by Tom Haase
Liz knew the charger she previously provided Bridget to use on Karim’s phone actually uploaded an undetectable software upgrade that would give them unprecedented access once the phone became active. It did not house a bug that could be discovered by various methods but a minuscule upgrade that would be undetectable by almost any system in existence.
Liz told Bridget if she were successful in connecting the phone there would be a new dynamic in play with this experimental software. Once the phone was turned on, the monitoring station could hear any conversation taking place within a few feet of the device. Even after a call ended the phone remained active and monitored by the FBI. If the phone powered off, then the signal would vanish. The location of the phone would also be available because of GPS in the imbedded software.
Bridget performed her task successfully and they now garnered verifiable proof of the viability of their new toy. Liz waited for a few minutes after the call ended. She heard voices near the phone’s location come over the speakers in the room. She checked to ensure the recording operated.
When the voices ceased she exclaimed, “Oh, shit.”
She grabbed for her phone to warn the safe house.
32
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Bridget could see from his demeanor that the conversation with Karim had left Matt in an excellent mood. After he placed his phone on the end table, he smiled.
“Things are going great. Our asset is performing just like I hoped,” Matt said. “I’m going downstairs to clean it up so we can get out of here. I miss my own bed. You want a coffee?”
Bridget nodded and he fixed a cup before heading downstairs. She remained on the couch in the living room. Her cell rang and after putting down her fresh brewed cup of coffee, she answered it.
“Bridget, Jonathan here. Just wanted to touch base. I’ve some new information I thought you might appreciate.”
“Really, what would that be?” she said in a suspicious tone.
“I had an associate look into Dmitri Alexandrovitch. He’s some character, a gangster would be a better name. It appears he runs a major crime syndicate in Russia.”
Bridget already knew that information from Scott and Gerti based on their experience in St. Petersburg. So what was Jonathan’s angle?
“Jonathan, I already know that. You must have more information or you wouldn’t have called. Come on, give.”
“Patience, my dear Bridget. You’re trying to pull my teeth without Novocain. I did acquire a picture of the lovely man. He has political influence in Russia and I also found out he recently travelled to Canada to a house he owns in British Columbia. I’ll text his photo to you when we finish.”
“Thanks. Sorry if I’m being pushy but I have a gun to my head on this one. Is there anything else you can add? It feels like you’re holding back on something.”
Matt’s phone rang. He must have forgotten to take it downstairs with him. She couldn’t hang up on Jonathan if he had any other bit of news that could help them. After four rings it went silent.
“Well, there might be, but I don’t have it at this time. I’m waiting for some more on what happened in Canada and who else was there,” Jonathan said.
Matt’s phone rang again and she ignored it. Perhaps Matt would hear its trill sound and come up from the basement.
“You’ll call as soon as you get the information? We have to move on this.”
Jonathan rang off. Immediately Bridget reached for Matt’s phone, but it quit ringing. She went over to the basement door and shouted for him to come up.
* * *
At FBI headquarters Liz became frantic, as the attack appeared imminent. Why in the hell didn’t Matt answer his phone? As soon as she monitored the conversation after Karim hung up, she dispatched a rescue team. That unit luckily would pass in the vicinity of the safe house on the way back from a training exercise. Its ETA at Matt’s location only five minutes.
She cursed herself for not getting Bridget’s cell number. The house didn’t have a landline. The only thing she could do was keep trying Matt’s cell.
* * *
Matt ran up the steps to the living room. He looked around and Bridget pointed to his phone. He walked over to pick it up and the phone started to ring. He gave Bridget a smile and answered it.
“Get out of the house!” roared Liz. “Get out now.”
Anyone in the room with him would have heard the loud shout coming from his phone. Matt didn’t even answer, just pulled his gun and headed for the front door. Bridget followed. He suddenly stopped.
“Let’s go out the back. Maybe they aren’t there yet,” he said.
Only a few seconds elapsed since the initial warning from Liz. Matt could still hear her talking on the phone in his left hand. He put it to his ear as he pushed Bridget toward the escape route to the rear.
“Help is on the way. Be there in less than two mikes,” Liz said the last words barely audible because of the deafening roar of automatic gunfire at close range. Bullets slashed through the front door. In a few seconds, the window in the rear door exploded with the bullets flying into the kitchen cabinets. Glass flew everywhere in the room. In a microsecond, bullets smashed into all of the windows, lamps, and mirrors. Bridget and Matt instantly dove for the floor in the living room and started to scurry toward the outside wall.
Matt remembered his army training. The only way to beat an ambush - attack it.
“Give me a gun,” Bridget demanded.
“I don’t have another gun,” Matt said. “Just stay down.”
“Goddamn you, Higgins. You can’t always protect me. Is there a gun anywhere here?”
“I only have one. This is supposed to be a safe place,” he said.
“Safe place, my ass,” she shouted.
“Okay, okay.”
“Can we make it to the basement and the safe room?”
“Not without getting cut to pieces,” Matt shouted.
He sensed the attackers were using a pincer movement to ensure the destruction of anyone in the house. As he sprinted to the middle of the room, he fired at the rear door. After he fired three more rounds, he crouched low and ran to the other side of the room.
He repeated the movement in the opposite direction. Bullets flew by him as he reached the temporary safety of the wall, but they couldn’t stay there. The attackers would soon breach one of the doors. That action would put them in untenable positions.
“Who are they?” screamed Bridget.
“No friggn’ idea. Be quiet, I’m trying to hear their movements.”
“Quit telling me what to do.” A new stream of bullets entered the house from both doors simultaneously. “Is this your way of showing me a good time?”
A second later, the front door burst open. A hooded man, with an AK-47 on full automatic, entered. Matt rolled on the floor, took aim, fired two rounds. He saw the bullets hit the target in the head and throat. Matt sprang up. Not waiting for the attacker to fall, he swiveled in the direction of the rear door. Another man burst in with his gun blazing. Matt had to get out of the direct line of fire of the automatic rifle.
Matt ran, diving over a couch. In his peripheral vision, he picked up that Bridget went for the AK-47. He had to protect her. Before he cleared the piece of furniture, he felt the bullet rip into him.
33
Arlington, Virginia
Safe House
Bridget sprang toward the weapon on the floor. While retrieving it, she simultaneously rotated toward the oncoming attacker. To her front, she noticed Matt jumping over a couch to get out of the attacker’s line of fire.
Damn. Matt got hit. She saw blood fly from his backside.
With the AK-47 on full automatic, she unleashed the remaining bullets in the magazine at her target, who appeared intent on killing Matt. More than three rounds penetrated the torso of the attacker. He dropped his weapon as he slowly collapsed to the floor.
Outside, she heard the sound of sirens signal
ing the rescue teams arrival, and then more gunshots exploded near the house. She heard someone shout “clear” and assumed someone on the FBI team shouted it. In a few seconds, a man in an FBI black jacket appeared in the front door. She dropped the weapon and raised her hands.
“Are you Bridget Donavan?” asked the FBI man.
“Yes. We need medical. Matt Higgins got hit and is behind that couch.” She started toward it. The man grabbed her arm and indicated with his hand to stay put.
“I’m the team leader. Don’t move,” he commanded.
Two more FBI agents entered and room by room cleared the house. They collected the attacker’s guns and then the team leader allowed her to approach Matt.
She peered over the couch, followed closely by the first FBI man. Blood christened the top of the couch and spread down to the floor where Matt lay on his stomach, unmoving.
“Matt,” she shouted while sprinting around the end of the couch to reach him. Blood oozed through his pants near his lower back.
“Get your medic in here and an ambulance,” she requested of the FBI man as she knelt down.
“Already done,” came the reply from the team leader.
She carefully rolled Matt over to see his face. He slowly opened his eyes. She noticed a large bump on his forehead.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
What a stupid thing to ask.
She watched as he squeezed his eyes a few times and moved to place his hand on his head. He touched the lump and a soft moan escaped from him.
“I took the round in my backside as I went over the couch,” he said. “It hurts like a son of a bitch. I think I knocked myself out when my head hit the wall. I don’t know which hurts more, my head or my rear.”
“Where are you hit exactly? I can put pressure on it.”
“In my ass, and no you aren’t going to put pressure on it,” Matt said. “I’m not going to let you grope my butt.”
“That’s something you might wish for, but I see the medic coming,” Bridget said as she moved back to allow him access. “Let’s get you taken care of, and then we’ll sort out what happened here later.”
“They all dead?” Matt asked.
“Yes. There’s one who remained outside and the rescue team took care of him. I don’t know anything else. We need to get you to a hospital and then find out from Liz what happened.”
“He’ll make it,” declared the medic, “but he needs to get to a hospital.”
“Still trying to show a girl a good time.” She gave him a full smile. She bent down and gently touched his cheek.
Four hours passed at the hospital before Bridget was allowed to see Matt again. A nurse led her down a hall to his room. From the doorway, Matt looked very pale, but he gave her a smile when he noticed her. She entered the room, but Liz Garcia already stood there.
“How did you get here?” Bridget blurted out.
“Remember, I have a badge that gets me in most places. I just got here a minute ago. We haven’t taken an opportunity to talk yet. I’ll tell you both what happened from my side and then you can fill me in on the events at the safe house.”
Matt and Bridget each nodded their agreement. Bridget took a seat in one of the two chairs in the room. The space smelled of cleaning material and exhibited the hospitality of an alligator’s open mouth. The single bed took up a large portion of the room.
“All went well during the call you had with Karim. We monitored and recorded it. When you hung up, the phone continued to transmit sounds in its immediate vicinity. Luckily, he didn’t turn it off right away. That’s when the proverbial shit hit the fan.”
“What happened?” Matt asked. “I was sure we got a great asset in Karim.”
“We were too until that moment. In short, he talked with a man we assume is the leader of the jihadist cell. That man thanked him for giving them the address of the safe house. He received praise for his initiative in deceiving you and getting you, the stupid FBI man, to believe he would turn on his fellow members.”
“I’m not going to say I told you so.” Bridget gave him a wink.
Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay, you were correct. I jumped to believe him. Your instinct proved right.”
“He assured Karim that an attack team prepared to kill you as they were speaking,” Liz said. “That you would be dead shortly. Unfortunately, the phone stopped transmitting when Karim finally powered it off. We did get a location, but when a team arrived there they found a country store in the Appalachian Mountains. The owner confirmed their presence and said he never saw them before in the area.”
“Does the GPS work when the phone is off?” Bridget asked.
“No,” Liz said. “The software you uploaded only transmits when the phone is on. Now, please tell me what happened at the safe house.”
“Safe house, my ass,” Bridget said.
Bridget spent five minutes bringing Liz up to speed on the events that almost cost them their lives.
“Since Matt and I are partners in this S.O.E. operation, I never again want to be without a weapon,” Bridget said looking at Liz.
“I’ll take care of that,” Liz said. She handed Bridget a weapon, a Glock.
“I want to go home today,” Matt said.
“That’s not going to happen. Our boss has given you a direct order. Stay here for three days to get your strength back and your mobility. They may — no, they will come after you again. You are in no condition to ward off another attack in your present state. We’ll have two agents guarding this area while you’re here,” Liz said.
“Great idea,” Bridget said. Looking to Matt she continued. “You’re here for three days unless you’re looking to get the other side of your ass shot off.”
34
Savannah, Georgia
SCAD Coffee Shop
Michael Alexander Alexandrovitch, known in America as Mike Alexandro, read the morning newspaper in the Savannah College of Art and Design coffee shop. The news didn’t interest him, but it was a way to kill time until his uncle called. The clock on the wall showed nine in the morning, so four in the afternoon in St. Petersburg.
He answered his cell on the first ring.
“Your new security man will arrive with the shipment in five days. Ensure the first half of the money is deposited by tomorrow.” The phone went dead.
It was a pleasure talking to you too, Uncle. You asshole.
Everything boded well for this delivery. He arranged for the pickup at the port of Savannah as usual, and the delivery location now the top item on his agenda. He planned on driving to Jacksonville, Florida, later in the day to pin down the exact spot the exchange would take place. First, he needed to contact Ashil to arrange for the initial payment. In his calculations, he needed to allow one extra day after pick up at the port. That would allow for time in customs at the port, followed by his personal inspection of the goods, and then the next morning a short drive to Florida.
“Ashil, this is Mike. I need the money tomorrow. Delivery will be in six days.”
“Usual place tomorrow morning. Where do we pick up our goods?” Ashil asked.
“Yes, the usual. The delivery will be near Jacksonville. I’ll let you know the night before with the details. What happened on your promise to take care of the federal problem?”
“We had a few glitches. We’re working on the problem. It’s more difficult than we expected. Can you get any help from your contact on finding his location?”
“No.” Mike only used his contact for operational concerns about the shipment. How he used the source was none of this meathead’s business. Those fuckers couldn’t even take care of one federal agent in multiple attempts. “I expected you to take care of that problem by now. Where are you?”
“On the road near Rocky Mount. Karim will deliver the money tomorrow at nine.” Ashil ended the conversation.
As he walked back to his apartment, Mike let his mind wander for a few minutes on his federal problem and the inability of the jihadists t
o solve eliminating the FBI agent. He offered them a great deal of money to take care of one man. That agent had disrupted his business, and he worried he could do so again in the future. Unlikely, he mused, with all the precautions he took, but still a possibility. He didn’t want another Roanoke. Perhaps the time approached to get rid of Ashil for his incompetence.
Turning his mind to the contact, he needed to ensure the man provided better information on the FBI operations in the future before making any payments. It might be worth hitting the contact up for information on Matt Higgins despite what he’d told Ashil.
Stepping inside his apartment, he looked at his icon above his mantle and thanked it with a small prayer that his luck was holding. Everything now in position for a successful arms delivery. After the disaster in Roanoke and the near loss of his icon during the FBI raid, he vowed not to take his precious religious item with him on dangerous missions. All arms transaction could potentially be very dangerous. The risk on a mission great and the luck, the power, the protection of the icon must remain somewhere in his possession. in his mind, his apartment met that condition. He concluded that’s all he needed to do to enjoy the continued benefits of its possession.
* * *
Another phone conversation occurred between the Vatican and Washington, D.C.
“What have you got for me, Alfred?” Jonathan asked Captain Grossman.
“You came up with the idea to track the other man who visited Dmitri in Canada. It took a bit of doing, but I think I have the answer. The man entered Canada under the name of Mike Alexandro. The RCMP got a clear photo of him. I’m forwarding it to you. Also, the U.S. air carrier Delta transported the man from Vancouver to a city in Georgia. Savannah to be exact.”
