Luthecker (41 page)

He resumed his climb.

• • •

Nikki looked at the screen that showed the building alarm grid. There were literally over a hundred thousand alarms in the building, ranging from fire warnings, water sprinklers, lighting systems, to door security. The security system itself was a victim of its own complexity, as it was nearly impossible for there not to be at least one faulty unit that the software management system had to account for and correct, and it was this flaw that Phoebe took advantage of. It had not been difficult for Nikki to modify her modeling software for hacking duties, and now she focused on the elevator service door on the seventy-second floor, switching it off, while at the same time temporarily bypassing the detection circuit. She checked her watch: 6:46pm. Stern and Castillo should be at that door soon. She looked to her far right monitor, pulled up the security camera grid located on the seventy-second floor. She locked onto the freestanding camera and moved its focus from the elevator doors to the service access door.

Phoebe chirped with an alert. The building system had picked up on the move, and was investigating. Nikki knew she had minutes at best before Phoebe would be forced to flee the system or risk the total shut down of a detected systems breach.

She watched the security video show the service door slowly open, and Stern carefully step through and into the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately tried him on her cell phone. She watched Stern hit his blue tooth.

“You made it.” She said. “Where’s Castillo?”

“He didn’t.”

“What? How- “

“We don’t have time.”

Stern did a visual assessment of the hallway. Several metal doors, each with what looked like food delivery slots in the center.

Stern recognized the design from prisons he had seen in Kabul, Afghanistan.

This floor looks to be all holding cells. Can you tell me which one’s Luthecker’s?”

“He’s in the northeast corner. I’m not exactly sure which cell. Look, I have to bug out. The building’s beginning to suspect there’s a burglar in the house. I’m afraid you’re on your own. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You got me in. I can take it from here.”

He hit his blue tooth to end the call, and stepped out of camera view.

Nikki sat there, unsure what to do next. She looked at the 9mm Stern had left her for protection. Should she wait here, or should she go down to the building to try and help? She already knew the answer. One thing she was sure of-- She had to pull Phoebe back, and now. Otherwise, building security would be alerted, and Stern would be a dead man. She looked at the center screen, of Alex Luthecker and Richard Brown.

An idea suddenly dawned on her.

• • •

Stern felt lucky he had stepped from the service corridor into an empty hallway, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last. He hustled passed the elevators and turned left and that’s when his luck ran out. He literally ran into a security guard, easily six and a half feet tall, easily three hundred pounds. Stern bounced off him and landed on his back.

The guard immediately went for his weapon, and Stern hit him in the ankle with all five million volts from the Streetwise stun gun before the guards’ hand reached his holster.

The guard went rigid and dropped to one knee, before tumbling to the floor, unconscious. Stern zip-cuffed the man’s hands and feet. He stayed low over the body, and checked the hallway for others.

“Please don’t hurt me.”

Stern slowly rose to his feet, as he looked at the source of the plea-- A small, frail looking man standing at the end of the hallway. Wearing glasses with thick black frames, he looked like the proverbial deer-in-the-headlights. His hands were up and shaking.

“I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt me.” Isabella said to Stern.

“Alex Luthecker. Do you know him?” Stern demanded.

Isabella remained frozen.

“I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Where is he?”

Isabella stayed silent.

“Where is he?” Stern yelled.

Isabella jumped at the intensity of Stern’s voice.

“I, I think he’s in the cell at the end of the hall.” He stammered in response.

“Take me.”

• • •

“No guns, my friend.” Winn told Rooker.

Rooker looked incredulous as he stood with his men in the apartment building hallway.

“What are you going to fight with, sticks and rocks?” Rooker replied.

“Just the former.” Winn answered back. “We can’t be drawn into their strength. We can’t out shoot them. If we start trading weapons fire, we lose every advantage we have.”

“And what advantage is that?”

“The advantage of being the oppressed.”

Rooker looked at Winn like the old man had gone crazy.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t use your firepower.” Yaw chimed in, suddenly standing behind Winn.

• • •

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all.” Coalition Properties mercenary and former Marine Sergeant Bill Harris said to his fellow squad leader, Mark Labaton, as they carefully examined the building entryways and windows, along with a half a dozen vehicles parked along both sides of the street. Both men, hardened war vets turned private, had stepped from their Hum Vees onto an eerily quiet 108
^th
street in Watts, and had their M-16 rifles at the ready.

Harris watched the Black Hawk roar overhead before he turned to Labaton.

“They could be anywhere.” He commented.

“Recon says they haven’t moved from this block. That means we go door to door.” Labaton replied.

“This isn’t Iraq.”

“You mean this isn’t a stupid clusterfuck waiting to happen? You know we don’t belong here. This is a police issue.”

“Orders are orders.” Harris replied. He slung his rifle back over his shoulder as a personnel carrier pulled into the street. A dozen armed men dressed in Coalition Black fatigues scrambled out from the back of the vehicle and stood in formation, waiting for their orders.

“We’re sitting ducks out here.” Labaton commented.

“They aren’t stupid. We only want the four, and none of the others are going to risk their lives for them by taking pot shots at us. Let’s break off into threes, go door to door.”

• • •

Rooker and Winn examined the street below from the balcony window. They watched as several armed men poured out of the back of a truck, like so many ants.

Yaw stood with Chris and Camila, sticks strapped to their backs.

“Head down to the first floor.” Winn told them.

Yaw nodded, and the three headed out of the apartment.

“They’ve blocked off both ends of the street. We have eight buildings, four on each side of the street, between the blockades. There are six cars parked on the street, and three of them are mine. Then we got the two Hum-Vees and their transport. I got men in each building. That’s what we got. What’s the play?” Rooker asked.

“They’re headed to the buildings in groups of three.” Winn replied, as he nodded to the activity on the street below. “Let my Couriers handle them. They are in each building as well.”

“Then what do you need my people for?”

“Are they good shots?”

• • •

“Bird in the sky reports no movement on the rooftops.” Labaton told Harris. He listened to his blue tooth for more. “Reports are coming in, everyone is being cooperative with the searches. But no one’s saying a word.”

“Of course not. But they’re in here somewhere. And we’ll find them.” Harris replied.

He eyed the apartment building that held Winn, Rooker, and the others.

“You and I get this one.”

The men pulled their M-16’s from their shoulders, and made for the building entrance.

• • •

Winn turned to Rooker.

“Now.” He told him.

“You’re gonna owe me for the rides.” Rooker replied, before getting on his cell phone.

“We’re green.” Is all he said, before flipping his phone shut and going back to the window.

There was the quick crackling sound of gunshots before the six cars parked on the street exploded near-simultaneously, flames from ignited gas tanks blasting high in the air. The intense heat and thick black smoke nearly engulfed the Black Hawk, and the pilot pulled up hard on the stick and circled back around.

Harris whipped his head back in reaction to the cars exploding in the street. What happened next he felt before he saw. His trigger hand was suddenly shattered, causing him to drop his weapon. In a blur of aluminum sticks, his jaw and right knee were also broken to pieces, his attacker gone before his M-16 hit the floor.

“Pull back, pull back.” Was the last thing he heard before he felt Labaton drag him out of the building.

• • •

“Why didn’t we shoot out their rides?” Rooker asked, shaking his head as he watched the thick black smoke of burning vehicles fill the air.

“Because it will look like they attacked us, not the other way around, and they know it. We made a lot of noise, and news helicopters are already being scrambled. It will take them less than ten minutes to get here.”

Rooker smiled.

“You crazy old Nip, I like the way you think. What next?”

“We wait.”

“For what?”

“A little bit of luck.”

“Try again?”

“If something doesn’t happen beforehand to stop them, they have ten minutes to decide whether or not they are going to gun down an entire block of civilians.”

• • •

Labaton dragged the near unconscious Harris for cover behind the lead Hum Vee. His own right hand had been shattered before he retreated, hit by a stick, and he had lost his weapon. The insurgent attackers had timed their strike perfectly with the explosions, and had moved with incredible speed.

He looked around and saw cars on fire, billowing thick black smoke, while soldiers pulled injured colleagues back from the buildings and behind cover.

It reminded him of the streets of Iraq.

“You alright?” He asked Harris.

Harris’ jaw was swollen and he was visibly in pain. He gave a weak thumbs up with his left hand.

Harris tugged on Labaton’s arm. Labaton knew right away what he was asking.

“No casualties. We got beat back by guys with fucking sticks.”

He looked back over the carnage.

“They blew up their own. Left our vehicles alone. Smart. News ‘Copters are gonna be on this in no time. It’s gonna look like we did it.”

Laboton tapped his blue tooth, looked at Harris.

“Bird in the sky wants to know—Do we open fire before the press gets here?”

Through the pain of his broken jaw, Harris slowly nodded yes.

“Jesus. Are you sure? We do this, it changes everything. And there will be no going back. We’ll be just like all the other places.” Labaton replied.

Harris nodded again, this time more assertive.

Labaton shook his head in disbelief before radioing the Black Hawk.

“Bird in the Sky you are green. Take out the insurgents in the Northeast building structure.” Labaton ordered.

He swallowed hard as he watched the Black Hawk helicopter circle back towards its target.

• • •

“Tell me what I want to know, right now, or I swear to God, I’m going to beat you until you’re dead.” Brown said with barely contained anger, as he got to his feet, electric baton crackling in his hand.

Alex stayed seated. He braced himself for the reaction to what he would say next.

“You’re going to lose.”

“Fuck you.” Brown said, before cracking Alex across the leg with the baton.

Alex’ entire body constricted with pain, unlike anything he had ever felt before. His leg where the baton had hit felt like it had been seared with a hot poker. His stomach contracted hard from the flow of current, and he suppressed the urge to vomit. His head felt like it had been hit with a hammer, and he became disoriented. He collapsed onto the floor.

He lay there for a moment before slowly lifting himself to his hands and knees, his arms and legs shaking. He crawled back onto the couch, and resumed his seat across from Brown.

He locked eyes with Brown, defiant. Brown loomed over him, stick reared back for another strike. Alex noted the sweat on Brown’s forehead. The rage in Brown’s eyes. Alex fought back his urge to panic, fought to clear his head. Fought to stay on point. He didn’t know Zemin, but he knew Brown’s fears, and would play on them, and look for an opening. He hoped that that would be enough. He knew it was his only chance for survival. His heart raced. He knew he had to let Brown speak first, if he was going to have any chance.

“I’m going to kill your friends, Alex. And make you watch. And then I’m going to kill you. If you don’t tell me what I need to know.” Brown said.

Alex tried to swallow, noticing that his mouth had gone very dry.

“Zemin has you backed in a corner, and he knows it.” Alex began, measuring his response very carefully. “Wars are not won with bullets; they are won with wealth. History has proven this time and time again. The backbone of the American system is Capitalism; its blood is oil. Its heart, the dollar. Capitalism begets consumption, and by its very definition everything is eventually consumed. You don’t need a pattern reader like me to calculate this. Just a third-grade education. We’ve already rotted from the inside out. Done half his work for him. All that’s left for him to win the war is to destroy the dollar and control the oil supply. And he’s going to do exactly that. That’s what you wanted to know, right? If he was actually going to do it? Well the one thing I got from seeing him, the look in his eye, is that he is.”

Brown’s face drained. If this were true, if Alex was to be believed, he would have to act fast. Get in front of the situation to maximize any advantage. He would put the U.S. on an immediate war footing, and it would be a war to end all wars.

Alex had Brown on his heels, at least for the moment. But he also knew that there was nothing left to discuss, and Brown no longer had reason to keep him or his friends alive. If he were going to take his shot, it would have to be now.