by T C Miller
Banner took the cue from Bart. “If you had a choice, where would you disappear to?”
“Ain’t thought about it none. Florida, or California maybe. Except, I ain’t got nobody there, and I got a girlfriend here. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
“It’s not the end of the world,” Banner replied. “What if I can get you out of this in one piece, line up a place for you to live, and throw in a couple thousand a month for the rest of your life? You can even take your girlfriend with you. Sound good?”
“Yeah, too good to be true.” Randy’s eyes shifted back and forth from Bart to John.
Bart watched the trapped criminal’s facial expression change from fear to determination. He’s fixin’ to do something stupid.
Randy’s hollow gaze moved from Bart to John, and back to Bart. He dropped the canister and lunged toward the pistol on the floor.
Bart launched himself toward the pistol at the same. His long legs and arms gave him an advantage, but he was twice as far from the weapon.
Randy grabbed the gun a split-second before Bart and pulled the trigger.
Bart sensed the pistol coming up and tried to bat it away, but it was too late. The projectile pierced the side of his forehead, and he dropped to the concrete floor.
Marston Ranch Residence
“We don’t keep much money in the house.” Mary Marston’s voice trembled. She didn’t mention the veterinary drugs Doc kept in his office. “I’ll give you everything we have if you’ll leave us alone.”
“Is not what we seek, old woman,” the taller of the two intruders said. “Where are two young women?”
“Who? There are no young women here.”
“Do not be coy with me,” Pyotr snarled. “Two girls and man and woman came here.”
“We haven’t had visitors for a week.” Mary thought of the accident scene Doc went to check out. “My husband went to check on our cattle. He’ll be back any minute.”
“Is good, husband will help look for women.”
Pyotr raised his rifle and Mary thought he was going to hit her with the butt. She brought her arms up to protect her face, flinched, and waited for the blow.
Instead, Pyotr smashed the alarm panel. “No politsiya now.”
Mary exhaled sharply and stepped back. She saw a scrolling news banner at the bottom of the television screen in the living room reporting an explosion thirty miles east of Denver.
The two intruders had their backs to the television and did not see it. They also could not see the security system monitors. Doc and two women were moving across the property toward the hidden cave. She picked up the remote for the security system and turned off the outside cameras.
“What is it you do?”
“Trying to turn up the TV. I never can get this darn remote to work right.”
“Is not TV remote. Here.” Sasha handed her the other remote laying on the island between the two rooms.
“Oh, dear.” Mary feigned confusion. She took the remote and turned up the volume. “I’m no good with this technical stuff. I tell my husband he can’t die before me, otherwise, who will take care of the electronics?”
A middle-aged news anchor with a bad toupee read from a printout, “Authorities caution Denverites to avoid traveling east on I-70 for the time being. They advise taking an alternate route since the freeway will be closed for a week or longer. Furthermore, residents of the Front Range should refrain from outdoor
activities until air quality tests are conducted.”
The anchor took a drink of water and cleared his throat. “To recap, there are unofficial reports of a massive explosion a little over two hours ago on the plains east of Denver, followed by an earthquake in the 7.0 range, or higher.
“The environmental group Stop the Madness says their claims of poorly regulated fuel transmission lines have been validated. The group has scheduled protests at the state capitol for tomorrow at noon, despite
warnings to stay indoors.”
“What is happening?” Sasha asked.
“Is no concern to us.” Pyotr snapped back.
“Do you not hear? It says Deer Trail, where we were….”
“Quiet, imbecile.”
“I am not imbecile, I am curious.”
“You would be wise to control curiosity. Do not act like fool.”
“I am equal member of team, do not call me fool,” Sasha’s voice trembled. “I am leader.”
“In name only.”
Mary hid her amusement at the adolescent bickering. She hoped they would become so engrossed in childish behavior she could escape.
Unfortunately, the argument petered out as quickly as it began. Still, it bought time for Doc to work his way down the tunnel into the house.
Doc entered a password into the security terminal, and it sprang to life. It showed six interior views of the house on one screen, but the view of the kitchen got his attention, and he expanded it.
Mary stood talking to two men in their twenties. Her body language resembled a mare whose pen had been invaded.
He watched as her eyes repeatedly looked around the men toward the living room. He switched to the living room camera and saw the TV crawl declare a major emergency near Denver.
Licia peered over his shoulder and whispered, “What’s going on?”
“Not sure, but it looks like a disaster east of Denver. They’re evacuating a huge area, and victims are pouring into medical facilities with burns.”
“Grass fire?”
“Reports of the injuries say they appear to be from exposure to radiation.”
“Rocky Flats is near Denver.”
Star leaned over Doc’s other shoulder. “What’s
Rocky Flats?”
“A nuclear weapons plant.”
“Whoa, are you serious?”
Doc shook his head. “Except Rocky Flats is west and a little south of Denver. Doesn’t explain massive radioactivity east of Denver, even with a strong downslope wind.”
Licia nodded in agreement. “True, but what about weapons in transit? They do ship them, don’t they?”
“Accidents are unheard of, according to a briefing I got at a veterinary conference in Albuquerque a few years ago. Nuclear material is shipped in lead-lined, shockproof crates to keep radiation in if there’s an accident.”
“So where did the explosion come from?” “Undetermined, but it doesn’t matter, at least for the time being. The immediate threat is the two men inside my house. I need to rescue Mary before something happens to her.”
“Slow down a little there, Doc,” Licia said in a firm voice. “Might not be a good idea to rush in without backup. She doesn’t seem to be in any immediate danger, and the perps look like they’re waiting for someone to arrive.”
“Me, more than likely. I talked to Mary when I got to the spot where you were attacked. I assume the two men inside are connected to the snipers. She probably told them I could help with whatever they’re looking for.”
“Or whom.”
Star squeezed in between them. “Hey, guys, I need a restroom.”
“Soon,” Licia replied.
***
Chapter Eleven
HVAC Room, NSA Headquarters
Frank stood stock-still and shook like a quaking aspen tree. Banner recognized Randy as the primary threat. He yanked Bart’s 1911 from the telephone switch box and fired two rounds in quick succession into Randy’s chest. Randy gasped and fell mortally wounded across Bart’s crumpled figure.
Banner turned the powerful weapon on Frank. “You want to join him in hell?”
“N…n…no, sir.”
“Then turn around and put your hands on the wall. Higher, and spread your feet.”
Frank quietly sobbed and shuddered from head-to-toe as a wet stain darkened his pants and a puddle formed at his feet. “I ain’t r…ready to d…die.”
Two members of NSA’s Executive Security Detail pushed their way into the room. They wore dark suits with pla
in white shirts and dark, one-color ties. Coiled earpieces led to belt radios. Identical American flag pins in their lapels identified them as members of the elite corps.
Lead agent Chuck Doolen spoke into his radio mike, “Affirmative, Control, we need EMTs here ASAP. Also, alert Chopper One they’ve got a patient for the Naval Hospital in Bethesda, STAT.”
“About time you got here, Doolen.”
“Sorry, Boss…didn’t expect an attack from inside the building.”
“Make a note in the after-action report.”
“Affirmative,” Doolen replied as he retrieved a set of handcuffs from a leather pouch on his belt.
John Banner reached for the restraints. “I’ll do that.”
“Yes, sir.” Doolen turned to the other agent. “Lee, would you handcuff the other guy? I don’t want to touch his sorry butt.”
“He looks dead, sir.”
“I’m sure he is, Skippy, but we still follow protocol that says to cuff suspects until a doctor declares them dead.”
“Yes, sir.” Lee squatted next to Randy’s body and looked up at Doolen. “Can I move him off the Assistant Director?”
“Only enough to let him breathe. We also need Forensics up here ASAP to document the scene. I’ll send for a HAZMAT team, too, since the cylinder contains an unknown substance.”
John Banner made a mental note of the agents’ flawless performance. “Make sure you get checked out by EMTs. In fact, we need blood samples from everyone here. We may have been exposed to whatever this idiot was trying to spread. In today’s
world, you never can tell.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Doolen replied.
“Hey, wh…wh…what about me?”
Doolen stared at Frank and glanced at the Director before answering, “Yeah, I guess we should have you checked out, too.”
“I…d…do have r…rights, t…too, d…don’t I?”
“Yes, even scumbags have rights.”
Two EMTs in white uniforms carrying medical packs attempted to squeeze into the closet-sized room. One recognized John Banner. “Excuse me, Director, but we need room to work.”
“Certainly.” John grabbed Frank’s arm and pushed him toward the door. “Agent Doolen, would you have your assistant take him down to a holding cell? I’ll be down to your office to give a statement as soon as I clear up a few things.”
“I’ll take the report in your office, Director.”
“Ops manual says NSA employees should report to Security to give statements about breaches that include traumatic injuries or gunshots.”
“True, Director, but the keywords are should and report. You have the agency to direct, so I’ll take the statement in your office while you work, with your permission of course.”
“Works for me.”
They squeezed past a gurney, and John headed for his office with Doolen in tow. This was turning out to be the worst day for him since Walter was shot. Only now he didn’t have Bart Winfield to lean on. He turned into the vestibule for his office. “Marge, with me now, please. Would you wait in the outer office,
Chuck?”
“Yes, Director, whatever you say.”
Ravine Near Marston Ranch
Jake lay on the icy ground above the ravine as five armed men below made their way toward the Marston home. They paused at the split in the trail.
The leader directed two of them to go right, and the other two followed him to the left.
Jake waited for the first two to pass and dropped quietly to the trail. He drew a blade from his boot and hurled it at the neck of the last man, who had fallen behind the others. The hapless criminal clutched at the razor-sharp knife and dropped silently to the frozen turf, unable to cry out. His teammates didn’t hear his choking sounds over the howling wind and continued their trek.
Wind-driven snow funneled into the ravine and reduced visibility to less than ten feet. Jake moved up the hill toward the other two. He intended to eliminate all threats to the girls he protected.
Jake used his hobbies of rock-climbing and running to quickly overtake the other two mercenaries. He waited above the trail until they rounded a sharp curve and dropped down behind them.
The closest man spun around holding a TEC-9 automatic pistol at waist level. He didn’t get a chance to pull the trigger before Jake deflected the barrel of the weapon and twisted it out of his hand using a jujitsu technique. Jake slammed the butt of the weapon into the man’s throat and moved behind to use him as a shield.
The other mercenary raised his suppressed weapon and swayed back and forth like a viper as he tried to get a clear shot at Jake. Frustration got the best of him and he fired two rounds into the mercenary Jake was using as a shield.
The man slumped forward, fatally wounded. Jake dropped him, pulled a knife from his other boot, and threw it in one continuous move. It buried itself to the hilt in the bad guy's forehead. He dropped to his knees and did a face-plant on the frozen trail.
Jake checked both men and found no pulse. He removed a tactical radio from the second man’s belt and listened. Jake’s Russian was rusty, but it was clear from the tone of the voice on the other end he was demanding a response. Jake stuffed the radio in a pocket of his parka and ran toward the two remaining Russians.
Ivan became leader of the mercenary crew through a centuries-old tradition of defeating every last man in no-holds-barred, hand-to-hand combat, and left them with lifetime scars to record their defeat.
He was barely five-and-a-half-foot tall, but his Mongol heritage gave him the true spirit of a warrior. He supplemented his natural abilities with intense training in a wide spectrum of combat skills that stretched back to his childhood. He commanded the respect and fear of the men who worked for him.
“Where is Maksim?” he demanded.
Sergei shrugged his shoulders. “He follows behind…”
“I do not ask where he was before. Where is he now?”
Sergei stammered, “I do not know, Bocc. Should I go back and search for him?”
“I do not want to delay, but I may hear gunshots. We must go assist our comrade.”
The two men traveled back a hundred yards when Jake dropped from the hillside above. The startled Sergei froze in place and paid for the indecision with a knife to the heart. He died before he hit the rocky trail.
Ivan raised his weapon, but Jake pushed the barrel aside and tore the rifle from the Russian’s hands. Ivan fumbled for a pistol on his belt but his cold-numbed fingers didn’t get it out of the holster before Jake smashed the rifle butt into his face. The stunned Cossack stumbled back with his bloody face cradled in both hands.
Jake stripped Ivan of the pistol and half-a-dozen other weapons. “How many more men, and where are they?”
Ivan offered a sullen look in reply as Jake handcuffed his hands behind his back. “At the risk of sounding like a cheap action movie, I will get the information I need, and you’re a dead man if I don’t.”
Ivan stared at him. “I am dead man if you do.”
Jake fell back on the advice he learned in countless hostage negotiation seminars to start a dialogue.
“What is your name?”
“It does not matter.”
“It matters to me. I’m Jake Thomas.”
The Mongol sighed. “I am Ivan Doroshenko.”
“Cossack?”
“Da.”
“I’ve read about your ancestors. They were fierce warriors.”
“They would be ashamed of my capture. I should die fighting.”
“It can still happen, but why?”
“My partner will insist I die to serve as example.”
“We can move you to a safe place.”
“Impossible, he has eyes everywhere.”
“We’ll set you up with a secret identity and income. We will also report you were killed during a gun battle. I doubt your boss will ask for the body.”
The cossack studied Jake with suspicion. “I will be safe? Of this, you can be sure?
”
“There are no guarantees in this business, but your chances are better with us.”
“What you say is true. He will say you turn me to your side, and pay much to ensure my death is long and painful.”
“Like I said, we can protect you.”
Ivan stood silently watching large flakes of wind-driven snow cascade down and stick to the two men. It reminded him of riding his stout pony across the steppes when he was a child. He raised his head toward the dark sky as if praying for divine guidance.
“What is it you want?”
“For a start, who you work for.”
Ivan cleared his throat and forced the words out, “My partner has many names, but most often is Gregori Yancy.”
“You’re telling me a Russian smuggler is still after the two girls?”
“Da, Martinez has information Yancy needs.”
“How can a teenage girl could be so valuable to him?”
“Her father was bookkeeper. Yancy says father hid account numbers in belongings of girl.”
“Account numbers?”
“Da, to hundreds of millions in secret overseas accounts under different names.”
“How do you know that?”
“Yancy tells me. I am partner.”
“Then why are you out here doing the grunt work?”
“To command assault team.”
“He ordered it? Sounds like he wants to get rid of you.”
“This may be true.” Ivan paused again and, looked down at the ground. “Men who work for him often meet death. Yancy has other secrets I can tell you, but I must be paid well.”
Jake stared at the other man and thought how he too might have taken the mercenary path. Would he have betrayed an employer? Probably not. Although by definition, a mercenary works for the highest bidder, Jake’s sense of loyalty would get in the way.
“You’re getting ahead of me, Ivan. I can’t promise anything until I talk to my bosses.”
“Is okay, but I must provide for family. You understand, yes?”
“I might feel the same way in your shoes. On the other hand, why should I trust you? You are in a desperate situation.”
“Is true. You must have faith.”