Mastermind- Rise of the Trojan Horse

by Tom Wheeler

  “Did they identify the shooter?”

  “Some American. I think his name is Mason something,” she said.

  “Stay in your room.”

  “Like I have a choice? They have this place in lockdown,” Émilie said, smiling, since that was the perfect alibi.

  “I will be in touch,” he said, disconnecting. Émilie raised her fist in success.

  “He is clueless, or else he is the best actor on the planet,” she said, turning off her phone and removing the chip that could identify her location.

  “That means Eva Cruise is here, right?” I asked.

  “Well, someone is here; I don’t know who, but one of the twins.”

  “We need to do this now,” I said as Émilie and Capucine eyed me nervously. “What? If Roman didn’t know, he does now. Our window of opportunity is now, right now,” I said, and Capucine nodded.

  “You’re right, but how are we going to pull this off?” asked Émilie.

  “Capucine and I will rent a boat to shore. Here’s a burner phone,” I said, handing Émilie a phone that I’d grabbed out of my pocket. “The number to the phone I’m carrying is already in yours. I’ll call you as soon as we’ve got her. We’ll meet you at the yacht club.”

  “It’s a hundred miles to the yacht club, Mason,” Émilie said. “The only way you are getting there anytime soon is if I fly you. Then you have the issue of finding Eva, shooting her with the little gun of yours, then getting her body to me in daylight without being arrested. By the way, good of me to have you re-charge that machine killer, huh?” she asked pausing as Capucine and I starred at her.

  “You know if anyone sees you, they will turn you in,” Émilie continued.

  I inhaled deeply, knowing she was right.

  “We can’t just fly in there for a second time, can we?” I asked. “This helicopter is a monster. Everyone will see it.”

  “But right now time is on our side. It’s likely few have heard about the incident,” said Capucine.

  “Except they will notice someone carrying a dead body,” Émilie said, pausing. “Or disabled; whatever you call a sizzling android.”

  “Capucine, you’re the trained spy,” I said as Émilie looked at me oddly.

  “You are a spy?” she asked.

  “How’d you find me in Paris?” asked Capucine, returning Émilie’s gaze without answering her question.

  “You really want to do that now?” Émilie asked.

  “Just trying to understand whose hands I am putting my life into, again,” said Capucine.

  “The short version is I found a document about the training you all attended at CEDRA. I discovered there was an android named Cedra, and I wanted to thank Mason for saving my life,” she said, looking at me. “You can believe it or not, but my old boss was Ahmadi.”

  “You know about Cedra?” Capucine asked in a surprised tone. “And you work for Roman?”

  “Yes . . . and yes.”

  “Oh my God,” said Capucine.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “I stole Cedra on the orders of Carlos. That means—”

  I cut her off. “The Russians have Cedra,” I said. “I need to call General Crane.”

  “You can’t, Mason!” said Capucine. “If the Russians are involved this deeply, you can’t trust anyone right now. Back to our plan. I think you’re right. We need to prove Eva Cruise is an android.”

  “Or be put in a mental ward for trying,” said Émilie, smiling wryly.

  “Where can you land?” I asked.

  “There is a field just to the east of the port, down near the cruise ships. I think I can sneak in and out as if we are some bigwig or military rig. But if not, you need to know I will leave you. And if I leave you, you are on your own, understood?” Émilie said with intensity.

  “That is the understatement of the century. What about a car?” I asked, looking at Capucine. “Can you steal one?” She took a deep breath.

  “Yes. Bring something hard,” she answered. “We don’t need to get hurt breaking the window.”

  “And don’t forget your android sizzler,” said Émilie, smiling.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your gun!”

  “Let’s go,” I said. We all jumped back into the Euro.

  117

  Kidnapping Eva

  Twenty minutes passed as we discussed minor details of our attempt to take out Eva Cruise.

  “You ready?” asked Émilie into the headset.

  Capucine and I nodded.

  “Do you have to tell anyone we’re landing?” I asked.

  “No, but my radio is on, in case they try to contact me. I’ll stall if I have to, tell them I’m having engine trouble. But don’t stop for anything, and remember, steal a car that is invisible, not one parked in the port area, where they are watching. Hope you both are in shape.”

  Capucine rolled her eyes as I smiled, my eyes finding a huge sign that read “Nord Sail Base—Kalev Yacht Club.” Several cruise ships sitting in port made it clear we were there. It was not active at all. I thanked the Almighty One as my heart started pounding again.

  “You’ve got your gun, right?” Émilie said, double-checking.

  “Yes,” Capucine said as the craft slowly landed with the smallest bump.

  “I’ll be praying for you,” Émilie yelled as Capucine and I opened the door and jumped out. “I will be back in 20 minutes. If you need more time, call me on the phone you gave me, otherwise I will see you then,” said Émilie, smiling her encouragement as we ran slightly bent over toward the parking lot; the giant bird whizzed back into the sky.

  “Where is she going?” I asked Capucine.

  “Who knows, but she can’t sit here, I suppose. Over there, Mason,” said Capucine as we approached a line of vehicles just off Nafta Street, across from a Circle K gas station.

  “That one,” she said, pointing at a silver Toyota Prius. Before I could respond, she had taken the pliers she carried from the helicopter and broken through the driver’s window, causing the alarm to sound. Immediately she opened the door and yanked the wires under the steering wheel, silencing the alarm. I glanced around. We were far enough away from people that the noise didn’t matter, not for such a short spurt.

  “Put your head down, Mason!” said Capucine, ducking. “Someone is looking out the window of that mobile office.” I ducked. A moment later, she popped her head up.

  “Clear,” she said, using the pliers to strip the wires and start the vehicle as if she had done this a hundred times.

  “How’d you get so good at this?” I asked as she unlocked my door.

  “Training.”

  “I’ll drive, you navigate,” I said. She moved to the passenger’s seat.

  “You know, if Émilie is playing us, we are finished,” said Capucine as she put the address into the car’s GPS.

  “I’d have been finished long ago if she hadn’t shown up, so I trust the Almighty One’s got us,” I said.

  “Hold on. Okay, GPS has our destination, the Jahu apartments,” she said as I headed out, both of us looking at the mobile office in hopes we weren’t about to get caught for stealing a car.

  “There, Mason, turn left on Kalasadama,” she said, and I swerved to make the turn.

  “That was quick,” I said.

  “Turn right onto Suur-Patarei, and the apartment building should be up on the left,” said Capucine.

  “I see it,” I said as I pulled in to the orange building’s parking area, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”

  “Don’t park so close, Mason. The EMP, we are in a hybrid car,” she said as I moved the car behind a concrete barrier. “Perfect,” she said.

  “I’ll let you knock on the door, Capucine. Once inside, I’ll take the shot,” I said as we jumped out of the car, headi
ng for the stairs to the second floor’s outdoor walkway. “This isn’t going to be easy, you know?” That got me a look.

  “We just have to make it back to our ride. We’ve got 13 minutes, Mason. We gotta move,” she said as we stood at the front door, looking 360 degrees, since we only had one shot.

  “What if someone else is inside?” I asked, my body shaking. “Or what if she isn’t there?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough. You’ve just got to trust me, Mason. If anyone starts shooting, get on the ground.” Capucine knocked on the door, my heart beating out of my chest as I held the gun, my hands visibly shaking.

  “Who is it?” came a voice from inside.

  “Is it her?” I asked in a whisper. Capucine made a strange face as if she couldn’t tell. The door cracked open . . .

  Capucine and I looked at each other, knowing, of all things, that was the strangest. Nobody was visible. Capucine pointed for us to get down on the walkway floor in prone position. She pushed the door open as bullets rained from what appeared to be a machine gun. I dropped the EMP gun as a bullet raced by my ear, missing me by a millimeter. I could see who it was—Eva Cruise. She was walking toward us with the same look as the Terminator.

  “Mason, shoot!” yelled Capucine from around the corner. Her eyes widened when she saw the EMP gun just inside the doorway. Eva kept her finger on the trigger as bullets flew everywhere. In one last gasp, I jumped for the EMP, did a 360 onto my knees, and fired as Eva convulsed to the floor while, simultaneously, all the lights went out in the apartment, although the daylight hid the impact.

  “Geez, Mason. What the hell happened? She almost ate our spaghetti!”

  “You mean our lunch.”

  “Quoi?”

  “Nothing. Dodging death for the umpteenth time, I dropped the gun to my side. What can I say?”

  “Right, sorry. Are you okay?” she asked, her right hand on my arm.

  “Yes. It’s her, Capucine! I knew it,” I said as Eva Cruise lay on the floor with the AK-47 still in hand.

  “Mason, you did it,” Capucine said, moving toward the body.

  “We did it,” I said. “Help me get her up.” Capucine grabbed her arm, helping me throw her over my shoulders.

  “Holy cow, this girl is heavy. Get that gun,” I grunted; Capucine grabbed the AK-47.

  We carefully made our way down the stairs as several people emerged from their apartments to see the carnage, many with their jaws sitting on the floor. Others jumped behind their doors as they saw the machine gun, and still others were running away. I saw another person with her phone pressed to her cheek as if reporting the shootings and describing us.

  “Abi!” screamed someone else who was watching us move Eva toward the car. “Abi! Keegi on tulistatud! Kutsu politsei!”

  “Hurry,” said Capucine.

  “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know Estonian but politsei is certain to mean the police.” I heard sirens.

  “Open the back door,” I said. Capucine complied, and I put Eva in the rear seat. I jumped in the front at the same time as Capucine, who took the wheel this time.

  “Go!” I said. Capucine sped down a side street and onto the highway, returning the same way we had come as police cars flew by us, sirens roaring. Within minutes we could see a large helicopter making its way to the port in the distance. We made it to the chopper, and transferred Eva Cruise within minutes.

  “Oh my God!” Émilie said as we pushed Eva into the chopper.

  “Go!” I shouted, and Émilie took off, heading back toward Helsinki. I removed Eva’s hair, revealing the brains of an android, then took a picture and texted it to General Crane as my first step. I pushed Eva into the corner seat of the helicopter as Émilie’s eyes widened.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said. “How on earth—”

  “I know,” I interrupted. “I know.”

  118

  General Crane

  “Mason, it’s about time. What the hell did you do over there? They’re ready to institutionalize you or shoot you, whichever is easier,” he said. “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Did you get the photo?” I asked.

  “What is that sound? Oh my God! Who is that?” he asked, obviously receiving the picture I had just sent.

  “Eva Cruise. Ms. Martinez’s publicist.”

  “So you were right,” he said. “Who was the other person?”

  “Evidently her twin. Eva may have been modeled after an Ayesha Bonin, who is a real person,” I said. “Listen, I’m in a bit of a pickle. If I show anyone who Eva Cruise really is, everyone will know androids are real. You need to tell me what to do and give me a way out of this mess.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Headed toward Helsinki from Estonia. We’re over the Gulf of Finland,” I said.

  “In what?”

  “Please don’t make me say any more, just tell me where I can go to get safely home. I also need Capucine Foushé to be in protective services.”

  “For what?” Crane queried.

  “I’ll send you two pictures in a minute. I think it will be obvious,” I said. “There is one person in the second picture we don’t recognize.”

  “I need to know what kind of aircraft you’re in, Mason,” demanded Crane.

  “What kind of aircraft is this, Rihanna?”

  “Don’t tell him,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t need anyone shooting us down with a real android after just getting out of Helsinki.”

  “Crane’s a good guy.”

  “So was Jonah Soul,” she said, and I gave her a look. “Airbus Eurocopter X3,” she told me.

  “Airbus Eurocopter X3,” I repeated.

  “I’ll contact Finland’s president and the embassy. You need to get to the embassy.”

  “What about Eva Cruise?”

  “Right. Cancel that; can you make it to Germany?” Crane asked.

  “Where, exactly?”

  “A military base in Grafenwohr,” he said. I repeated that to Émilie, and she shook her head.

  “Hold on, General,” I said. “What’s wrong?” I asked Émilie.

  “Mason, I will be shot. Unless someone is giving me asylum, I am not going anywhere but dropping you off and disappearing,” she said.

  “General, I have another issue. But you have to promise me you won’t use the information I am about to give you to harm someone.”

  “No promises, Mason.”

  “Then we have a big problem,” I said. “Which is we are going to be dropped off at the nearest airport without making it to Germany,” I said for effect, not that I believed it.

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  “The reason we were able to pull this off is because of Émilie . . . ,” I said, looking at her. “Émilie du Châtelet,” she said. I repeated it to Crane.

  “So what?”

  “She is also Rihanna . . . ,” I said, looking at her again. “Rihanna Zeva,” she said, and I repeated.

  “The name rings a bell, but . . .”

  “She was delivering me to Hassan bin Laden in Afghanistan when I was rescued by Ahmez. She worked for Ahmadi,” I said.

  “She’ll be prosecuted, Mason. We don’t let terrorists go free.”

  “Then we won’t be going to Germany, and the world is going to know there are androids in play acting as spies,” I said. Émilie gave me a thumbs-up.

  “What does she want?”

  “Asylum and a letter from the president saying she will not be charged with any past actions under any circumstances,” I said. “And she is not a terrorist.”

  “You know that how?”

  “I’m a prophet,” I said. “And she just saved me and Capucine. Without her, I’d likely be locked up.”

  “You know
we can’t do that, Mason,” he said.

  “Actually, sir, I am well aware that you can do that. I have to side with Rihanna, excuse me, Émilie on this one. Sir, you must.”

  “Tell her I’ll talk to the president. For now, head for Germany.”

  “We will also need a place to refuel on our way.”

  “Where and when?” he asked.

  “Where and when for fuel, Émilie?” I asked.

  “Copenhagen at 1300 hours,” she said, and I relayed that to Crane.

  “Very well. Let me call you back,” he said. Émilie smiled.

  119

  Saved?

  “I am sending you a letter from the president for Émilie du Châtelet and all aliases. She will not be prosecuted. Where is the photo, Mason?”

  “Sorry, on the way,” I said, sending it off.

  “The president asked me to convey his thanks to you.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, giving Émilie the thumbs-up.

  “Something else, Mason,” said the general.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I spoke with Alexandra Martinez. She wanted me to convey her gratitude. She had written you off as an insane lunatic until I sent her that picture. She still wants proof, but there is no word of Eva Cruise, and none of her phones are working, so Martinez knows you saved this nation from serious intelligence breaches. Anyway, I thought you would want to know.”

  “Thank you, sir. I feel better knowing fewer people believe I’m an insane lunatic,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Mason, where’d you get this photograph?” Crane asked.

  “Émilie had it; she worked for Roman Gagranovich—that is, Jonah Soul. She bugged his phone after becoming suspicious.”

  “I hacked his phone,” corrected Émilie.

  “Well, please let Capucine know her government is grateful for her part in the discovery of the spy ring. She will likely be receiving the Légion d’honneur award from Macron when she returns to France.”

  “I will let her know,” I said, and disconnected. My heart sang, despite all the tragedies.

  “So, Émilie,” I said as the chopper flew over the green water of the Baltic Sea en route to Copenhagen, “you’ve been cleared for a new life. And Capucine, you’re likely getting the Légion d’honneur,” I said. They both got teary-eyed.