Luthecker (26 page)

Brown waited for response. “
And I’d also like to know how you got one of mine to take a gun to his own head.”
He thought.

“Let my friends go.” Alex finally responded, his voice soft but clear, knowing the request was expected on the other end, and also knowing what the answer was going to be, and the price for that answer.

“I can do that for you, Alex. I can let them go. That’s not a problem. I would be happy to. But I’m going to need something in return. I’m going to need your help. I’m going to need you to come in, peacefully, and work with us. Help us solve a few simple problems. Problems, that if solved, would make the world a better place. And once you help us solve those problems, you’d be free to join them. What do you say?”

Before Alex began his training with Master Winn, he did not understand and therefore hated it when people used courteous generalities as a way to threaten and lie. Now he understood it. Now he saw the inability to be direct as simply another coping mechanism for denial, another facet of an individual’s illusion-based reality. A facet that he knew he could easily weaponize to his advantage.

“Do I ever get to meet you?” He finally answered. He could sense the man smiling at the other end.

“Maybe some day. When we’re friends.”

Another courteous lie, Alex thought. He knew Brown thought neither would happen. Alex decided he would do whatever he had to in order to make some day a reality.

“Do we have a deal, Alex?”

“We have a deal.” Alex answered.

“Great. Understand, that if you renege on our deal, I can find your friends. Pretty fast, as you can see, now that I know who they are. There’s nowhere in the world they can hide, and there would be no second chance for them. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I look forward to working with you. Tell my friend holding the phone we’re done here.”

Alex slowly turned to Stern.

“We’re done here.”

His eyes moved rapidly as he examined Stern with ravenous intent, the man, the soldier, the mercenary, devouring every detail about him possible. He took note of the two tattoos on the man’s forearms, military tribal insignia, one from a current unit, and one from another whose call numbers had been disbanded over thirty years ago.
Too old to be the man’s father
, he thought.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Stern reacted to Alex’ gaze. “Knock it off,” he said as he recoiled back.

Alex smiled.

Stern turned away stepped clear of the Suburban, making sure to never lower the gun before slamming the door shut. He held the phone to his ear.

“This guy’s fucking weird, sir.”

“Do NOT engage with him. Is that clear?” Brown replied, the electronic voice loud enough to be heard through the desert air.

“Yes sir.”

“Good. Now let the others go.”

“What?” Stern replied, unsure if he heard right.

“They are not the target, and we can track them. How’s the black man doing?”

Stern turned toward Wolfe and nodded regarding Yaw.

Wolfe put the finishing touches on a bandage over the wound, taping into place.

“He’ll live.”

Stern nodded, spoke into the phone.

“He’s fine.”

“Good. We’ll track them from here. Cut them loose, and inform me when you’ve arrived in Los Angeles with Luthecker.” Brown concluded, and then the line went dead.

Alex saw Stern put his cell phone away, and turned to Chris and Camila.

“Remember your pledge as Couriers. Remember what Mawith said. Deliver the package, no matter what happens to me.”

Stern approached Wolfe at the back of the Suburban.

“What’s the move?” Wolfe asked.

“We cut’em loose.”

“What?”

“All of them but Luthecker.”

“Why?”

“I thought you never asked that question.” Stern responded, frustration in his voice.

“Fuck off.” Wolfe replied.

Stern pointed his 9mm at Yaw as Wolfe cut him loose with his K-bar knife.

“Run, motherfucker.”

Yaw hesitated, looking at his friends in the SUV.

“Now, motherfucker, or I’ll gun you down right here, I don’t care what the orders are.”

Yaw slowly turned, and trotted off into the night.

Wolfe ripped Camila, then Chris, free from the truck, causing them both to land face first on the hard packed sand of the desert floor. He used the K-bar knife to cut both their leg and hand restraints, while Stern kept his weapon trained on him.

Camila carefully rubbed her broken wrist, wincing, as she and Chris slowly got to their feet.

“Get the fuck out of here.” Stern told them. “If I ever see either of you, or your other friend, it’ll be to kill you. Now go.”

Camila looked at Stern and thought,
another time, another place
. Aldrich nudged her back to reality, and they disappeared into the night, in the same direction as their colleague.

Stern and Wolfe both looked at Alex, sitting alone in the van.

“Now what?” Wolfe asked.

“We take him back to Los Angeles.”

• • •

Brown put his cell phone in his pocket, smiled, kicking his feet up on Tomas Stephen’s desk. He finally had Luthecker in custody. He couldn’t wait to see what this kid was capable of in a controlled environment.

“Why’d you let the others go?” Stephens asked, standing across from Brown, sheepish, as if he were an unwelcome guest in his own office.

“Leverage. I want Luthecker’s cooperation. And even if I don’t get it fully, I don’t want to waste time questioning Luthecker about the extent of his underground community when we can simply find out those answers by tracking them.”

“When will he arrive?”

“A couple of hours. He’s going to get processed, some L.A.P.D. bullshit I’d rather not muscle, and then I’m going to turn him over to your team. Make sure they’re ready.”

Brown smiled to himself in anticipation, as he got up from Stephens’ chair, and left the office.

• • •

Alex sat quietly in the back seat of the Piaggo Turboprop, ankles and wrists manacled together with prisoner chains, leather straps keeping him bound to his seat, as the plane cruised at thirty-five thousand feet, headed back to Los Angeles.

He stared at the back of agent Stern’s head, waiting for the opening he knew would come.

Stern and Wolfe sat two seats in front of him. Wolfe read a magazine while Stern fidgeted, anxiously wrapping his fingers on his lap. He stole a glance back at Luthecker. The young man smiled at him, a look of serenity on his face. Stern scowled in return, before turning back and facing forward in his seat.

Brown had told him in no uncertain words that he was to have absolutely no interaction with Luthecker, but it was proving more difficult than he thought. He wanted to ask this guy questions. He could see why Luthecker was spooky, in a crazy cultish kind of way, but he still didn’t see the threat. He really wanted to find out what exactly he had done to make Brown want him so bad. He looked back at Luthecker again.

Luthecker caught the second look and threw back a question.

“Do you think your Grandfather would be proud?”

“What?” Stern replied, caught off guard.

“Of you becoming a mercenary.”

“Jesus, you were told to fucking ignore him.” Wolfe cut in, never taking his eyes from his magazine.

“What the fuck you know about my Grandfather?”

Wolfe took his eyes from his magazine, exasperated.

“I know that he was a Vietnam Vet.” Alex answered. “I know that he was a POW, and that both your father and family thought he was a hero, one of the few who didn’t come back with serious mental problems, and that he died when you were only eleven, but he left a strong impression on you, stronger than your father even, about what was important in the world, about what a hero truly was, and that’s what you decided you wanted to be, a hero, just like him, and that’s why you became a soldier. You shot some peasant boy in Iraq, and that didn’t feel too heroic, and you spent many sleepless nights wondering how your Grandfather dealt with it, thinking this is not what heroes do. And you wish he was still around so you could ask his advice one more time. So do you think he would be proud?”

Stern was out of his seat.

“You son of a bitch -- “

“Sit down.” Wolfe cut in, grabbing his partner by the arm and yanking him back in his chair.

“Let me go.” Stern replied, ripping his arm free from Wolfe’s grip. “How the fuck’s he know about my Grandfather?”

“Look at your fucking tattoos. That’s how he knows. You were told not to talk to him, so don’t fucking talk to him. We’ll be on the ground in less than thirty. Now sit down and shut up.”

Stern begrudgingly did as he was told. He flexed his hands in and out of fists, enraged, completely caught off guard, and wanting nothing more than to march on back to Luthecker’s seat and find out just exactly how he knew about his family.

Alex resisted the urge to smile. He had planted the seed. He could see how the younger agent two seats in front of him fought off the urge to assert control of the situation. In the end, the urge would win out. He had the man.

• • •

Nikki snapped awake as her phone rang. In a deep sleep, it took her a second to orient herself before checked the caller ID. It was Miller. It was also 5:45am. She pushed away the sleep stupor and gathered her thoughts before putting the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” She answered, concentrating hard to make sure her voice was clear of sleep.

“Hi Nikki, sorry to wake you at this hour. But he’s on his way to Los Angeles.” Miller replied.

“Really?” Nikki replied as she sat up, suddenly wide-awake.

“Yes. I expect him at the precinct in about thirty minutes. He’s going to be processed and out, in probably less than an hour. From there I have no idea where he goes. There’s been a bit of confusion at the department regarding his case. L.A.P.D is completely stepping back for some reason, and we are being told by Homeland Security that we are to release him to a private party, no questions asked. That’s total fucking bullshit. This kid’s still got rights, at least on my watch. I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. I want to know why now too. Do you really think you can get some answers? With your algorithm stuff?”

“Absolutely.” She answered, without hesitation.

“Okay. For some reason I believe you. I’m going to get you your five minutes. I’m still the investigating officer in charge of the club incident, and the subsequent DUI fatality that involved your brother. I’m going to use the chaos here to my advantage. I’m going to tell them that I need you to identify him in order to close out that case, and I’m going to do it last minute. I’ll put up a bit of a stink if I have to, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. They don’t want any public friction with the P.D., so my guess is the low level bounty-hunters that are handling Luthecker will let it pass. But they won’t put up with any serious delays. He’s gone in less than an hour, and I might get you three minutes with the guy. I’m really putting my ass on the line here Nikki, so you’re going to have to be in and out of there, no problems.”

“Understood.” She answered. Her stomach suddenly had butterflies.

“Detective Miller.”

“Philip.”

“Philip; thank you.”

“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my fifteen years on the force. And this might be the strangest. Be at the station house in twenty minutes.”

CONTACT

“N
icole Ellis to see Officer Philip Miller.” Nikki told the desk Sergeant.

The desk Sergeant gave her a brief glance, one that was a microsecond longer than appropriate, unable to stop himself, before reaching for an office phone.

Nikki had taken the time to put on a quick round of make up, picked nice jeans, shoes, a dress shirt, and had pulled her hair neatly back into a pony tail. She wanted to look casual but neat, clean, with noticeable but restrained sex appeal.

“He’s on his way down.” The desk Sergeant finally answered.

Miller had told her that she would be asked to identify Luthecker from an observation room. He told her to “think it was him”, but “not to be sure”. From there, he would have Luthecker moved to a separate room for final paperwork, and before he gave the OK for his release into private custody, he would bring her in to the observation room to see him, if he could, to confirm his ID. Miller made it clear that there were no guarantees. She was nervous. She thought back to that night in the club, Luthecker’s words of warning, the look in his eyes. She realized that even though she had played it out countless times in her head, the last conversation she had had with her brother had thrown her, and now that the moment had arrived, she had no idea what she was going to say.

• • •

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let it go.” Wolfe told Stern, as he put salt on his scrambled eggs. The two agents had delivered Luthecker to the LAPD, where, after a paperwork snafu regarding a car accident was worked out, they would bring him to Brown, at the Coalition Properties Building less than five blocks away. After they had locked him safely in a holding cell at the precinct, they had both realized how hungry they were after the previous night’s raid, and decided to grab some breakfast while the LAPD did their thing.

“I can’t let it go.” Stern replied.

“That’s because you’re young and you’re stupid.”

“You mean I haven’t had my balls clipped. I want to know: Is this guy a foreign intel agent? Did he betray the government by releasing classified information? What exactly did he fucking do? And how am I involved? He’s obviously seen my file. Why is he after me?

Wolfe pointed a fork at Stern.

“Don’t think like that. He’s not after you. He’s in a cell.”

“I’m asking Brown what the deal with this guy is.”

“Not smart. Just do your job.”

“He knew about my fucking Grandfather. He knew about
me
.”

• • •

“Is that him?” Miller asked Nikki.