Torching the Crimson Flag

by Conrad Brasso

  Bruce was just about to pronounce his side clear when he caught movement to his right. At the same time, he heard barking. A dog came charging up towards him, and Agent Locke had to take him out with a slug from his Glock.

  Off in the distance, sirens started to wail.

  “Clear!” Bruce shouted, charging back through the woods, keeping an eye out on his left, where it went deeper into the trees. “I’ll see you at the building. We have to move! Fast!”

  Trey stayed where he was, in a prone position covering the front entrance while Bruce and Tank hurriedly stacked up on the pig farm’s front door. Testing the handle, Locke found that it was unlocked. He jerked it open and tossed a flashbang into the room. The noise was deafening as it echoed off of bare concrete walls.

  Tank charged in, weapons up, with Bruce on his six. The entire facility was empty.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Except for the sleeping doctors who needed rest, and Bora, who wanted to stay immersed in the research she was doing, everybody in LaunchPad had gathered for this moment.

  “What do you mean, empty?” asked Leonard, standing up and staring at the speakerphone with a frustrated furrowed brow.

  “We're looking at a couple of old pigsties with metal railings around them,” Trey answered. “In the middle of the room is a table with some chairs. But other than that, there's nothing here. Nobody. I’ll upload some video footage when we have improved reception.”

  “Trey, you process the warehouse. If Iris was there, he might’ve left a clue. Bruce and Tank, you check out the bodies that you stacked up. Justin says local law enforcement will be on-site in about eight minutes. You have seven to gather any evidence and bug out. We can debrief and regroup later.”

  Justin ended the call, and Leo sat down, frustrated.

  “So, where does that leave us?” Bao Zhen asked.

  “I need to update the president. What do we need from him?” Stone asked.

  “I don't think we need to hit him up for any big asks right now,” Justin answered. “We should probably save those for when we really need it. But if he could clear out some roadblocks for Dusti so she can get us satellite footage from over the pig processing plant without getting her boyfriend fired, that would be great.”

  Michi agreed. “Iris was there, and now he's gone. Someone must have picked him up.”

  “Do we need the FBI to take over the investigations that local law enforcement is doing? Like here at the cemetery, in Hawaii, and now the one in North Carolina?”

  “I'm not sure the FBI can do much more than what we're doing,” answered Justin. “They’ll examine the bodies and run the results through their software. Thanks to Saara, we now have a more comprehensive facial recognition database than they do because we have access to the CIA, Interpol, the FBI, and several other worldwide databases that they don't have. They’re already helping us with fingerprints. But POTUS might want to have the FBI take over the local investigations just to make things disappear. I don’t know.”

  “We haven't gotten any hits?”

  “Not so far. It’s going to be about another sixty minutes for everything to process.”

  “What about the phones that you brought back, Michi?”

  “Justin’s got his software program working on cracking them, right?” she answered, turning to him.

  “Yes. They are decrypting now. Should be done in the next twenty minutes.”

  Dr. Stone looked down at his phone. He’d just gotten a text from Trey. “Blue Team is Oscar Mike to the extraction zone.”

  “Okay,” Justin said, pulling up the map on his tablet and sharing it with the table-screen.

  Dr. Stone stood up and then turned to Michi. “I’m going to call President Webb and update him. I’m also going to ask him for a plane to take you to Honolulu. I don’t want Boyd down there by herself. Something in my gut tells me you need to go down there. I’d send Fox, too if we could, but...” His voice trailed off in worried frustration.

  “Yes, sir,” answered Michi. “I’ll get packed and ready to go.”

  “Do you have a kit ready for her?” asked Leo, turning to Justin.

  “Yes, sir. Her kit is ready. Everyone’s is.”

  “Good work, Justin.”

  Ke’ehi Lagoon Beach Park usually emptied by 9:00 PM, although it officially closed an hour later. Even before then, it wasn’t an overly-popular place to go. The Mayor and KK got out of their cars and walked along the sandy beachfront to a bench that overlooked the dark ocean. The only people that were close to them were a couple of teenagers sitting on a blanket on the sand about four hundred feet away. They were glued to their phones or each other, so Tom wasn’t worried about them.

  “How’s Mary?” Landow asked.

  “She’s doing good. Still working at the Hilton. Keeps her busy.”

  “That’s great. The girls?”

  “I hardly see them anymore. They’re all in university. Charity will be graduating in design, this year. Lisa is focused on becoming a veterinarian. Rebecca’s just taking general ed courses.”

  “Wow. Can’t believe they’re all grown up already.”

  “Yeah. Time slips by, eh?”

  “So, are they still single?”

  “The older two have boyfriends. One of them is a haole guy from Chicago. Nice, though. I haven’t met Charity’s boyfriend yet. Local guy, I guess.”

  The two men sat there for a few minutes of silence, listening to the waves rolling in, and watching stars becoming more visible.

  “Have you checked your bank account today?” the mayor asked.

  Keahi looked surprised. “My bank account?”

  “Check your balance.”

  “Which one?”

  “Both of them.”

  KK opened his First Hawaiian Bank app on his phone and typed in his username and password. Before he could access it, they texted him a security code, and he entered it. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the balance. “What is this?”

  “A possibility.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Some people I’m connected with want to take care of your financial problems.”

  “Is this legal?”

  “Of course. You’re on the board of a company called Coconut Harbor Consultants. It’s a paid position, and you just got your first payment.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “They’re a group of harbormasters from around the world who share information and advice. They picked you.”

  “Why?”

  “KK. Who cares? You’ll get another payment in a few weeks. Just think about it. House paid off. No credit card debt. Cars paid off.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “There are more to come. With the next one, your girls will all be able to graduate without owing a thing for college. And the one after that will cover your taxes.”

  “Nothing’s free, Tom.”

  “No. That’s true, Keahi. Nothing is free.”

  “Where did this money come from?”

  “I told you. It’s all legitimate. You’re a consultant now. As far as the IRS goes, there’s a money trail they can follow that’s completely authentic.”

  “Who put it in my account?”

  “I did. Transferred it yesterday, but it took some time to hit your account.”

  “You?”

  “That’s right. I’m part of the company, too, KK.”

  The harbormaster thought about that for a few minutes, then he said, “What do I need to do, Mayor Landow?”

  “There will be some shipments coming in where you’ll need to look the other way. And not just you, but the whole harbor.”

  “No way.”

  The mayor reached into his shirt pocket and handed a picture to KK.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s an illegal shipment that already passed through your harbor. Unnoticed. Unchecked.”

  “Are you blackmailing me with this?”

  The mayor was fed up. “KK, that’s ridi
culous. Welcome to the consulting world. If you don’t want to be a part of it, then reverse the money transfer, and we’ll find another port that’s more capable of tailoring their operations to our needs. I’ll keep this picture,” he said, grabbing it out of Keahi’s hand and slipping it back into his shirt pocket. “If the funds aren’t reversed by tomorrow afternoon, I’ll assume you’re on board.”

  “Tom, do you even know who’s quarterbacking this?”

  Landow got off the bench and turned to look at Keahi Kahananui-Jones. “Yes. And you’ll want to play ball, trust me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The West Hawaii Today, a Gannett rag on the Big Island known locally as West Hawaii Yesterday, was full of opinion journalism about the bodies found in Pu’uanahulu. The headlines blasted, “Three Dead in Gang Hit,” and the article went on to describe a ruthless ring of criminals from the Ukraine that was spreading across the island and attacking innocent people like the three “gentlemen found gunshot with wounds that indicated, torture and trauma.” In Maryland, the press took a similar tack, denouncing the horrors of gang violence that has been growing up and down the East Coast. The talking points that went out to the local media outlets called the murder of three people in a cemetery “brutal and completely unprovoked.” In North Carolina, nothing had shown up in the local press yet. But Bora was sure the report would follow a similar pattern. She decided to talk with Dr. Stone.

  Leonard was sitting in the conference room, wondering when Dusti was going to call with a traffic report that might be able to help them. The chopper had refueled and picked up Blue Team but then, with nowhere to go, had flown to a nearby airfield. The group was catching some shut-eye while awaiting instructions.

  Bora knocked on the door and entered when Leo motioned for her to come in.

  “I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said.

  “No, no. Of course not. Come on in.”

  “Bao Zhen took Michi to the airport. She should be in Honolulu in under six hours. The jet that President Webb furnished was a G650.”

  Dr. Stone nodded. “Thanks for the update,” he said, standing up.

  “I've been doing a lot of research, and I think I need your help thinking this through.”

  Leonard sat down again at the same time Bora did.

  She noticed his old-school manners and smiled, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Bora. Should we get anyone else in here?"

  “No, I don't think so. At least not yet.”

  “Okay, what have you discovered?”

  “Honestly, it's like a tangled mess of cables, but I’m just going to pick one and start. What makes it confusing is how few people's names are anywhere on this stuff. When you look at Red Flag, for instance, there are a few names involved. Seiko Chiu, Antonio Sabini, and Helmut Wagner. But the vast majority of shareholders in their company are other companies. When you start to look those up, you find that their listed members are other companies who have invested in them, too, but no individuals. I hope I'm not confusing you. I'll give you an example. We talked about Helmut Wagner, the Austrian ex-pat on the board of Red Flag. He also owns Sherpa Containers LLC, and Sherpa Containers is on the board of Carousel Shipping. I can't find any other people on the board of Carousel Shipping, but there are other companies. There’s Diamond Face Distributors, LLC. Magna Distribution, LLC. Fire and Onyx, LLC. They’re a lighting and masonry company of some sort. And all of these companies are investors in Carousel Shipping. As far as I can tell, all of the companies are legitimate, on paper at least. Each one, in turn, has other companies that have invested in them.”

  “Wow. Quite the web.”

  “Also, I noticed how profitable these companies are. There isn't a single one that’s struggling. They’re all doing extremely well.”

  Leonard looked at the notes from her tablet that she’d shared with the screen-table. “How many companies are usually investing partners?”

  “Each company has at least five other investing companies in it. And all five of those are making a profit.”

  “So you're saying that I could pick one of these companies, like Fire and Onyx, and there will be five or six other companies who are the investor group for Fire and Onyx.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And Fire and Onyx has also invested in Carrousel Shipping. Which invested in Red Flag.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay. I’m following you. And it's tough to find an actual name that's associated with any of those companies. Is that what you're saying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, what does this have to do with us?”

  “I'm running into some coincidences. I don't have much to go on, but, interestingly, we have an Austrian guy who owns a container company that makes custom containers. He’s directly connected to a shipping company that is one of the investor companies in Red Flag. That same shipping company, Carousel Shipping, is in the investor group for the McMantis Group.”

  “The company that owns the expired pork processing facility in Falling Creek, North Carolina?”

  “Yes.”

  “So this ties Wagner directly to Red Flag and the Piggery.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So Red Flag could be involved in the kidnapping of the White House translator.”

  She nodded. “I believe so.”

  “How many interacting companies are on your list to research?”

  “Over three hundred.”

  “All connected?” Leo asked, stunned.

  Bora nodded. “That’s right. They aren't all shipping companies, but a lot of them are connected to transportation or real estate.”

  “And they’re all American companies?”

  “All were either incorporated or domesticated in the United States, yes.”

  “Wasn't Helmut Wagner connected to Hawaii?”

  “From what I can find, he has an address in Shanghai and one in Honolulu. He seems to go back and forth. Probably because his twin kids live on Oahu. They’ll be graduating from the University of Hawaii this year.”

  “What about his wife?”

  “She's on the board of directors for Punahou School, where her kids went before college. Other than that, I couldn’t find out much about her.”

  “I don't see the point of Boyd staying on the Big Island. I think she should make her way to Honolulu. Maybe she should visit this lady. What’s her name?”

  “Linda Wagner.”

  “Okay, Bora, you remember Jennifer Wu?”

  Mrs. Park remembered her well. Living in Hong Kong and very high up in the banking world, she had her pulse on all kinds of financials. She’d helped the Stone family with her talents to follow the money and help break cases open. “Yes, I remember her.”

  “Send her your list of companies and ask her to follow up with their financials. You can let her know that we’re working a case for the White House, and we need her help. Maybe that’ll help her move a little more quickly. While she’s doing that, go through and tag all your information in a way that allows us to pull up specific groupings. Do you know how to do that?”

  “I think so. You want it so that we could immediately pull the companies that operate from the West Coast, for example.”

  “Right. Or group the ones that are involved in transportation. Or all the ones that are distributors. Think of as many different angles as possible.”

  Justin walked in, just as they were finishing up. “I’ve got information from the two phones that we found at the cemetery and some news from the weapons.”

  Nathan Harris felt groggy and slightly disoriented. It took him a few minutes to realize he’d been drugged. His eyes opened, but all he saw was the inside of his thick black head covering resting against his face. He tried moving his hands and was a little surprised to find that they weren't bound.

  “Do I have to keep this on?” he asked, hearing some voices a little further away from him.

  “Hey, do I have to wear this?”r />
  Nobody answered him, so he decided to be bold and pulled the thing off. He was lying on a couch in a long, narrow, brightly lit room. It seemed to be about fifty feet long and just under ten feet wide. To his left was a little kitchenette with a small dining table and beyond it was a tech center. It was much more than an office space. With an entire wall of computer monitors on either side of the room and small desks sitting underneath them, it looked like the mobile headquarters for storm chaser or alien hunters in a movie. He found his body moving side to side and realized that they weren't in a room at all. They were in something that was moving. It wasn't a ship. It didn't have the rocking motion that a person gets, sitting on top of the waves. Harris noticed that beyond the office was a small room that had a sign on the outside. A bathroom.

  “Am I in a wall-less bus of some sort?” he asked, not realizing that he had just spoken it out.

  “Nathan!” a familiar voice called out. It was Chen. He got up from sitting at one of the desks. “I'm glad to see that you’ve woken up. You feeling okay?”

  Harris nodded. “Where am I?”

  “You’re on a semi-truck. In the trailer. Would you like some eggs or a breakfast sandwich?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Coffee?”

  “That would be great. Just black.”

  “Just so you know, the back of the trailer is locked with two German Granit padlocks. Bulletproof. Resistant to freon spray. They have over 25000 lbs. of tensile strength each. You’re not getting out of here. As long as you understand that and respect us, we’ll treat you the same way.”

  Nathan decided to go to the restroom. It was the regular crowd in the trailer. Chen, Bing, the guy who never talked, and Sasha, were all seated at the desks under the flat screens. He didn’t dare look at the computers, but as he passed the people, they each glanced up and acknowledged him. After he’d used the facilities and washed his hands, he stood in the restroom and stared at himself in the mirror. “What is going on, Harris?” he asked himself. “Who are these people? What do they want from you? Think! There has to be something I’ve said or done ...” He checked out his face a little more closely. His eyes looked tired. And he needed to shave.