From the tower,
Albrecht saw a small red dot flashing against the side of the building with his free eye, and moved his weapon slightly to view the source. He instantly confirmed it was Kerr and readjusted his point of aim back to the rooftop gunman. The familiar high pitched buzz issued from his suppressor, followed by a minor report from the lower velocity round. Without waiting for visual confirmation, Albrecht immediately adjusted his point of aim from the first target to the barrels but the man wasn’t visible. Two tense seconds later, the mercenary’s head rose above the barrel and less than a second later, it became part of the wall behind him.
Kerr heard the impact of the
second shot and raced toward the barrels to confirm the kill as Walker sprinted to catch up. Albrecht quickly packed his rifle into its case, retrieved his spent cartridge cases, and hurried down the stairs to Walker’s car. As he drove toward the warehouse, Walker and Kerr were already entering the building. Despite Walker’s careful observations through the window, they maintained a cover formation as they made their way to the office door. Kerr held position outside the open door, his weapon pointing toward the center of the empty warehouse, as Walker quickly poked his head in and out of the office door, desperately searching for the little man. Holly was alone in the room but Walker wasn’t ready to be fooled again. Despite what his eyes told him, he wasn’t going to let his guard down this time.
He slowly approached Holly
, his eyes darting to every corner of the room. It didn’t make sense why the leader of the kidnappers would leave the scene and his captive unguarded. His mind raced frantically through the possibilities when he suddenly realized the source of the little man’s confidence. Holly’s restraints brought vivid memories flooding back into his head. He spoke aloud to Kerr, “He’s gone. You’d better come and look at this.”
Kerr reluctantly deserted his post to join Walker and he too
, knew instantly why Holly was unguarded. Over her shoulders, around her waist, and over her legs, was an intricately woven web of strapping and wires which led under the chair. They crouched to see the wires led to a mercury control switch attached to a detonator, which pierced a chunk of C4 plastic explosive, encased in a tamper proof acrylic box. It wasn’t the most sophisticated device they had ever seen but it was certainly enough to give pause, even to a bomb disposal expert.
The men looked at each other and Kerr said, “So much for a quick exit.”
Holly tried to speak through the duct tape over her mouth and Walker suddenly remembered to remove her hood. She was obviously panicked but a wave of relief came over her face as she saw their familiar faces. Walker gently removed the tape from her mouth and she put on a brave face as he explained the predicament. It had been almost two hours since her initial abduction and she’d had time to regain her wits through the shock of the evening’s events. Her fear was quickly being displaced by anger toward her captors, and Walker could see her strength of character and why Alan liked this woman so much.
With disarming calm, she asked, “What do we do now?”
Walker rubbed his chin for a moment before replying, “I’m sorry Holly but we can’t call the Bomb Squad.”
“Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean I’m stupid
. I’m pretty sure you didn’t intend to take any prisoners. And I’m pretty sure you can’t report any of this through official channels.” she replied.
Walker looked at her admiringly.
“You’re a smart woman. Beach is a lucky man.”
“Maybe
, but he’d better have a damned good explanation for all this!”
“Trust me; it’s a dooz
ie! But believe me – none of it is his fault and his only concern is your safety.”
“OK well, we’ve got a dinner at your place on Sunday night
and I have no intention of breaking the date – how are you going to get me out of this mess?”
Walker couldn’t help smiling at her glibness
. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a phone?”
“I thought you couldn’t call the Bomb Squad?”
Kerr interrupted, “Don’t need ‘em ma’am.”
“Why not
? And I’m not your mother so don’t call me that. My name is Holly.”
“Yes ma’am…I mean
no ma’am…sorry.” Kerr fumbled. “It’s a southern thing. Sorry but it’s how I was raised.”
“OK
, if it’s force of habit then so be it. Now can we get back to why you want a phone please?”
“Yes ma’am.
Walker here has some experience in IED disposal but that was a long time ago so he’s kinda worried about doing this. Captain Fouts is up to date. He was with us at the cabin. But we got no way to reach him.”
“Well, why isn’t he with you now?”
Walker interjected, “He had to take care of something else.”
“You mean getting rid of the bodies from the cabin?” she asked calmly.
“Wow, you really are a cool customer, aren’t ya.”
“A realist.
Now get your memory straightened out and get me out of this thing please.”
Walker scratched nervously at his head.
He knelt to examine the device and despite the years since his days as a Ranger Instructor, he could see this wasn’t going to be easy.
“Whaddaya think?” Kerr asked.
“I gotta be honest; it doesn’t look good.”
Just then, Albrecht pulled up outside and Walker told Kerr to get his wire cutters and any other tools he could find from his trunk
and check their SUV for anything useful. He looked around the office and saw an old first aid box. He opened it but there was nothing useful except an almost empty can of Freon. He knew that years ago; some first aid kits offered the gas to companies with a high risk of workplace burns. They would spray the burn to numb the pain until the patient could get to hospital. The practice was stopped because often the Freon would cause additional damage through frostbite.
He gave the
can a shake and it was obvious he would get only a few seconds out of it but it was better than nothing. He could use it to chill the mercury switch in the hope it would make it slightly less sensitive while he dealt with the bomb. Kerr and Albrecht came in and handed him the clippers, along with a tiny blowtorch that Walker used to light his cigars – a passion that he tried desperately to keep from his rabidly anti-smoking wife. He looked apprehensively at the three implements, laid them out on the floor near the chair leg and knelt down again. He turned to lie on his back and stared up at the device for a few minutes then asked, “Albrecht; are we still dark?”
“I’m pretty sure no one heard anything.
Haven’t heard any sirens or chatter on your radio so I think we’re OK.”
The news was a minor relief which meant he had time to think
. His mind was swimming, trying to recall all the details of his IED training and how to apply them to this device. He couldn’t see which of the wires to cut since they were concealed by the switch but he knew he would have to choose. His thick fingers fumbled across the wires trying to get a feel for the device before he raised the cutters to the red wire then changed his mind to the blue then the green. Tension filled the room as Kerr and Albrecht watched on and Holly tilted her head to the ceiling with her eyes tightly shut. Beads of sweat formed on Walker’s brow and just as he was about to squeeze the clippers closed on the yellow wire, a voice from the doorway broke his silence.
“What the hell’s going on here?” Fouts demanded.
Kerr and Albrecht snapped their weapons up toward the door and Walker jumped at the disturbance. He had to jerk his hand away to avoid hitting the sensitive mercury switch. “Shit a brick!” he exclaimed, turning to see Fouts at the door. “What the hell took you so long?”
As Walker pulled himself out from under the chair, Fouts said, “
I thought I was pretty damned quick under the circumstances. He looked at the clippers in Walker’s hand and shook his head disdainfully. “Get outta there old man. I think you’ve been driving a desk too long.” he joked.
“Gladly!
It’s all yours smartass.”
Fouts introduced himself to Holly then crouched to have a look at the device.
The detonator cap and C4 were visible through the acrylic cover so if he could get inside, he could simply pull the cap out and remove the explosive putty. C4 is remarkably stable and the only way it would detonate is if the switch triggered the cap while still close enough to the putty to initiate an explosion.
“Damn good thing I got here when I did or I’d have been scraping everyone off the walls with a putty knife.
You can’t cut the wires on this baby. Hand me that blow torch and the Freon.”
Kerr gave Fouts what he wanted and the SWAT captain
started whistling as he positioned himself under the chair. He sprayed the mercury switch and the outer edge of the detonator cap with Freon. The he clicked the little torch on and burned a neat slot in the acrylic cover, running from the left of the firing cap, along the side to the end. He then turned the corner to follow the end and turned again to continue down the right side back to the cap. His cut formed a flap of acrylic anchored at the detonator cap end. Then he sprayed the acrylic with Freon along the edge of the detonator end, pulled his Spyderco knife out and pried the acrylic flap open. He got his fingers under the flap and pulled down sharply until the frozen acrylic snapped off cleanly at the hinge. He reached into the box, pulled the detonator out of the C4 and folded it away from the explosive charge. Then he simply pulled the brick of puttied explosive from its mount, stood up and handed it to Walker. “Merry Christmas.” he joked. “Now; everyone plug your ears.”
With that he gave one of the chair legs a sharp kick and the detonator cap
made a loud crack like a .38 round. Then he began to cut Holly’s ties with his Spyderco and Kerr joined him. Walker just shook his head, tossed the stick of C4 in the air and caught it then said, “I told you I’m getting too old for this shit. Excuse my French Holly.”
“No need.” she said.
“Four letter words are an excellent way to express many emotions.”
Walker chuckled.
“That’s right – Beach said you’re a shrink.”
“Psychologist - and not quite yet but very soon.”
“Remind me not to leave you alone with my wife on Sunday. Well, I guess I’d better find a phone and call Alan. He’s gonna be pissed I let him down in round one but at least we came through in the end.”
“I think we can just keep
that our little secret. No point in getting him worked up. As you said; you came through in the end.” She turned to the others and said, “And you boys – your money is no good where I work. Free beer whenever I’m working.”
Fouts piped up saying, “
Note to self...rescue at least one fair maiden a week.”
Chapter 1
3
Alan had never been a motorcycle person. He had once ridden a police bike during his initial training many years before but despite its larger engine, the Harley couldn’t compare to the brutal power of the customized BMW he now straddled behind Jake. His initial fear had faded as Jake’s riding expertise became evident and he now found himself enjoying the brisk, smoothly weaving ride through Jersey City. With his head snug in a Schuberth C3 helmet, a firm grip on the passenger grab bar, and his euphoria at knowing Holly was now safe with Lieutenant Walker, Alan began to understand the thrill of riding with an expert, and exhilaration overcame him.
All too soon for Alan, Jake slowed the machine and pushed a concealed button in the big bike’s dash.
A garage door in the side of an old brick building began to roll open in front of them. Alan considered how odd it seemed that a man like Jake would live in an old, working class apartment building but his thoughts were soon interrupted by the sight of a large, shiny solid steel garage door inside the outer door they had just entered. As the outer door shut behind them, Jake removed his riding gloves and reached out to press his entire palm against a black glass panel. The panel lit with an eerie green glow and a deep hum emanated from the solid steel door as it slowly slid to one side revealing a huge, brightly lit garage with several exotic looking vehicles parked throughout.
“What the…” Alan said to himself in astonishment as the bike urged forward.
Jake parked the BMW beside some other bikes which Alan didn’t recognize. His eyes darted around the room trying to take everything in when he was interrupted.
“You can get off now detective.”
“Oh, right…yes, sorry.” he fumbled as he pulled his right leg around behind him to dismount.
Jake joined him on the floor and removed his helmet then helped Alan with the unfamiliar buckle under his chin.
Free of visual restriction, his eyes were wide as saucers as he surveyed the room and its contents.
“Is all this yours?”
“At least until I die.” Jake said philosophically.
“This is unbelievable!”
“I suppose - if you’re not used to it. I’ve been here for a few years now so I don’t really think about it in terms other than security.”
“So the whole building is yours?”
“Yes but I lease the upper floors out to tenants so it appears to be a normal apartment building.”
“That’s clever.
I guess in your position, you have to think about cover all the time.”
“
That’s been my way of life for many years so it’s normal for me. Once this is all over, I would obviously appreciate your discretion about my location.”
“Of course – I understand!” Alan nodded his head vehemently.
“What I don’t understand is how a former government employee can afford all of this.”
“
My parents died when I was young and left me a substantial inheritance. I’ve invested wisely and made it into a large fortune. Shall we?” Jake motioned toward a spiral staircase in the corner of the room.
Alan laughed, “It’s like the ‘Bat Cave’”
“If you say so.”
Alan followed up the stairs into an empty landing and wondered what was next.
He could see no door or exit and waited bemused for the next surprise. Jake pushed on part of the wall and a doorway appeared, leading into a large, luxurious bathroom. The pair walked through and Alan followed into the bedroom then on into the main living area.
“That’s a pretty strange way for me to enter a man’s home.” Alan commented.
“It wasn’t designed for guests.” He motioned toward the kitchen and continued, “There’s coffee and tea or cold drinks in the fridge - help yourself. I’m going to get out of these leathers.”
Alan marveled at the interior of the complex as he walked to the kitchen.
He reached for a cup from the top of the automatic espresso machine, placed it under the nozzle and pushed the button that indicated a full cup. The machine began humming and soon, rich espresso sputtered out to fill the cup. He opened the large double door refrigerator and topped his cup with milk then wandered over to the entertainment center. There was a complicated remote control unit on the table that Alan preferred not to touch so he turned away to explore further.
Walking
away from the bedroom, he came to a door and turned the handle. The door gave way and his eyes widened as a large array of training equipment came into view, such as he’d never seen before. There was a small weight training area but most of the room was filled with a variety of different punching bags, speedballs, kung fu mannequins mounted on springs, and a strange wooden post with sticks poking out of it at various points and angles. His attention then turned to the rear wall where a plethora of martial arts weapons and training tools were mounted. Like a child magnetically drawn, he was soon holding a strange rattan stick by its handle. It had a guard between his hand and what seemed to be the business end of the device and it reminded him of an unopened umbrella with a rubber knob on the tip. His curiosity piqued, he was enthralled examining the device.
“Do you know Kendo?” Jake’s voice boomed from the doorway.
Startled from his deep concentration, Alan dropped the weapon to the floor and turned to Jake, embarrassed by his own childlike curiosity.
“I guess not.” smiled Jake.
“It’s a practice sword for the Japanese fighting style called ‘Kendo’. It means ‘way of the sword’.”
“I’m sorry, I just…”
“No problem; there’s nothing there you can break. Be careful with the pointy ones.” Jake smiled wryly.
Alan tilted his head and gave a half grin at Jake’s
jibe, “You use all these things?”
“I train with all these ‘things’ as you call them but most of them are impractical in real life.
They are simply a means to hone my skills.”
“
What are you; a black belt in Karate or something?”
“Karate
is a good starting point but it has its limitations and the only belt I wear is specifically designed to hold up my pants.”
“
Oh, very droll. Can you explain for those of us in the cheap seats please?”
“
It’s hard not to be amused by the uninitiated. I’ve studied many different martial arts since I was quite young and travelled throughout the world to train in different styles. Colored belts are really only used in commercial schools to keep paying students motivated. True martial artists have no interest in them unless they are setting up a school and most exotic styles don’t have belt systems anyway.”
“
Exotic styles?”
“
I mean non-mainstream styles such as Indonesian Silat, Filipino Escrima, Chinese Chin Na, and others from East Asia. There are also many very good Eurpoean styles which seem to be neglected by commercial schools.”
“And you
do all of these ‘styles’?”
“
I’ve studied many styles but there are too many to be serious about all of them. You could say I’m highly proficient in four, proficient in four others and reasonably good at another half dozen or so.”
“That sounds like a lifetime of study!”
“It is - but there are many similarities between styles. The human body is limited to certain movements and range so most styles only have minor variations between them. In real life situations, the number of truly effective techniques is not large so it’s more a matter of perfecting those and keeping the rest as backup in case you run into someone with similar skills. It’s a bit like war – it is best to keep a vast arsenal of weaponry but in most battles, artillery is used to soften the enemy from afar then tanks move in, followed by militia but if the enemy uses a similar strategy, it becomes a war of attrition so that’s where innovation comes in to minimize losses and gain ground.”
“Spoken like a soldier.”
“Probably because I am a soldier. I won’t go into detail but military service and martial arts have been my life.”
“I still can’t believe you know my lieutenant and that he was a Ranger
.”
“Believe it
- he was not only one of my Ranger Instructors but also a trusted friend and mentor. He recommended me for Special Forces training after Ranger School and my career took off from there. I was surprised when he left the military but I understood his reasons. It’s hard to have a real family life in the service and his job was particularly demanding.”
“I understand – it just amazes me that I have never heard about it before.”
“Most people who talk about being in elite military units are just wannabes who have never actually done it. True military specialists are not interested in bragging or telling tales – they don’t need to. I would imagine your HR department has his service record but they’re not going to tell anyone either so it makes sense to me that this is the first you’ve heard.”
“I guess you’re right.
I’m just not sure how this will affect our relationship – especially since I now owe him for saving Holly.”
“
Believe me; he would never feel that you owe him for such a thing, and if you’re smart, you won’t let it change anything. Trust me - that’s the last thing he wants. He has his reasons for not making his past public and I’m sure he would want you to respect his privacy.”
“You’re right – I guess it’s just taking some time to get my head around it.
”
“Follow me; I’ve got something to take your mind off it.”
Jake walked to a keypad on the wall beside a frame which concealed the heavy, reinforced door to his armory and computer room. He punched in a six digit code and the magnetic bolt clunked into its keep allowing him to push the door open. Alan followed him into the room, wide eyed again.
“Your lifestyle is going to give me a heart attack!”
“It may seem overwhelming but this situation requires a steep learning curve. You need to overcome your astonishment and keep up.”
“I’m doing my best under the circumstances.”
“You sound like a pussy. Sometimes your best isn’t enough – just do it.” Jake said then turned and spoke to no one, “Open file – Lewis documents.”
Slightly insulted,
Alan looked around as if expecting someone to appear from a secret doorway, when a large computer monitor above the workbench came to life and displayed a detailed document.
“
OK, so now I’m in a science fiction novel.”
“
It’s just voice activated computer. I find it useful to keep my hands free. Read the document detective.”
As
Alan read, his mouth opened in amazement. When he finished the page Jake instructed the computer to open the next document and the next until Alan had seen all the most relevant files.
He rubbed his eyes
and scratched his head then turned to Jake, “This is way out of my league! I’ve never heard of such conspiracy in movies, let alone real life! Is it all true?”
“Devlin has developed the largest and most powerful corporate juggernaut
I’ve ever heard of. Who knows what he intends to do with it.”
“I don’t understand how he’s been able to do this!
It goes against all anti-competitive laws – how did he get everything passed by the government?”
“
Looks like antitrust limitations kicked in a few years ago and he couldn’t expand further without being caught. I guess he’s using Blue Sky’s invention to circumvent the legal hurdles. He now controls over forty five percent of all food production, forty percent of all healthcare services and pharmaceuticals, over fifty percent of all oil and gas production and over sixty percent of all weapons manufacturing and development in the USA. We don’t even know the extent of his holdings in Europe and Asia yet. His power in this country is well beyond that of the Executive Office and Congress combined.”
“How could the CIA or NSA or whatever let this happen?”
“It’s neither agency’s responsibility to monitor such things; responsibility lies with industry regulators and legislative bodies. Criminal activities on a federal level are the sole responsibility of the FBI but there has been nothing to tip them off about any such activity. Devlin has used his vast resources to cover every sign of anti-competitive activity through complex corporate holdings that would take a very gifted forensic accountant to uncover. Matt Lewis has been working on this for years and with the help of my computer hacker associate, this is what he uncovered.
It’s my guess that Congressman Taylor’s assassination was a convenient bonus
but Lewis was the actual target. These files are not enough to indict or convict him but Devlin didn’t like someone getting as close to the truth as Lewis did. His meeting with Taylor was to expose this information and hope that Taylor was powerful enough to conduct a full investigation. That’s obviously not going to happen now.”
“Wow, this is a lot to take in!
What are we going to do?”
“I can’t speak for you
but I won’t rest until Devlin pays for what he’s done and his labyrinth of power is destroyed.”