Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (15 page)

Damn it, give me a target!
 
All this cloak and dagger bullshit drives me nuts.

The door to the briefing room opened and Charlie walked in, followed by Jax.
 
Without a word, Charlie grabbed the remote off the table and changed channels.
 
Cooper opened his mouth to protest but Charlie pointed at the screen.
 
“You need to see this.”

“…disastrous, tragic attempt by Vice President Barron to start a civil war.
 
We will not allow the seeds of bitter hatred he planted to come to fruition—not now, not ever.
 
We as a nation need to focus everything on surviving this monstrous disease and expelling the North Korean invaders from our western states.
 
America is and always will be united.”

A reporter off-camera shouted something.
 
The President turned and pointed toward the camera.
 
“Can we get her a mic please?”

“Thank you, sir,” said a female voice after a few moments.
 

“Now, what were you asking?”

“I asked if cities under martial law would agree with your outlook that America is united, not divided.”

The President’s face darkened.
 
“Those cities are under lockdown because they embraced the deception offered by the former Vice President—”

“Can you comment on the reports that some towns are still supporting President Barron and refuse to comply with your—”

The President stared down the interrupting reporter.
 
“I have heard rumors.
 
Yes.
 
Vice President Barron caused a lot of trouble lately and we’re working very hard to ease the transition back to normalcy.”
 
He turned to face the cameras.
 
“I am granting blanket pardons to any towns or individuals who formerly sided with Vice President Barron to peacefully exchange power with their neighbors and step down from all posts of civic leadership.
 
No one shall be prosecuted for anything they did during—”

“You’re going to pardon people who’ve committed murder?” barked another voice from the opposite side of the room.

President Harris raised his hands as the reporters shouted over each other again.
 
“I will not let murderers off the hook.
 
This pardon is for local leaders or individuals who supported Vice President Barron through actions and carried out—”

“What about the cities where the U.N.—at Congressional invitation—remains in control?
 
Are they under siege now that you’re the President or will the foreign aid workers be allowed to continue their humanitarian missions?”

Harris’ face paled.
 
“Madam, I take great offense at what you’re implying.
 
I am not the leader of some
coup
.
 
Vice President Barron illegally took power.
 
I have received the full support of Congress—”

“With all due respect, Mr. President, so did Vice President Barron.”

The President frowned.
 
“This discussion is something we can have another day.
 
I’m here to talk about our response to the flu crisis and timetables for relief shipments.
 
Our healthcare system has been pushed to and well beyond critical surge capacity.
 
There are hundreds of thousands of people who have died in the past month.
 
There are so many dead in our major cities there aren't enough workers to bury them.
 
There's not enough healthy people left to tackle the job of removing corpses.”
 

The President took a breath and gripped the sides of the podium.
 
"Let's focus on what's important—how to help our fellow Americans through this—"

The crowd of reporters exploded, cameras flashed, questions flew like bullets toward the President.

“Jesus,” muttered Cooper, “they’re like a pack of wolves.”

“You should have been watching earlier.
 
Admiral Bennet walked off the stage.
 
I thought he would kill one of them with his bare hands,” replied Charlie.

Jax snorted.
 
“I woulda’ liked to seen that."

Cooper watched as the President tried to answer questions about the civil chaos flaring to life around the country.
 
It went on, minute after minute.
 

Cooper shook his head.
 
“Nothing is happening except there’re all wasting time.”
 
Cooper leaned over the table and stared at a map of the Swiss Alps.
 
“Turn that shit off.
 
I need to think.”

Charlie clicked the TV off.
 
“We almost had him.
 
He had to be there.”

Brenda's dead because of that man.

“I know,” muttered Jax.
 
“I think we were close.”
 

She's dead and I let him get away.
 
Cooper slammed a fist down on the table.
 
“How did that bastard slip out of there so quickly?
 
How come we didn't spot him?
 
We had drones, satellites, eyes on the ground…”

“Chartered flight, private jet, you name it—dude with money like he’s got?
 
He’s probably got contacts over half of Europe ready to cover his movements,” grumbled Jax.
 
He folded his arms and stood before the global threat map.
 
“This Council had their people all over the place…”

Cooper walked over to Jax.
 
“We had a chance to take the head off,” he said, pointing at the Austrian Alps.
 
"Now they know we're after them, they're hitting back.
 
You hear about the Senator that got whacked?"

"Yeah.
 
That's some bullshit right there.
 
Trying to show no one's safe."
 
Jax blew air between his teeth.
 
"Pussies."

"It'll get bloodier.
 
The Germans aren't taking prisoners," observed Charlie, looking at the briefing notes.
 
"You see these casualty figures?
 
Jesus.
 
Cologne is one big morgue."

"The virus is shifting," Cooper said, remembering Brenda's warning.
 
He closed his eyes and wished he could remember her face more clearly.
 
Every time he tried, the details seemed to get a little fuzzier.
 
So he tried not to think about her, which made him think about her anyway.
 
He clenched his jaw.
 
I'm going to kill Reginald, screw orders.

The room was silent for a moment.
 
At last, Charlie cleared his throat.
 
“Anyone seen 13?”

“She's not here—don't worry about her,” growled Admiral Bennet behind them.

Cooper turned to see the Admiral storm into the room and drop red briefing folders on the map table.
 
The three SEALs came to came to parade rest, hands behind their backs, and waited.

“Sink your teeth into that, boys," Bennett said, gesturing at the folders.
 
"Intel’s been pouring over that laptop you brought back.
 
They’ve come up with a short list of possible targets.”

Cooper picked up the folder.
 
“Finally.”

Bennet folded his arms.
 
“My bet's on Scotland, but the evidence points to Germany or Poland.”

"What evidence?" asked Cooper.

"Intel provided by 13.
 
The CIA confirmed with MI-6."

Charlie flipped open his folder.
 
“You let her leave?”

Bennet grimaced.
 
“Not exactly.”

"So where is she?" asked Cooper, eyes still on the target notes.

"I don't know," replied the Admiral.
 
His face darkened.
 
"We agreed it had to look realistic, but I had no idea she was this good."

"What had to look realistic?" asked Charlie.

"Her escape," Cooper said, looking up.
 
"You let her go back to Reginald."

Bennet nodded.
 
"Correct.
 
We ran the psych-evals.
 
She was telling us the truth.
 
The shrinks are convinced she's got a major axe to grind with our target.
 
We figured, why not turn her loose and see what happens?"

Cooper poured over the target data again.
 
He whistled.
 
"If this is only half-correct, letting her go was the least we could do.
 
This is a gold mine!"

"Then it's time for you to dig."
 

"Sure hope that super-vaccine works," Jax muttered, rubbing his shoulder.

C
HAPTER
15

London, England.

V
ASILY
STAGGERED
TO
THE
bathroom, trying hard not to cough—he didn't want to wake Zoya.
 
He doubted that was her real name, but he didn’t care.
 
She’d shown him a good time last night and introduced him to many new faces from the motherland.
 
She promised to make sure he found his way around London.
 
He smirked, looking back toward the bed.
 
Zoya had been a very willing tour guide.

He leaned against the doorway to the wash closet and smiled, though he felt like throwing up.
 
Vasily closed the door behind him and staggered to the sink.
 
He took a deep, ragged breath and felt something flutter in his chest—no, in his lungs.
 
His eyes flew open, and he looked up at the mirror.

My God, I look terrible!
 
That vaccine is worse than they said…

Zoya mumbled something about coming back to bed from the other side of the door.
 
That sounded lovely.
 
He wanted to rest—well, with her in the bed, he wanted to do other things—but he needed to get ready for his meeting.
 
Vasily glanced at his watch.
 
Instead of the cheap Timex he'd had for years, a glittering Rolex clone graced his wrist.
 
The memories flooded his hungover mind in a rush—faces, music, drinks, girls.
 
The watch had been a gift from one of his new friends.
 

Last night, at the club…what was his name? Aleksei?
 
Axelei!
 
Axe…that’s what he said to call him.
 
Vasily stared at the watch.
 
He hadn’t wanted to take it, but a few glances from the people at the table warned him not to refuse a present from Axe.

He’s probably Bratva!
 
Vasily hand his hands through his greasy hair.
 
God, what am I doing?
 
I don’t want to get mixed up with the mafia…

Vasily sighed, which set off an uncontrollable coughing spasm.
 
He spit up a thick, greenish mucus into the sink and gasped for breath.
 
That flutter in his chest gave him pause.
 
He pulled his left eyelid down and examined the white of his eye.
 
Is that yellow?
 
Maybe I will see a doctor after the meeting…

He gripped the edge of the porcelain sink and looked down at the floor.
 
For a second, he thought the room had spun.
 
I don't have time for this.
 
I must to get to my meeting.
 
He checked his new watch again.
 
A little early, but if I don’t get there now, I may not make it.

A soft knock on the bathroom door caused him to jerk upright.
 
He didn’t want Zoya to see him like this.
 
They'd joked last night that he was strong, like an ox.
 
He washed the mess in the sink down the drain and turned to face her.

Zoya had been stunning in her skimpy outfit at the bar—she looked even better naked.
 
Her flawless skin glowed in the soft light of the early morning sun.
 
She jiggled in just the right places as she padded across the cold floor.

“What’s wrong?"
 
She yawned and glanced at Vasily through barely open eyes.
 
"Hangover?”

Vasily tried to speak, coughed, and tried again.
 
“Nothing—the travel vaccine they gave me back in Moscow—it's not fun.”

A slow grin spread across her face.
 
How he loved her lips—so wide, so expressive, so encompassing.
 
She traced a single finger down his bare chest and tickled his stomach.
 
She turned and sashayed out of the bathroom in a slow, deliberate gait meant to be watched.
 
“Wait right here.
 
I have something for you.”