“My captors decided they would disguise me as a factory worker. But I knew the area would be kept under surveillance, so when my guard took me outside to get some air, I looked up a lot, hoping I would be recognized. It worked, and you know the rest of the story. They kept two other hostages down there with me. I didn’t know who they were until I got back and learned they were FBI agents. But you know, there was something interesting about the whole thing.”
“What?” asked John.
“The men didn’t seem Middle Eastern. They weren’t Muslims. They were all regular American thugs. I don’t think ISIS was behind my kidnapping.”
“You know, something just came back to me,” Bill stated, his brow furrowed. “Jordan said somebody killed all the men that were guarding him. There was that phone call the NSA intercepted and which Jordan overheard. Is it possible an American gang kidnapped Jordan from ISIS and killed their operatives?”
“I guess it’s possible,” said Daniel, “which means we’ve been searching for answers in the wrong part of the world. I think some of them are in Miami. That’s where both Jordan and Frank were taken.”
“You’re probably right,” Bill agreed, “but now we’ve put them on edge. Now they’ll either hide out, or make a key mistake.”
҉
“Nice to see you again, Mr. President. How’d your week go?” John asked.
“It went fine.” Timothy nodded.
“It’s also nice to have you back, Jackson. How are you feeling…” Mark began.
“So when are you announcing your plan to run for reelection?” Bill interrupted as Mark glared at him.
“Kevin Macalhaney, my Press Secretary, has scheduled a press conference at four this afternoon,” Timothy answered, oblivious to the interaction between Mark and Bill.
҉
The President walked into the room, and several cameras flashed as the reporters snapped pictures. “Alright.” Timothy stepped up to the podium. “I’m here to announce that I’m running for reelection. I’ll only answer a few questions. Uh, you on the front row.”
“What made you want to run for reelection?” asked the man on the front row.
“I’m glad to serve my country in whatever capacity I can. I want to serve the American people and uphold the freedoms for which the Founding Fathers fought. Now, the lady in the back,” Timothy gestured.
“Will you run with your previous running mate, or do you have a different candidate for Vice President?” asked the reporter.
“Yes, I’m running with Jackson Barkley again,” said Timothy. “And, you, sir, in the second row.”
“Are you aware Dominic Walton has announced his candidacy for president earlier this evening?” asked the reporter.
“Yes, I’m aware of his candidacy for president. If he runs for President of the United States of America, I can’t stop him. But I can run against him. If the voters elect him, I will convey upon him the responsibility of this office.” Timothy unscrewed the lid on his bottle of water. “And, you, Ma’am, in the front row.
“Do you have any promises for the voters yet?” the reporter queried.
“Only that I will continue what I’ve done in my first term and uphold the freedoms guaranteed to us in the Constitution and Bill of Rights. Thank you for coming. May God bless you all.” And with that, the President exited the room.
҉
At midnight Timothy was awakened by his phone ringing. It was Bill.
“Yes, Bill,” was the President’s tired greeting.
“Mr. President, I have some bad news.”
“About what?”
“France has been threatened by a nuclear weapon.”
“What! I’ll be right there.” The President hung up and rushed out the door.
҉
When Timothy arrived at the Situation Room, Joe, Frank, Bill, Mark, and Trent were already there.
“So what’s this about a nuclear threat?” asked Timothy.
“I saw an article earlier tonight, or this morning, I guess,” Bill started. “Anyway, a man threatened the President of France and said they would fire a nuclear missile at Paris unless they paid fifty million dollars into a Swiss bank account.”
“If it’s true, the criminals themselves must have leaked the story to put pressure on President del Monte. Well, we know somebody has a nuke,” said Timothy. “Give me the phone. I want to talk to the President of France.”
Timothy picked up the phone and dialed the number. It rang for several minutes before being answered.
“Hello,” answered the French Secretary of State.
“This is President Timothy Michaels of the United States. Can I speak to President del Monte?”
President del Monte answered quickly. From the voices Timothy heard in the background, he thought there must be an emergency meeting going on. He also thought he’d been placed on speakerphone. “Hello, Mr. President,” Pierre del Monte, the President of France, answered.
“Is it true you have been threatened with a nuclear weapon?” Timothy asked bluntly.
“Where would you get an idea like that?” Pierre demanded.
“I saw an online article that said as much.”
A loud argument erupted in the background. “Yes, we were. We are not quite sure whether it was an empty threat or not.”
“Well, did you follow the story of my son’s kidnapping?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Although we recovered my son, the people who kidnapped him did steal the missile. So, somebody has a nuke. But we don’t know whether the people with the missile are Islamic terrorists or other criminals. This doesn’t look like an Islamic terrorist group’s mode of operation, however.”
“Yes, thank you for your information. We are discussing it now.”
“How many days do you have before you have to give a reply?”
“I have to tell him my answer tomorrow night.”
“I think you should say you’ll pay the ransom and try to stall for time to investigate. If you don’t have an answer by then, well, I don’t know what you should do. The choice is up to you. Goodbye, sir.”
Chapter 12
Timothy grabbed the daily paper after he got up from the rest of his fitful night of sleep. On the front page was his interview with the press. Also, there was an article about Dominic Walton’s announcement to run for President. But what caught Timothy’s eye was the story about the nuclear threat to France.
“At 11:38 last night, a call was placed to the President of France. The man who called threatened to destroy Paris with a nuclear weapon unless he was paid fifty million American dollars in a Swiss bank account. France is undecided as to what to do.”
Timothy wasn’t surprised. Such a sensational story on the Internet would make it in the paper eventually if it had some semblance to truth.
Suddenly his phone rang. “Hello.”
“Mr. President, this is John Blackright. I’ve got bad news.”
“What is it, John?”
“A diagram of a F-22 Raptor has been stolen.”
“How do you know?” asked Timothy.
“We keep a certain number of plans in each filing cabinet. The copy in mine is missing, as well as some other important documents concerning it. I’m afraid there’s another spy in the White House.”
“Do you think this spy wants to sell them?”
“I think that’s the most likely possibility. A person with high enough security clearance to take the plans knows there are multiple copies as well as planes already built, so they know they haven’t crippled us. Most likely they’ll sell them to a nation with low air force capabilities or a revolutionary group,” said John.
“Who have you told about this?” Timothy asked.
“Nobody but you, Mr. President. I don’t know who the spy is, so that’s why I called you.”
“Good. Keep it that way. I have to go to another press conference about my campaign. See you later, John.”
“Goodbye, Mr. President.”
҉
“These are the plans,” said Gerald Hamilton, a nice looking young man who happened to be a black market weapons dealer. He sold guns, grenades, and small bombs to any and all customers, mostly terrorists. This was his biggest deal yet.
“And we can build our own F-22s from these?” asked Nazr Khalil, the director of Iranian Secret Intelligence.
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, Mr. Hamilton, here is your cash. And these plans better work.”
Gerald left the room, walked down the hall, and went down the stairs. He exited the small hotel and walked down the street until he arrived at a small sedan. He opened the door and got in. He reached up and grabbed a small encryption device out of the glove compartment that resembled a flash drive.
Gerald stuck the device into his cell phone and dialed a certain number.
“Hello,” answered the man on the other end.
“This is Gerald.”
“Yes, Gerald.”
“The deal went through. I’ve got the money. I’ll wire it to the account tomorrow.”
“Good job. Our friend will send you something else in a couple of days. Goodbye, Gerald.”
“Goodbye, sir.”
҉
“Hi, Jackson,” said Timothy. “Amos was just tel
ling me about the other candidates in the presidential election.”
Amos Scott, the President’s campaign manager, continued. “For our party, the only opponent is Jeremiah Montley. He isn’t very popular, so you shouldn’t have any trouble with him. The three candidates for the other party are Dominic Walton, George Walburn, and Donald Morrison. Donald ran in the last election and didn’t do well. I think the race will be close between George and Dominic. One of them will probably be the final candidate against whom you’ll run in the election.”
“What advertisements have you done?” asked Jackson.
“Only the one we already discussed. I have some others I’d like you both to look at,” said Amos.
҉
Gerald woke up as the phone rang. “Hello,” he said groggily.
“Listen, Gerald, it’s time to put the plan into effect. Our friend has told me the president advised Pierre del Monte to investigate and maybe not accept the ransom. So you need to get in position. You got it?” said the man on the other end of the phone.
“I got it. Where do I pick up the cargo?” asked Gerald.
“It’s waiting in a box at the bus station in Tehran. Now hurry, before they start searching. When you get there, check into the aforementioned hotel in Paris. I’ve got a room there for you under the name Martin Powers. There’s a fake passport and all your other fake ID in the box. Call me when you get there.” The man hung up on Gerald.
҉
Pierre answered the phone. “Hello, this is President Pierre del Monte speaking.”
“Have you decided to pay the ransom or not?” asked the man.
“Yes, I have. When do you want me to pay it?” asked Pierre.
“Tonight,” said the man.
“Tonight?” sputtered Pierre.
“Yes, tonight. I don’t want you trying to investigate. If you really planned to pay, you should have all the money ready.”
“I need more time. I can’t get the money that fast.”
“Alright. Pay it by nine tomorrow morning. That’s final!”
“I will,” Pierre started to say, but the man had already hung up.
