The Auctioneer

by D. J. Williams

  “It’s field mobile. Ten times more powerful than an EMP. Range of six miles — surface to air, or deep underground. More than capable of knocking out power, as well as any electronic device, in that area.”

  “Could this weapon be used to lock us out of agency computer systems?”

  “No, sir.” Abbott shook his head. “Cyber attack is most likely an advanced malware, the likes we have never seen before, Mr. President.”

  “Can we locate the electro-disruptor?”

  “Not possible, unless we have boots on the ground.”

  “Who would have access to a weapon like this?”

  “We do, sir.” Abbott pushed a report across the table toward Bouchard. “On page 180, you’ll find these same schematics outlining a proposal for production as part of our DOD contract with RC Engineering.”

  Bouchard’s close relationship with Randall Collinsworth was widely known within Washington’s inner circle, and had been debated by Congress and the Senate when his administration pushed through a multi-billion-dollar defense spending package through the Department of Defense, after Bouchard announced to the world that Abu Haji Fatima was dead.

  “How could this end up in a terrorist’s hands?” Bouchard asked.

  “No one in this room knows whether this individual is a terrorist,” Abbott cautioned. His shoulders broadened, not the least bit intimidated being in the presence of the Commander-in-Chief. “If you know otherwise, now is the time to tell us.”

  “Whoever the hell she is, she’s holding one of our largest cities hostage.” Bouchard was tired of dancing with the General. “I think that qualifies as a terrorist. Now, what I want to know is what’re we going to do about it.”

  “Perhaps we should contact Randall Collinsworth to understand the weapon better — and determine if there is a way to locate it and shut it down.”

  “That’s enough,” Bouchard barked as his blood boiled. Tapping his finger against the thick report he gathered himself. “Even I can see that the power outage and cyber attack on our agencies is being done by the same person. Have you drawn the same conclusion?”

  “It’s possible.” Abbot never flinched. “However, with Mayor Osoria’s actions, that presents more complications in determining our best course of action to respond.”

  Simon Adams opened the door to the situation room and entered. All eyes turned to him as he grabbed a remote from the conference table. He pointed it toward the screen and pressed a button. Everyone watched in silence with news of the stock market being down, and Commonwealth Health Initiative releasing a statement on social media that their EHR system was down — Electronic Health Record — resulting in an immediate halt across hospitals nationwide in medical care.

  “General Abbott,” Bouchard said with gritted teeth. “I’m ordering you to end this standoff.”

  EIGHTY-ONE

  On the road downtown, LAPD officers peeled off every quarter mile to begin evacuating neighborhoods within the blackout area. Nearing Echo Park, a mass exodus of thousands of Angelenos headed down Glendale Boulevard, leaving even the most seasoned officers in reserved silence. It was hard to comprehend — a sight never to be captured in the history books.

  Setting the pace, Laney was anxious to reach the black site but unsure of what they’d find once they got there. With each empty street, abandoned vehicle, and blank stare it seemed as though the perfect plan might never evolve. With every step, she fought an eerie sense that time was running out.

  Armed and ready, LAPD surrounded her as they pressed forward until they were only a few blocks from ground zero. The last group of officers peeled off and left thirty strong to surround the black site — including SWAT and the bomb squad.

  Where were Chase and Dax? Did they take the same route? Were they trying to get inside the black site? Neither knew about Vaughn’s death — no, assassination. She didn’t know if either was trained like she had been to handle hostage scenarios or domestic terror attacks. It didn’t matter, those rules of engagement were left inside the mobile command center at Griffith Park. All she needed was a clean shot, and she’d make it count.

  Six months undercover and her operation imploded the night she hurried down these streets with Chase to find Dax at the garage. Not only did the operation fall apart, so did any thoughts of a future with Chase. She never imagined she’d end up back here still searching for answers. As she shook off that night, she almost didn’t believe her eyes. Headed towards them was a flatbed cart, overflowing with random junk.

  Laney waved and called out, “Margaret, remember me?”

  “I know who you are, missy,” the woman yelled back, seemingly oblivious to the SWAT and bomb squad officers. “I been waiting for your boyfriend — but he ain’t showed.”

  Laney walked over and met Margaret halfway. She asked, a bit confused, “What do you mean you were waiting for him?”

  “Seen him earlier — at breakfast.” Margaret reached inside her layers of clothing, pulled out a photo, then leaned in close and whispered, “He was looking for a woman.”

  Laney recognized the photo of Tama Fatima— the analyst she’d known as Yasmin Avakian. It was hard to accept a terrorist was under her nose, someone she thought of as a friend, a woman who killed Vaughn without a second breath.

  “Where were you supposed to meet?”

  “He said if I found anyone who’d seen the woman to meet him there.” Margaret pointed down the street toward the garage. “A friend saw her yesterday at a liquor store on fifth.”

  A sense of urgency flooded Laney’s veins. “Can you take us there?”

  “Good Lord gave me two legs, didn’t he?”

  The SWAT and bomb squad officers didn’t hide their skepticism. Laney knew it was a long shot, but it was worth checking out, and it was a plan… sort of.

  “Okay, listen up,” Laney ordered. “Half of you take up a position at the black site, the other half goes with me.”

  Shuffling down the sidewalk, Margaret was in no hurry. She insisted on pulling her flatbed herself — saying it was everything she owned. A block south of the black site, they turned down a street and stopped in front of a liquor store that was locked up tight.

  “This is where she was,” Margaret said, matter of fact. “Don’t know why she’s so important to your boyfriend.”

  “She’s very important.” Laney stared into Margaret’s eyes. “Thank you.”

  SWAT monitored the area while the bomb squad spread out. An officer escorted Margaret back to where they’d just come from, to keep her clear of any surprises. Ticktock. Ticktock. Ticktock. It was like searching for the signature of Interpol’s top hacker. Laney waited in front of the liquor store for what seemed an eternity before another officer called out from the second floor of a parking lot.

  Laney and the rest of the team headed upstairs and approached a white van with caution. Two of the officers checked every inch of the van for a trigger or explosive device. Once they gave the thumbs up, Laney moved in closer to get a better look. Peering inside the window she saw the electro-disruptor bolted to the interior.

  One of the officers picked the lock and climbed in through the driver’s side, then opened the sliding door. Tension lightened a bit, knowing there were no explosive devices, but the electro-disruptor still needed to be shut down.

  Laney stood in awe as the bomb squad meticulously studied the control panel and machinery. Using a small screwdriver, one of the officers pulled the digital panel away from the device, revealing a set of colored wires underneath. She expected him to snip one wire and be done.

  “Don’t like how this looks,” he said to the others. “Even though we don’t have Melvin, it’s safer to do a controlled explosion.”

  “Who’s Melvin?” Laney asked.

  “It’s a robot that attaches a charge to the device while we keep clear.”

  “Without Melvin, how do you do it?”

  “Old school.” The officer removed an explosive from his backpack and held it up. “
Better find a place to hide, this’ll leave a mark.”

  Everyone, except for the officer, found cover at the far end of the second floor. Laney crouched next to them as they calmly handled detonating a weapon that had caused such chaos in the city. For the first time in weeks, there was a feeling of hope that this nightmare might be coming to an end.

  The officer set the charge, then pulled the wire as far as it would reach. He glanced back at the others with a smile. Some people get their kicks doing the strangest things — like blowing up a van. Without access to electricity or a remote detonator, the officer lit the wire, then hustled over to where everyone else had ducked low. All eyes were fixed on the wire as a spark crossed the concrete. If it worked, Laney would buy the first round at The Short Stop.

  EIGHTY-TWO

  Slipping out the back of the machine shop, we headed down the alley far enough to cut across the street without being caught by the black site security cameras. Dax tucked the cane into his backpack, leaving it sticking straight up like an antenna. Ducking between buildings, we reached a fence that blocked the homeless from camping out in the LA River.

  “So, your master plan was to go in alone?” I searched for an opening.

  He shrugged as he limped alongside. “Needed to ditch you first.”

  “You’re not exactly a gazelle yet.”

  “I’ll outwork you all day long, bro.”

  Finding a spot where the chain link fence was cut, I pulled it back. “Since you’re so eager…”

  Dax stepped through the gap, replying over his shoulder. “Don’t forget, I’m the one who brought the C4.”

  After he was shot and I saw him bleed out in Elena’s office then hooked up to all the machines that kept him alive, I questioned whether he’d make a full recovery. I’d missed the ribbing, sarcasm, and bantering — usually followed by Dad’s bellowing laughter. It’s what forged us together. No doubt, he had a long way to go physically, but he was as sharp as an auctioneer’s tongue.

  He gripped my arm while we slid down a slanted, graffiti-covered wall. Before we splashed into a steady flow of water gathered from recent rains, we dug our heels into the concrete and stopped our momentum.

  “Where do you think she’s hiding the Rossino Otto?”

  “Really? You’re asking that question now?”

  “Maybe she’ll tell us if we ask nicely.”

  I slapped him on the back. “Give it a shot.”

  Hiking along the basin, we reached the rear of the black site warehouse, which was about twenty feet above us. Climbing the slanted wall, we pushed overgrown shrubs aside, and stood in front of a leveled concrete landing wide enough for a large truck.

  Double checking the blueprint, Dax pointed to a number stamped into the concrete. “It’s a match.”

  “One brick enough?” I asked.

  “We’ll give it a shot.” Dax carefully pressed the C4 against the wall, then rolled out a line long enough to keep us clear of any debris. “We might need the other one if they don’t go quietly.”

  Seconds before Dax burned the flame of his lighter against the line, a blast echoed nearby. We stared at each other wondering what it meant, waited for a cloud of smoke, before figuring we were either too low or the blast wasn’t big enough to reach the sky. Someone blew something up, but there wasn’t time to think about who or what it might be. With any luck, being underground Tama and Kasim would think it was an earthquake and our blast would be an aftershock.

  “Let’s join the party,” Dax said, striking the line.

  With our heads on a swivel, we kept our distance until the charge exploded, sending chunks of concrete flying. When the smoke cleared, we approached a jagged hole in the wall, then crawled over the debris and disappeared inside. Pointing my Sig Sauer ahead, I flipped on the rail mounted flashlight and Dax did the same. The focused beams of light bounced off the walls and the sewage beneath our feet. I imagined being attacked by New York-sized rodents before we had a chance to reach Level 4.

  “Smells like week-old sushi in here,” Dax complained.

  “Keep your head in the game.”

  Thirty yards in front of us we reached the end of the tunnel. Dax pointed his flashlight along the walls until we found an arched entryway that led deeper below ground. My heart thumped as the concrete gradually descended beneath my feet. We were another floor or two underground before we reached a dead end.

  I pointed my light towards Dax, who checked the blueprints one more time.

  “Feels like we’re at the roulette table.” He slapped the C4 charge to the wall.

  “You’ve never played roulette in your life.”

  “You’re right… don’t know where that one came from.”

  For the second time, he lit the wire as we crouched low only feet away. It was impossible to know if the blast would bring this part of the tunnel down, or where we’d end up on Level 4, but we were at a point of no return. One thing for sure, Tama and Kasim would know this one wasn’t shifting tectonic plates.

  Boom!

  We didn’t wait for the dust to settle before moving swiftly forward. Stepping through to the other side with weapons raised, we were in a corridor that was pitch black. We weren’t the only ones — two red lights pointed at our chests.

  “Put your weapons down,” a voice ordered.

  Neither of us budged, and neither of us were shot, so I answered, “The black site is under attack.”

  “Identify yourselves.”

  “Chase Hardeman and Dexter Thompson.”

  “What branch are you with?”

  “You ever seen 24?” Dax lowered his gun and walked towards the red beam. “I’m the original Bauer. So either shoot me right now or help us save the world.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to burst out laughing, or shout, “Hell, yeah.”

  Before the men in the dark answered, the lights blinked on, leaving all four of us standing like sheep looking for a wolf. Slowly, I lowered my weapon and they did the same. No time for formal introductions.

  “There are two suspects.” I walked toward the two guards, both were around our age, but neither had been where we’d been. “Unknown number of hostages. We need to get to the main floor.”

  “Man, we thought we were stuck down here because of a power outage.” He pointed toward a door at the opposite end. “We’re two levels down. Stairs lead up to a door that opens near the computer room.”

  “Perfect.” Dax unzipped his backpack and removed the thumb drive Marcus gave him at Elena’s apartment. “Switch it out and punch in the code.”

  We followed the guards down the corridor, noticing what looked like maximum-security cells to my left. One guard entered a combination on a wall-mounted screen, and the door hissed open.

  “Get on the line and call it in,” I ordered. “Let them know the power is back on and to send the cavalry.”

  Dax and I didn’t wait for either of them to answer. We were already in the stairwell, headed to Level 2. Out of the corner of my eye, Dax moved with purpose, and I knew he was done kidding around.

  EIGHTY-THREE

  My heartbeat pulsed in my temples, breathing steadied, as we searched for the computer room. Once we found it, Dax ducked inside while I guarded the corridor. Being exposed wasn’t ideal. On high alert, my adrenaline and nerves on edge, senses tingling, ready to empty my clip.

  Dax slipped out from the room and whispered, “It’s done.”

  As quickly as he said those words, we heard a man and woman yelling in Arabic. Grabbing Dax by the shoulder, we headed toward the voices, knowing we were closing in. Our steps picked up a beat once we heard other voices screaming and pleading.

  Hostages.

  We reached the end of the corridor leading into the main hub, as Kasim pointed his gun at a woman who was zip-tied. Tama stood near a desk, hovered over a computer, desperate to fix whatever had gone wrong. Malware corrupted.

  Dax and I split up to flank them on both sides. With terror in her eyes, the female hos
tage looked past Kasim directly at us. A dead giveaway. As he turned, Dax fired first, and I followed. Even though the hostages were zip-tied, they scrambled for their lives. Tama spun around wide-eyed. Two more rounds hit Kasim in the chest, sending him to the ground. It’s not like in the movies, where a gunfight plays out over minutes of action-packed drama. When attacking at close quarters, everything happens in a matter of seconds. Dax moved quickly toward Kasim and kicked his weapon aside. Kasim was still breathing, but the gurgling meant it wouldn’t be long before he bled out.

  As we closed in on Tama, she had nowhere to run. My index finger pressed against the trigger, ready to take her life.

  She held up a tablet. “I have nuclear warheads armed and ready!”

  “Can this get any more twisted?” Dax said under his breath.

  Considering she shut down LA and locked out government agencies, it was impossible to know whether she was bluffing. Dax glanced at me, waiting to pull the trigger. I raised my hand and lowered my weapon.

  Noticing a body covered up on the floor, I tried to keep my wits about me. “Power is back on. Agencies are online. There’s no way out of here.”

  “There are more than warheads under my control.” She grabbed a semi-automatic from the desk — cold blooded over losing the love of her life. “You are going with me.”

  A cellphone rang. Tama slipped the semi-automatic over her shoulder and answered. I didn’t need to hear who was on the other end — I already knew.

  “I have it,” she seethed. “Yes… twelve warheads… ten minutes.”

  While she was speaking, hostages moved away from the line of fire and Dax inched closer. Kasim stopped breathing, left to the eternal pain of his depravity. The real threat stood right in front of me — and she held an ace and a king.

  Hanging up, she never lost me in her sights. “Put down your gun.”

  Dax pointed his Sig Sauer at Tama. I was sure any second he’d pull the trigger. His eyes were ablaze, as if this was his last chance to settle a score for what Fatima did to him and the others.