Torching the Crimson Flag

by Conrad Brasso

  The hundred-and-twenty-foot Salacia V was built in Italy and exquisitely detailed. She could luxuriously accommodate nine guests in four en suite cabins, including a master stateroom, a double cabin, and two twins. It also had berths for a captain and up to five crew in an additional three tiny cabins. With dark-stained Cyprus wood paneling, mirrored wardrobes, custom-built furniture, and opulent gold fittings throughout, the entire boat delivered a mood of luxury and poise. The main deck featured a salon with a large dining table, a lounge area with comfortable sofas, and a state-of-the-art entertainment system, including two retractable widescreen TVs. Just below, the chef’s galley was bright and perfectly laid out with the latest in marine appliances. Salacia V’s outside areas were large with plenty of room to sunbathe and lounge. Glass doors between the saloon and aft deck could be closed during storms or for safety or opened to create a seamless space that bridged the exquisite inside with any oceanic outside. And the yacht's sleek exterior profile was complemented with matching speed credentials. Twin MTU 16V2000 M94 engines meant that she was capable of reaching a top speed of 36 knots or cruise comfortably at 32 knots.

  Young Matteo had never seen anything like this highly polished boat. Everywhere he turned, there was luxury and refined Italian styling of the sort that he had never imagined existed. Helped by the fact that it was late at night, the perfectly placed lighting inside the yacht made everything sparkle and shine. Tala and her son were taken to the suite with a double bed.

  “We’ll be on this boat for a couple of days, sailing out tonight,” the squad leader informed her. “Take some time to clean up and then relax. You have your own shower, and in the top drawer of the mirror dresser, there are new clothes for you and your boy, including swimwear. Snacks are in a covered basket in your linen closet, and there’s a little fridge there, too. Tomorrow morning, I’ll send someone to show you around the rest of the boat and bring you both to the dining area for breakfast.”

  “Where can I leave my things?” she asked, clinging to her box.

  “Here. In your room. Put your box in a drawer or something. It will be safe. It’s just you, Matteo, my team, and a two-member cabin crew.”

  “Where are you taking us?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough, Tala. I don’t want you to worry about that now. When you come to breakfast, please bring your passports with you. We’ll need to make copies of them and send them ahead to the port authorities.”

  “Where are you from? You’re not American, I can tell by your accent.”

  “I was born in Holland, but it’s not where I live now.”

  Tala decided not to push for more answers, but she did need to say something and get it off her chest. “I don’t know why you did it, but I’m glad you did.”

  “I’m just following orders.”

  “I know. I can tell. But still, Mako was a monster, and he’s dead now. I’m not the only one you rescued today.”

  “Get some rest, okay? If you sleep in, that’s not a problem. You have no set schedule tomorrow.”

  After he’d left, Matteo leaped onto his bed and started jumping up and down excitedly.

  “Matteo!” she pleaded, but then realized, she didn’t care. He could jump if he wanted to.

  She carefully placed her box in the bottom drawer of the dresser and couldn’t resist trying out the new clothes in the drawer above it. When she went to check out the head, there was a makeup kit, toiletries, towels and a set of robes. Tala decided she would get Matteo to eat, bathe, and then lay down. When he was asleep, she’d take a long hot shower and then go to bed herself. She walked over to the door and saw that there was a deadbolt she could slide across, securing their room, so she did.

  Invisible from the road, Gary Jonston had neatly landed the chopper behind a wall of trees in a clearing. On the short flight over, the team had changed out of their combat fatigues and into tactical civilian clothing. They moved their weapons and gear from duffle bags into backpacks. Bruce jogged across the street to the strip-mall parking lot and caught up with the Alamo employee who was stressing about how this was, “not normally how we do things. We don’t usually drop off the vehicle.” Agent Locke assured him that everything would be alright, and after the guy left, Trey and Tank jogged across the street and joined him. David and Gary decided they would stay with the chopper.

  The three operators threw their kits into the back of the BMW X3 and climbed inside.

  “Hemlock to LP.”

  “Loud and clear. This is LP,” Justin answered.

  “I hope you have a plan that doesn’t include checking every single trailer in a ten-mile radius.”

  “Roger that. We’ve secured a thermal imaging satellite and are doing a scan of the area. It's going to take about half an hour to render, but it should give us thermal images of any person or persons that are in the back of a truck trailer.”

  “That's a great idea.”

  “It might not be perfect. The delay in rendering time means we could miss them. But at least we’d only be thirty minutes behind, and we should be able to track them with our satellites, now. One of the reasons why Dusti lost them is because she only had access to traffic cams. We’ll be able to paint our target and follow them wherever they go.”

  “Copy that. How can we prepare?”

  “If you haven't already, memorize the map, so you know which zone to go to. California will be the farthest west, Church will be Temple Church on Kingdom Way, and Lawson will be Lawson Creek Park. Those are the three biggest areas where these trucks are congregating. I’ll name the zone and then include specific satellite coordinates.”

  “Copy that,” Bruce answered, looking at the map as Justin was talking.

  “Gentlemen, our primary objective is Iris,” Leo instructed Blue Team. “We don’t give a damn about anything else. Lethal force is authorized, and you don’t have to worry about cleaning up collateral damage. Get in, rescue him, and get out. Use indirect fire assets for distractions if you need to. Harassment fire is authorized if necessary to create chaos for a safe exit. The FBI is mobilizing to that region over the next five hours—as well as Secret Service. There’ll be plenty of available personnel to collect intel, clean up, and do public relations.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Who’s point?”

  “Bruce,” Tank answered, knowing that Leo understood this team’s fluidity. This wasn’t like a traditional squad where positions were fixed; all the operators in LauchPad moved in and out of leadership as the scenario dictated. He was just going through a checklist in his mind. Bruce had tactical training in communications and was probably the best run-and-gunner in the team. Tank’s intuition always provided for solid leadership when he was a part of small assault squads. He also had experience in explosives and breaching – something this team might have to do when they reached the trailer.

  “Good. Approach strategies?” Leonard knew the situation was extremely difficult from a tactical standpoint. Not only did the team need to face a hostage rescue, already a very challenging scenario, but they were essentially surrounded by civilians.

  “Yes, sir. We’re dialed in.”

  “Questions?”

  “Just one. When did the scan start?” Bruce asked.

  “Sixteen minutes ago. We should have a location for you in under twenty Mikes.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Good luck, Blue Team. Out.” Leo said, ending the comms.

  “You guys hungry?” Trey asked.

  “Affirmative,” Bruce answered. “When we were landing, I saw a hotdog place half a block from here.”

  “Perfect. Let’s get something for David and Gary, too. I’ll run it over to them.”

  They knew that Justin had included MRE’s in their kits, but they’d decided to save the food rations in case they needed them later.

  Back at LaunchPad, Leonard was pacing around in the conference room. Justin had moved into the desk area with Saara to coordinate the thermal satellite imaging with her
security protocol software and comms. While he was setting everything up, Boyd Carter sent a text message to him and Leonard.

  HNL bound.

  “Agent Carter’s on her way to Honolulu,” he told Saara.

  “Does she know that Michi’s going to be there in less than two hours?”

  “No. Dr. Stone wants Imada to complete her mission, first.”

  “Okay.”

  “Thermal results are starting to show.”

  Nathan looked around the area of the trailer he was in. It was very plain and made up about a quarter of the total space. He remembered translating for a meeting between the Vice President and a trailer building company from Mexico City about four years ago. The semi-trailer he was sitting in was called a van, in the trucker world. It had a closed-in compartment for transporting cargo that needed protection from the elements. To make the coupler plate, the part that attaches the van to the truck-cab, the builders would have submerged steel plates in water and used computer-guided plasma cutters. The powerful torch ejected hot gas at high pressure, slicing through the metal with detailed precision. Pre-painted aluminum panels were riveted onto aluminum or steel support posts, the same way drywall goes onto two -by -fours in house construction. The thin, lightweight panels were the van’s exterior walls, and it looked like this one had interior walls that were made up of drywall, most likely installed over a thin padding of insulation.

  He looked up and could tell they’d used aluminum roofing on this trailer. Sometimes, factories used a fiberglass composite that allowed light from the outside to filter through. He couldn’t see it now, but the chassis of the trailer probably had two main beams running the length of the flatbed. A semi-automatic robot would have welded the sections that made up each beam, while a human worker would’ve inspected the joints and removed welding residue before positioning the two main beams side by side, and inserting steel cross members through them to support the floor. In this trailer, the floor was made of laminated hardwood, screwed directly onto the steel beams. He knew that the average semi-trailer weighed between five and six metric tons and could haul up to five times its weight.

  The couch he was sitting on had also been securely bolted to the floor, and there was a small wooden table across from him that had been secured to the wall. The only other thing in his section of the truck was the single LED light bulb hanging above him.

  He couldn’t see any cameras watching him, so Nathan decided to risk a peep at the others. He steadied himself against the wall with his shoulder and used his forefinger to carefully part the curtain away from it. Sasha was still working on her computer. Chen was sitting in a wooden chair and checking his phone. Bing was reading a book, and the guy who never talked was lying on a floor mat, sound asleep.

  Dr. Harris thought it was kind of ironic that when he was free, he had been surrounded by such a high level of security. Now that he was kidnapped, his guards seemed very lax. Suddenly, Sasha stood up and started walking towards the kitchen. He dove onto the couch just as she opened the curtain. She didn’t seem to notice that he was sitting a little awkwardly.

  “Chen!” she called.

  He looked up from his phone.

  “Just got the notice. We’re supposed to get started.” As she spoke, the truck began compressing air into its brake chamber, and the big rig began to slow down, eventually coming to a complete stop.

  Chen kicked the guy on the floor. “Go time!”

  The man who never spoke sat up and stretched.

  Bing stood and turned to look at Harris. “You ready?”

  “I don’t know,” Nathan confessed. “I’m still not sure why I’m here.”

  “You’re very important, Dr. Harris,” said Sasha. “For over five years, a group of people has been working on a project that involves you.”

  “Why, me?”

  “Because we knew that nothing was going to happen to you. You were the most protected multi-lingual speaker on the planet and very uniquely under the radar.”

  “I’m not aware of any project.”

  “No. You wouldn’t be.”

  There was a loud knock at the back of the truck, as someone used the open palm of their hand to slap a pre-agreed rhythm on the door.

  “Nathan, come to the back of the trailer, please,” Chen said, handing him the black headcovering. “Put this on.”

  Harris obeyed, feeling more nervous than he’d felt so far. He heard the back doors open and then an intermittent set of beeping sounds and a gas-powered engine. His mind ran through the possibilities and decided it was a forklift. He heard the back door slam shut again and then almost fell over when the truck started moving again. Someone reached out and steadied him. As the truck continued to drive, he heard the sound of an impact driver doing something, either drilling or being used as a screwdriver. The person next to him tugged on his sleeve and placed a hand on his back. “Sit down. It’s Bing’s office chair,” Chen said. “You’ll be safer, seated. We’re almost in position.”

  Nathan thought about what he could have meant and drew a blank. They drove for another ten minutes before Harris sensed the truck was coming to a stop, again. He heard the air move through the brake lines and force out the pushrod. The camshaft turned and twisted the S-Cam, forcing the brake linings to contact the brake drum, and the semi-truck floated to a stop.

  “In position,” Bing said. “The perimeter is set. We’re ready to start. Boss wants to know if you’re ready, Sasha.”

  “I’ll need about five more minutes to sync everything, and then, yes, we’ll be prepared to get started.

  Chen reached over and pulled the covering off Nathan’s head. Sitting in front of him was something that looked like a dentist’s chair, massage chair, and a La-Z-Boy recliner, all mixed into one. Beside it was a table full of digital tools and scanners of various types. Sasha sat next to all of it, working on her computer.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In the last few decades, the landscape of communication between strategic command centers and elite special operators has shifted. In order to deal with modern unconventional warfare, LaunchPad had had many theoretical discussions about leadership and authority in the field, discussions that had resulted in adaptation and improvement. One of the adaptations was to let Leonard give more leeway. Leonard Stone was famous for his strategic mind and a gut feeling for the right direction that had been proven over and over. He wasn't the kind of leader who was threatened by other Alphas in the room. The more ideas that were thrown into the mix, the better he felt about making a directional decision. Having Blue Team in the field didn't mean that suddenly he was going to sit down and start ordering them around. That kind of micromanagement had probably caused more deaths over the years than saved lives. He had complete confidence in Trey, Tank, and Bruce. His friend David was someone whom he had known for decades. And if David liked Gary, then the helicopter pilot was not only good at his job, but he understood the covert nature of what this group of operators did.

  Leo saw the LaunchPad crew who weren’t field operators as being people who could help provide critical information for the team while it was in the field. Justin and Saara made an exceptional pair. Saara was extraordinarily good at writing code, coordinating satellite data and creating secure protocols. In addition to his ability to prepare weaponry for field teams, Justin had natural gifting for technology. Working alongside Saara, he was able to learn a lot and take things that he’d learned a step further as he applied them. Privately, Ms. Tuurig had told Leo that she was truly impressed with how quickly Park understood concepts and put them to practice right away.

  Leo stared at the satellite footage of all of the trucks. But as he watched them crawl around like large pieces of rice on the monitor screen, he felt that something wasn’t quite right. He stood up and tapped on the conference room wall, getting the attention of Bora, who turned to look at him. Motioning her inside, he went back and sat down.

  “Dr. Stone, did you need something?”

 
“Yes. Bora, can you work out of the conference room for the next while? I need your help thinking things through.”

  She went to the lounge room and then stopped by the office, collecting her things and came back in. It took her a few minutes to set her things up, but after she did, Leo wanted to speak with her.

  “I feel like we’re missing something,” he started out. “Let’s briefly put this down on paper. Forgive me, but I’m a little old school this way.”

  She smiled, “No problem. Let me help you with that.”

  Together, they rolled out a long piece of paper on the table, and Leonard produced a black Sharpie pen. As they talked, he jotted things down and drew circles around the main points.

  “Harris gets kidnapped,” he said, thinking out loud. “It was violent. The people who took him were professionals. They left nothing behind that could be traced to them. And they eviscerated a very high-quality security team made up of talented Secret Service members.”

  “It was very carefully planned,” added Bora.

  “Yes! Careful planning. We have the video of them coming into the Russian embassy parking garage and moving Nathan into a different vehicle.” He paused, then said, “But who are they? We can't really see them on the video. We stopped focusing on them because our eyes were rightfully on Harris.”

  “Well, we know they were Russian. Remember what David said that Sokolov told him? He said that the van that arrived at the embassy gate had three Russians inside, and one person they claimed was in duress. The embassy guards were ordered to let them in.”

  “You’re right, Bora. I hadn’t put that together. They were Russians and were ruthless professionals. And the man that was under duress was Nathan Harris. And they had been ordered to be let into the embassy.”

  She nodded.

  “We know the kill team that was put on Fox was not very skilled. A highly professional team would’ve never been spotted as following them. They would’ve had a better plan for what to do when Fox exited the freeway, got back on, and then exited again.”