Torching the Crimson Flag

by Conrad Brasso

  “Another day, David. There’s no time right now. I’ll see you again, I hope.”

  Alexei stayed in his office as the other Russian escorted the two Americans to the elevator.

  “Thank you,” Tank acknowledged, not wanting to say anything more than that, knowing that it could be recorded or monitored.

  “You’re welcome. It was nice to meet you.”

  As they descended in the elevator car, David noticed Tank’s swollen jaw. They walked out of the building and saw Bruce had kept his promise. He was sitting inside the Samurai on the front passenger’s seat, exactly where they’d left him.

  Once they’d driven off the property, David caught Tank’s eye in the rearview mirror. “You okay, kid? It looks like you took quite a shot to the jaw?”

  “Yeah, I noticed that, too,” Bruce added, rotating in his seat and looking back at his fellow operator. “What happened?”

  “I didn’t like it there. That place is cursed.”

  David nodded. “Embassies always carry the mood of their nation.”

  “Division. Battling spirits. Evil. Dangerous.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So, what happened?” Locke asked again.

  Tank debriefed what he’d gone through, and David summarized his conversation with Sokolov, leaving out the part where he felt the Russian was about to confide in him.

  “How are we going to read what’s on the drive?” Bruce asked.

  “We can’t use any public computers,” Tank stated.

  “Did you guys bring adapters for your tablets?” asked Hirsch.

  “I didn’t even think about it.”

  “Me neither,” responded Bruce.

  David shook his head. “We need Justin.” As he said that, his phone buzzed. He pulled the Japanese jeep over to the side of the road and parked it behind a tow truck, turning the headlights off. “Let’s find out why Michi is calling.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  When the Stone family entered LaunchPad, everything was quiet. Ashley and Saara were in the medical clinic, working steadily on Fox, trying to keep him alive. Michiko had pulled a little couch out from the small lounge room and dragged it closer to the door. She had Leonard’s phone, and her own phone tucked under her pillow and had pulled a blanket over her body. At the sound of their arrival, she groggily woke up, and when she saw who it was, she sprang to her feet.

  “Hi, you guys! Welcome back.”

  Everyone exchanged hugs and greetings.

  “Did everything go, okay?”

  Trey understood what she was asking. She’d been concerned about the family being followed from the airport. He nodded, “Yes. We’ve arrived safely. I didn’t spot a tail.”

  “How’s Fox?” Bao Zhen asked.

  “I wish I had some good news for you, but so far, he is still in very critical condition.”

  “Do we need to get him to a hospital?" Trey asked.

  “Ashley told us that she knows her limitations, and if she thinks we need to transfer him, she will let us know.”

  “Okay,” Bao Zhen answered. “This is so scary for her. I can’t imagine what she’s going through. I just want to run in and give her a hug, but I know they need to focus.”

  Michi nodded. “I’ve felt the same way.” She turned to Trey, “I have instructions to wake your father when you get in.”

  “Hold off on that. He needs rest. We might have a big push coming up.”

  Michi was conflicted.

  “Really. He needs the rest. I promise I’ll take the blame if he’s not happy with the decision.”

  “Okay, Trey.”

  Trey shifted gears. “David sent instructions. He has a chopper coming for me. I’m supposed to grab my kit and meet up with them. Are you coming?”

  “No. I think I’ll stay here.” Michiko answered. “Dr. Stone needs support. After Justin and Bora are here, I’ll feel freer to assist in the field if necessary.”

  “The Parks are coming?” Lin Lin Ma asked, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Was their honeymoon over?”

  “No,” Michi answered. “It was a decision they made on their own. They both agreed they were ready to come back.”

  “Oh, wow. Okay.”

  Justin had texted Trey a suggested checklist for his kit, so he headed to the tactical equipment area and started putting it together.

  “I need to eat something,” Jasmine stated.

  Her mom and grandmother agreed. “They didn’t have much to eat on the plane.”

  “How was Banff?” Agent Imada asked Jasmine, putting her arm around her shoulders as they walked towards the kitchen. The two of them had become very close in the last mission when they found themselves embroiled in an operation to penetrate the Emerald Wasp network with a team of operatives. Even though Jasmine was only sixteen, she had been diligently training and was definitely on her way to becoming an elite fighter. Even Michi had been impressed with her instincts in the field.

  “Banff was stunning. So beautiful. And the touristy buzz was addictive. I want to go back soon.” She grinned. “Maybe it would be fun to work at one of the ski resorts when I’m out of high school.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Michi responded with a smile. “I’d have to come visit you, for sure!”

  “Yes! It would be amazing to hang out with you in Banff. You’d love it too. Have you ever been there?”

  Michi shook her head. “It’s a favorite destination for Japanese to visit, but I’ve never had the privilege.”

  As she was speaking, the sound of a chopper approaching could be heard outside. Trey’s ride had arrived.

  Nathan could tell something had just happened. Chen and Bing came storming into the warehouse and signaled the third guy to come over to them. An intense conversation was taking place.

  “Trouble in paradise,” he remarked to Sasha.

  “It certainly looks that way.”

  “Shouldn’t you be over there discussing things with them?” It was a clever little question. Harris wanted to better understand Sasha’s relationship with the kidnappers.

  She didn’t take the bait.

  After a few more minutes of conversation, Chen came over to where Nathan and Sasha were sitting while the other two men exited the building. “We have intel that our location might have been compromised,” he reported. “We’ll set up a perimeter and keep going as planned.”

  The blonde woman nodded.

  Nathan heard the warehouse door open and observed six men come in. Two of them were the guys that had escorted Sasha in. There were two new faces he hadn’t seen before. Both Asian. Then there was Bing and the guy who never talked.

  Each one of them was carrying cases of equipment, black duffel bags, and backpacks. They had serious expressions on their faces as they set up a table and began to unpack their gear. Nathan didn't know much about weapons, but he knew these guys were getting ready for a small war. There were handguns, shotguns, long rifles, submachine guns, and a few types of grenades. He watched them as they checked their equipment, loaded mags, and quietly discussed strategy. Nathan wondered whether or not there would be more people coming because the guns definitely outnumbered the six men. His question was answered a few minutes later when the door to the giant pigsty opened, and more people arrived. He counted seventeen all together.

  The men didn't seem to communicate particularly well, and Harris wondered how they all knew each other. The more he thought about it, he realized that there was a core of people who were committed to the abduction project, but the rest were probably hired security. Former military of some kind. People like that. They were skilled and highly trained but not Chinese. Some of them were Caucasian, a few were black, and then it looked like some might have been Hispanic. That's just the way that Dr. Harris' brain operated. He loved identifying different cultures and figuring out language groupings. It's how he was wired. When he was younger, his schoolmates would call him a “culture nerd” and he’d always taken it as a
compliment.

  The warehouse door opened, and two more guys walked in. They were carrying a large whiteboard between them, and after they entered, the door slammed shut behind them. Chen and Bing rallied the guys around them. They placed the Whiteboard on a little metal railing that ran around the inside of the building. It had probably been a wall-anchor for more pig sties when the farm was in operation. Using the Whiteboard, Bing began to run through tactical strategy. Nathan couldn't tell what they were drawing on the board, but it seemed to be comprehensive. The Chinese guy who never talked was standing off to the side, observing everything. Harris still didn't know who he was and couldn't figure out his role. He guessed that he was a reporter of sorts. Maybe he was the guy who made sure that everything was operating according to some other larger schedule and plan. He wasn't the boss here, but by his behavior and the unspoken deference the others showed, it seemed clear that he was reporting to someone higher up the food chain. The translator wondered if he even spoke English. He might not have. Maybe one of the reasons why he wasn't talking was because he didn't speak the language.

  Nathan was impressed with how Bing led the meeting. Having been the White House translator, he had seen all kinds of leaders in operation. Even the different presidents that he had served, each had different leadership styles. His favorite President to work with was George Baker, a few administrations ago. He was very inclusive in how he led and always valued others’ opinions. Sometimes after meetings, he would even ask Dr. Harris what he had thought about what the other side had been saying. In fact, Baker was the only president who had ever asked Nathan for his opinion. The translator had often wondered why that was the case. Some presidents saw getting other opinions as a weakness. They felt like if they didn't have all the answers, then they were perceived as unintelligent. They didn't need other people's input. Bing was the kind of leader that Nathan liked. He watched as the boss of this group presented the plan and then got people's feedback on it to improve it. From Nathan's experience, this was not typical of the way most Asians led.

  It looked like the time for action was at hand. The meeting broke up, and a few men got in line to go to the restroom while others started to strap on gear of various sorts. It was dark outside, and he noted that most of them were putting on night vision goggles. A few of them tried them out, and then took them off again, to replace the batteries. He realized that he knew nothing about how those things worked.

  Some career-workers in the White House had felt that Nathan should have been trained in martial arts, counter-terrorism strategies, and basic weaponry. He didn't necessarily disagree with them, but it was just an impossible undertaking. When Nathan wasn't translating, he was studying for upcoming assignments. It was very important for him to have the necessary vocabulary mastered by the time he was needed for the next meeting. Often he spent hours memorizing specific jargon. When he had met with world leaders to talk about nuclear proliferation in the Middle East, for example, he had to spend hours memorizing the terminology surrounding how those weapons were made and what their effect could be if they were detonated. He had to know the vocabulary in Arabic, Korean, Chinese, and Japanese, as well as in German, French, English, Italian, and Spanish.

  The men had all gathered back together now. They were fist-bumping each other and then filing out of the building and slipping into the night. Chen and Bing approached Nathan and Sasha. They had thick black hoods in their hands.

  “Put these back on, please,” Chen said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Boyd couldn't relax. She was sitting in her uncle's old Ford pickup, the kind with a bench seat in the front and windows that rolled down with a handle, not a button. It was parked outside of Tex’s Drive-In. The diner in tiny Honoka’a was famous for its ono shrimp burgers and freshly baked malasadas. People came from all over the island to eat there, and scores of tourists would stop by on bus tours. Her uncle suggested they take the scenic route back to the Kona-side from Kohala and make a bit of a detour to pick up food from Tex’s. Although she loved all of it, part of her was very agitated and unsettled. She watched her uncle come back to the truck with paper bags full of food. He got in, started the engine, and shifted into drive.

  Ten minutes later, after no conversation, he turned to her and asked, "What's wrong Boyd?”

  She obviously couldn't share about the White House translator, but she shared enough for him to know that there was action going on, and she wasn't in the middle of it.

  Her uncle thought carefully about how to respond to her. He wondered whether she was sharing to get his input, or just sharing to get it out of her system. In the end, he decided to say something. “Do you have confidence in this guy?”

  “What guy?"

  “The guy that called you.”

  “Yes. Definitely. He’s been amazing to work for. I’ve never felt safer or more respected than being with this team.”

  “Then, you’re not out of the action, Boyd. You’re right where he needs you. Don't get all twitchy and restless. When he does call on you, he’ll need you to be in the right frame of mind.”

  Instantly, down to her core, Agent Carter knew that was good advice. Not just good. Great. She had needed to hear that perspective. They drove through the beautiful Big Island town of Waimea, rated one of the most livable places in Hawaii, and passed the rolling hills of Parker Ranch, at one time, the biggest privately-owned cattle ranch in the United States. Many famous Hawaiian cowboys, called paniolos by locals, had ridden those pastures on horseback working for the Parker family. The Big Island’s beauty, with all its many different climate zones, was ruggedly unique and refreshingly inspiring, but Boyd had always loved discovering the history and stories of the people of this land. She was proud to be part of it.

  About thirty minutes later, they pulled into the grassy parking lot of the famous little red church across from the Big Island Country Club. It was an often-photographed structure by visiting tourists, and in the far corner of the lot was a big wild olive tree. Someone had conveniently placed a rugged handmade bench under the tree. Boyd and her uncle got out of the truck to sit in the leafy shade and eat their food.

  “Why did you want me to pick you up and bring you back to Kona today?”

  “I felt like I needed to be close to the airport. I don't know when I’ll be asked to jump in, but like you said, I need to be ready. Thanks for helping me adjust my attitude.”

  “How long do you think that you're going to keep doing this stuff, Boyd?”

  “I don’t know. I honestly feel like it's my calling. And I love it.”

  “As long as you keep coming back to visit us, I guess it's okay.” He noticed that his niece was wearing shorts. She didn't do that very often. Now he understood why. He had never seen a pair of legs with so many scars. “Do you want to tell me about some of those?” he asked, pointing them out.

  “Someday, I’ll tell you a lot of stories, Uncle.” She turned and watched a wild turkey fly in from the field next to the property and land on the church’s front porch. “Stories that you might not even believe, but they’re all true.” She thought for a few minutes, recalling some of them. “A lot of memories have to do with saving people's lives. And some have to do with seeing people's lives lost.”

  “Are you fighting overseas?”

  “Wherever the action goes. Sometimes it's here in our country.” She thought for a few minutes and then asked, “Uncle, do you know much about child trafficking?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve read a little about human trafficking. But children?”

  For the next hour, she filled him in on some of the things that LaunchPad had uncovered. She didn't give any names or details, but it was enough for him to learn about the evils that were going on in this world and why she felt so needed. It wasn't just about her ferocious set of skills, but there was a deeper calling and commitment: to free those who are still suffering from modern-day slavery. As she spoke, her phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her pocket and lo
oked at the screen. It was an app-message from Justin. He was just checking in with her and wanted to know what weapons she had with her on the island.

  The Parks were waiting at the airport. They’d returned the RV, parked their car in long-term parking, and found the airport gate that serviced private planes.

  Justin had just texted a list of kit suggestions to Boyd. He had also sent a message to Trey, but before he did, he’d checked with David to see if they needed anything. Agent Stone was going to bring it with him. Then he texted Michiko and made sure she knew the security protocols for if LaunchPad should come under attack. Usually, David was the one responsible for the strategic response if they came under fire, and Justin was responsible for the tactical side. He wasn’t expecting anything, but he redesignated the responsibilities to Leonard and Michi, just in case. He texted both of them a summary of what their duties would be and where the defensive weaponry was located. With all of that wrapped up, he stood up and stretched. He’d set Bora up with a secure satellite internet connection and had found a way to hotspot wireless from it so she could use her laptop.

  “There is not much on this company,” she muttered.

  “What's it called again?”

  “Carousel Shipping, LLC.”

  “Where are they located?”

  “Wyoming.”

  “Really? Wyoming?”

  “It's the new Delaware for Limited Liability Companies. Their incorporation and taxation laws are very business-friendly so tons of businesses incorporate there whether that’s where they are actually located or not.”

  Over the next hour, Justin focused on making lists of things to do. He didn’t want to disturb his wife and could tell that she was dialed in. She loved doing research. Actually, in the last operation, her research gifting had flourished. Even Leonard Stone and David Hirsch expressed how impressed they were. And Justin had to admit, he was pretty proud.

  He glanced over at her. Her brow was furrowed, and her face was intently staring at the screen as she traced back the history of the shipping company. She had a few different browser tabs open, and he could see that she was also researching financials, how the shipping industry worked, and understanding shell companies a little bit better.