by C. G. Cooper
Brian fit in easily with the team at SSI. Athletic like the rest, his easy-going attitude endeared him to even the most hardcore of SSI operators. It didn’t hurt that Brian was also a Silver Star recipient for saving the lives of his fellow warriors in Iraq.
“Anything else you want to do in Vegas?” Cal asked.
“I heard about a few new clubs that could be fun. Maybe I can practice some of those counter-surveillance techniques Dunn’s been teaching me.”
Todd Dunn was head of internal security at Stokes Security International. Dunn was also a former Ranger that rarely broke from his serious demeanor.
“Have you ever seen that dude disappear in a crowd? It’s unbelievable!”
Cal knew most people underestimated the burly Dunn. What strangers never knew was the cunning and brilliance inside the soldier’s mind. He looked like a typical meat-head but could easily run with the best tacticians in the game. Dunn wasn’t a bad chess player either. He’d trounced Cal on more than one occasion.
“Yeah. I remember when I went through his Urban Escape and Evade course earlier this year. He took a couple of us to the Green Hills Mall. The place wasn’t even close to being packed and we lost him in under a minute. Later he shows up with a detailed description of what I’d done for the whole time. Guy knows his stuff,” affirmed Cal.
The stewardess appeared and asked if she could get the companions anything before landing.
“I think we’re good…” Cal paused to remember the girl’s name.
“Veronica,” she replied with a dazzling smile.
“Veronica,” Cal repeated, “thanks for everything.”
She disappeared down the aisle and Brian took the opportunity to lean over Cal and get a last peek of Veronica’s exit.
“You sure you’re not ready yet?” Brian asked his friend.
Chapter 13
Washington, D.C.
2:10pm, September 16th
“Is everything in position?” the career politician asked into the secure phone.
“Yes. All teams are standing by for your authorization.”
“Good. As we discussed, once I give you the go-ahead the operation must commence within twenty-four hours.”
“Understood.”
“I won’t have any problems with your compatriots will I?”
“No. As long as you hold up your end of the bargain, you will soon be the next President of the United States.”
The politician sat back and smiled. He’d waited a long time for this opportunity. He couldn’t wait to show that moron in the Oval Office what a real leader looked like. “We’ve known each other a long time. Have I ever gone back on my word?”
The man on the other end paused. “We only wish to ensure all parties will move forward together. Once again, our nations will be allied on the same path.”
The politician honestly didn’t give a damn for his partner’s motives. This was all about securing the American presidency.
“You provide what we agreed on and your little empire will rise again,” he sneered into the phone.
“It will be done.”
The politician replaced the receiver. The Democratic National Convention was right around the corner. This one would be absolutely historic. The nation and his party would soon be desperate for a new leader. I’ll be damned if I’ll wait another four years. Maybe it was time to write his acceptance speech.
Chapter 14
Las Vegas, Nevada
3:16pm, September 16th
Cal and Brian checked into their room at the Cosmopolitan Hotel and Casino. It was located in an ideal location at the end of The Strip. Close enough to Neil at the Bellagio, it was also within easy walking distance to Congressman Zimmer at Zeitaku just off The Strip.
Cal glanced at his watch. “Top and Zimmer should be flying in soon. Let’s head over to the Bellagio and check out what Neil’s got.”
Although it was only early afternoon, Las Vegas Boulevard was already packed with tourists. The pair made their way through the throngs and finally arrived at the Bellagio.
“Wow! This place is crazy!” Brian exclaimed.
“You talking about all the people or the hotel?”
“Both! Is it always like this?”
Cal kept reminding himself not to dampen the mood. Brian needed to enjoy the experience.
“The hotel looks even more beautiful at night. We’ll come check it out later. As for the people, I guess the cooler weather’s really brought out the masses this year.”
“Does it have anything to do with the convention?” Brian asked.
“Which one? They have a ton out here.”
“Do you ever watch the news, jarhead? The Democratic National Convention.”
“I get all my news on Drudge, Doc. Besides, why the hell would I care about the left side of the aisle?”
“We are helping out a Democratic Congressman. You know what The Hammer says. Do…”
“Yeah, yeah. Do your homework.” Cal interrupted impatiently. The Hammer was SSI’s lead attorney Marjorie Haines. She’d picked up the nickname not only for her ferocity in the courtroom, but also the way she regularly took down SSI operators on the training mats. It was rumored that she had an impressive array of vintage wines aging in her cellar, thanks in part to the lucrative bets she’d won from SSI warriors. As the only female employee at SSI (a distinction she was silently proud of and didn’t care to share), there was always a challenge especially from cocky newcomers.
The Hammer was also meticulous about preparation. She knew more about impending ops than most of the men going into the field. It was a habit she hammered into her peers constantly. Haines was a valued advisor to Travis (it was also rumored that the two had an on-again off-again romance on the side) and the rest of the SSI leadership team. Beautiful and deadly, she was a force to be reckoned with.
“So when is the convention?” Cal asked.
“This week.”
The two walked in through the Bellagio’s main entrance and headed for the elevators. Cal glanced around casually, further honing his counter surveillance skills. He knew that Las Vegas casinos were some of the most guarded fortresses on Earth. It would be interesting trying to pick out the enemies among the sea of native security staff.
They soon reached Patel’s door and knocked on it.
Pointing to the small peephole Brian asked, “You think that’s one of his rigged cameras?”
The tech genius was known for weaving surveillance gear into anything he could. It also made him one of the most successful pranksters on both SSI campuses.
“I’ll bet it is,” Cal answered. “What the hell’s taking him so long?”
He knocked again. Nothing. Strange.
Cal pulled out his mobile and dialed Neil’s number. Patel picked up on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“Were you asleep?”
“Cal?”
“Yeah, jackass. We’re right outside your door!”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll be there in a sec.”
Cal looked down at his phone and shook his head.
“He did get here yesterday, Cal. I’ll bet he was out gambling all night,” Brian said smirking.
The door opened and a bleary-eyed Neil peered out.
“Sorry guys. Pulled an all-nighter.”
Brian beat Cal to the punch, “How much did you win?”
“What?” asked a clearly confused Patel as he stepped back into the room, Cal and Brian following.
“How much did you win at the craps tables last night?” Brian repeated.
“Oh! I wasn’t gambling, Doc. I was getting all this set up.” Patel motioned to the impressive array of equipment lining the room.
“Holy crap, Neil!” Cal piped, “Are you having an Xbox convention in here?”
“I wish. Figured we’d need as much horsepower as we could get. It was a real pain getting it shipped and setup yesterday. At least now I’ve got everything I’ll need to work remotely.” Neil scratch
ed his disheveled hair and fixed his expensive eyeglasses. His handsome Indian face was lined with two-day-old stubble. “You guys hungry?”
“We just grabbed a quick bite at our hotel,” Cal explained. “You wanna order up some room service or give us a quick rundown of where we’re at?”
Neil gave food a serious thought as he felt his stomach grumble. He knew better than to make his friend wait though. They’d know each other since their days at the University of Virginia, and Neil knew Cal could be an impatient and stubborn ass when he wanted to.
“Let me give you a brief summary and then I’ll get some food.”
Cal nodded and followed Neil over to the main bank of computer screens.
Patel sat down, logged in, and started clicking away on the mouse. Pictures popped up on multiple screens.
“Okay. Based on the information I got from Congressman Zimmer, I’ve started my analysis on this gaming consultancy: Ichiban Gaming. The only intel I’ve gathered on them is from their website and public records. I’ve got a couple of my crawler programs making some inquiries now.” Neil pointed at the far left screen. “This guy right here is the Congressman’s friend, Ishi Nakamura. Looked up his records and so far everything checks out. It does seem a little odd for him to be such a big fish at Ichiban at his age. Then again, it’s his father’s company so you never know.”
Cal interrupted. “This guy is dirty, Neil. No way could he call off the hounds at a murder scene without having some pull. Do whatever you need to do to find out more.”
“Already on it. I’m pulling his banking history right now. With that, I can track where he’s been. Should know more soon.”
“Okay. I’m going to Zimmer’s hotel to take a look around. Do you have my order?” Cal asked.
“Yeah, it’s all in that box.” Neil pointed to a black case, about two feet by four feet in size, laying on the nearest chaise lounge.
Cal kneeled down and opened the case. Inside were three pistols and plenty of ammunition from the SSI armory. Nothing less than a .45. Cal ignored them. Walking into a Las Vegas hotel armed wasn’t the best thing. Instead, he snagged one of four knives and pulled it out of the sheath. The blade, six inches in length, was pointed and razor sharp on both edges. He’d heard about these particular blades in one of his favorite novels and decided to order them a few months earlier. It was a small weapon but effective in a pinch. More importantly you could strap it to your wrist and carry it concealed. Retrieval was easy and deadly. After the attack in Nashville the previous year, Cal never left home unprepared. Although he would’ve loved his trusty Springfield XD pistol, the blade would do.
He looked up at Ramirez, pointing at the remaining weapons. “You want one?”
“I’m good. I’ll stick with my pennies,” Brian said, patting his jean pockets.
Brian was talking about the two sets of rolled pennies, one in each pocket. They weren’t as good as a firearm, but very effective in a fistfight. Besides, Ramirez wasn’t a stranger to hand-to-hand combat. He’d spent plenty of time in the Principal’s office as a kid. Going to an all-white (save one) school in Nashville hadn’t always been the easiest. There were always a couple of rednecks that wanted to pick on his Hispanic heritage. They soon found out that the little beaner was a scrapper, thanks to hours of practice in the boxing ring.
Cal took off his sport coat, strapped the knife onto his left arm, and put his coat back on. “You ready, Doc?”
“Let’s go.”
+++
“Father, the Congressman will be landing soon,” Ishi bowed to his father.
Kazuo Nakamura, a slightly overweight man, looked at his son with pride. To think that all their plans were finally coming to fruition. Years of planning. Congressman Zimmer was the icing on the cake. Yes, delivered by their contact in Washington, but designed and executed by Ishi.
“Good. Ensure our eyes are always on him,” he said as he stroked his graying goatee.
“Yes, Father. There has been one new development.” Ishi offered cautiously.
“And what would that be, my Son?”
“It seems that the Congressman has a bodyguard with him.”
“How did you find out about this?”
“Our contact sent me an encrypted email an hour ago. Apparently, the Congressman contacted a company called SSI to provide security.”
“What?! The fool! You assured me that this would not happen.”
“I warned him, Father. There is more.”
All vestiges of Kazuo Nakamura’s calm façade disappeared. “What else has he done?!”
“Our contact also alerted me to the fact that there might be additional SSI personnel coming to Las Vegas to conduct surveillance. He was only able to provide a brief profile of one man, a Calvin Stokes, Jr. Mr. Stokes is the heir to the company’s founder; his deceased father.”
Kazuo stroked his beard, thinking. “Did he provide a physical description?”
“He provided a picture from his military record. Calvin Stokes is a former Marine.”
“Provide the photograph to the security staff at each of our hotels. If this Calvin Stokes sets foot in one of them I want him followed and apprehended…quietly.”
“Should I use one of our teams?”
“No. Use our Russian friends. They know how to be discreet.”
“Yes, Father. I will take care of it.”
“Is there anything else?”
“No, Father.”
“Our time is coming, my Son. Do well and our family will soon attain new heights within the empire.”
Chapter 15
Las Vegas, Nevada
7:40pm, September 16th
Dusk was falling as the young man prepared. He splashed cold water on his face and looked into the bathroom mirror. His strong chiseled jaw was now covered with a shaggy beard. His blonde hair, once cut to military precision, hung to his shoulders. I look more like a mountain man these days, he thought. He finished in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom to collect his clothes and his weapons. Maybe tonight God would answer his call.
+++
Brian and Cal hadn’t found anything of interest at the Congressman’s hotel. There were some exclusive gambling rooms filled with foreign high-dollar players and two swanky Japanese restaurants, but nothing that stood out. At least now they had a better idea of the lay of the land.
Cal did not want to be in the hotel when Trent and the Congressman arrived. They’d already arranged a separate meeting outside of enemy territory for the next day.
The darkening sky found the duo walking the strip, meandering with the crowds. There wasn’t any work to do tonight so they’d decided to see the sights.
“You want to hit that new club over by Caesar’s? I think it’s free before ten.”
“Which one is that?” Cal asked as he swerved to avoid one of the thousands of leaflet purveyors trying to get the attention of wandering tourists.
“Motown Moscow. It’s some kind of fusion of Jazz and Communism. Rumor has it that an ex-KGB agent runs the place.”
“Motown Moscow? I don’t know, Doc. I’m not a huge fan of jazz.”
“Come on, Cal. Where’s your sense of adventure? Maybe they’ll have one of those crazy, frozen vodka bars with Miles Davis playing on top!”
“Okay, okay. But if I get hit on by some seven foot tall Russian troll…”
“Don’t worry, man. It’ll be fun. I promise to get you home before midnight.”
Brian led the way after quickly glancing at his smart phone’s mapping app.
+++
“You’re sure it was him?” Ishi asked into his mobile phone. He listened for the response. “Good. Have the Russians follow and get rid of them.”
A pre-emptive strike would impress his father. If things were coming as close to fruition as his father thought, now was the time to take action.
+++
“Are you sure we’re going the right way? I think we’re too far off The Strip, Doc.”
“Hold on. Let me check again.”
As Brian checked his phone, Cal got the nagging feeling that they were being watched. He casually glanced around, taking in the crowd. Nothing jumped out. Maybe he was tired. Just as he turned back to his friend, he caught someone’s eye. The man’s gaze lingered a breath too long. Something about the bearded man set off alarm bells in Cal’s brain.
“We need to move, now.”
Brian looked up from his phone. “Huh?”
“Don’t look around. Just act casual. We’ve got a tail. Bearded giant about forty yards back.”
Brian took Cal’s cue and followed. They weaved in and out of the packed sidewalk. Let’s see how persistent this guy is, Cal thought as he quickly turned down a small side street.
As soon as they entered the street, Cal knew he’d made a mistake. What he’d thought was a street was just one of the many service entrances to a casino. No exits unless the back door happened to be open.
“Shit,” Cal whispered.
“This is a dead end, Cal.”
“I know. Just keep going.”
“Why do you think this guy’s following us?”
Cal had no idea. Money? Random thuggery?
He stole a quick look back. The bearded giant had materialized with two enormous companions. Maybe it’s time to find out what these guys want.
Cal nudged Brian and said loudly, “Dude, this isn’t the right way!”
Brian took the cue. “Crap! Sorry. I think we turned one street too early.”
They swung around and saw that the three giants had quickly closed the gap. Twenty yards separated the two parties.
“Hey, fellas! You guys know how to find Motown Moscow?” Cal asked cheerfully. Maybe the whole thing was a fluke.
Instead of answering, the three men kept walking forward. Their wide frames moved in unison. They fanned out to surround Cal and Brian. As they stepped closer, a van screeched to a halt at the opening of the service alley. The side door banged open and two more men jumped out.