BlackStar Enigma

by T C Miller

  “So we sacrifice her in the name of national security?”

  “Hardly. In fact, finding Joanna is our number one priority.”

  Jake chose his words carefully. “Because finding her means we find Yancy and, therefore, the nukes, right?”

  “That’s the idea. I planned Bart’s assignment here as temporary, but my strategy is evolving in light of what’s happened. He’s not out of the woods by a long shot, and I’ll need him here long after he recovers.

  “Bart will shepherd top priority initiatives for me that include building a profile of the Consortium and working on a plan to carry the agency into the next century. Intel often changes due to things like political upheavals and cheaper computing, and we need to prepare ourselves. With that in mind, I need you to step up and take over the work of the BlackStar Ops Group.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best to continue the work Bart has done, and hopefully, he’ll return to work soon. Speaking of cheaper computers, I spend a lot of time studying them. The time is near when we’ll be dead in the water without them.”

  “I agree, and that’s another reason you fit into the Team Leader Position so well. We need insightful leaders to take us into the future. I want you to inject new energy into team policies and procedures. I won’t even mind if you stretch the rules a little, as long as I don’t get burned too much by the Senate Intelligence

  Oversight Committee.”

  “Yes, sir, anything else?”

  “Keep in mind while you’re pursuing Yancy, the Consortium is lurking in the background. They’re behind what’s going on, or support the players who are. We need to figure out how Gregori Yancy fits into their scheme.”

  “What’s our endgame?”

  “In no special order, we need to recover the stolen nukes and BlackStar system, rescue Joanna, capture

  Yancy, and eliminate the Consortium.” Jake smiled. “Is that all?”

  “Did I mention saving the world?”

  Bethesda Naval Hospital Executive ICU

  Carl Dean tapped lightly on the door with his knuckles, and Nora Winfield peeked out.

  “How’s the colonel doing?” Carl asked in a quiet voice.

  “No change, which is a good thing.”

  Nora hugged a hospital robe around herself as she stepped out of the room. Her shoulder-length auburn hair was in disarray, and her clothes were wrinkled. She wore no makeup and bags had formed under her eyes. “I must look terrible.”

  “No, ma’am, I mean yes if you say so. Director sent me over to give you a break until a larger security detail gets here. Says he figured you might like to go home to freshen up and get a little real sleep for a change.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m reluctant to leave Bart, even with a guard on the door. Doctors say it could be days before they bring him out of this coma.”

  “Which the Director says is even more reason for you to take care of yourself. Wish I could have taken a bullet for the colonel. I owe him my life.”

  Nora looked down at the floor, then back up at Carl and sighed. “I think I’ll take the Director up on his offer since good security is here. A few hours at home might improve my disposition. At the very least, I’ll look and smell better. Let me grab my car keys….”

  “No need, the Director sent a car full of security to take you home. They’ll stay till you’re ready to come back.”

  “Bless his little heart, the Director cares about his people. I still need my purse, though. It has my duty weapon in it.”

  “I might not see you and the colonel for a while.

  I’m going back to FE Warren with Jake.”

  “Why?”

  “The Director is transferring me to Bart, I mean, Jake’s team, while you concentrate on the colonel.

  Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thanks, Carl.”

  Nora turned and went back into the room.

  “That’s one tough lady,” Carl said. The guard at the door nodded.

  Jake stood next to Bart’s bed talking with Nora. “I couldn’t come this close and not stop by to see you and Bart. I know you’re going to make a quick trip to your condo while Carl and his team watch over Bart, and I don’t want to get in the way, so I’ll only stay for a minute.”

  “It’s good to see you. Stay as long as you like, in fact, you can stay at the condo tonight if you want. I’ll be here, which means you’ll have it all to yourself.”

  “Appreciate the offer, but I need to get back to FE

  Warren to continue the hunt for Yancy.”

  “It never ends, does it?”

  “Not until things are back to the way they should be.”

  “That could be a long time.”

  A tall, dark-haired orderly in whites pushed a laundry cart off an elevator down the hall in the Executive Wing ICU and paused to let a guard check the security pass hanging from a lanyard around his neck.

  The guard nodded, and the orderly continued down the corridor toward the patient care suites. He waved at a nurse sitting behind a chest-high counter entering data into a computer.

  She waved without looking up and continued typing.

  The orderly whistled “Put On A Happy Face” as he strolled casually toward the room where Bart Winfield was in a coma.

  Carl Dean took note of the orderly, pointed him out to the armed guard at the door to Bart’s room, and stepped inside to ask Nora to hurry. “Excuse me, ma’am, but we need to move alo….”

  He was interrupted by three popping sounds and the unmistakable thud of a body hitting the floor. Carl might be new to intel, but his background in law enforcement kicked in. He spun around to face the closed door behind him as drew an M1911A1 from a leather Bianchi shoulder rig.

  A startled Nora stood on the other side of the hospital bed kissing Bart’s forehead. Her protective instinct and training also kicked in as she reached into her purse for a Beretta 9mm pistol.

  Jake drew his M1911A and turned around to face the door to the hall.

  Nora hit the light switch at the head of the bed, and the room darkened. Orange and green readouts from machines monitoring Bart’s vital signs cast eerie glows on the walls and ceiling. Nora crouched down to use the hospital bed for cover as Bart restlessly slept, oblivious to the action around him.

  A solid kick on the door sent a spray of gypsum and paint chips flying inward as it crashed against the wall. Bright lights in the hall silhouetted the orderly standing in the doorway in a wide shooting stance. He held an UZI machine pistol waist-high and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room.

  “Federal agent, drop your weapon,” Carl shouted as he stepped between the door and the prone figure on the hospital bed.

  A burst of rounds from the assassin caught Carl in the chest. They threw Carl’s aim off and the first round he returned missed by a few inches. He corrected his aim, and the next three rounds stitched a line on the assassin from his chest to the center of his forehead.

  At the same time, a grouping of three 9mm rounds from Nora’s weapon struck the attacker in the chest and throat.

  Jake’s 1911 made bigger holes in the same area as Nora’s rounds. The assassin died before he hit the floor.

  Jake kicked the weapon away from the assassin and said, “You picked a bad day to try to kill somebody.”

  Nora knelt beside Carl, who lay crumpled on the floor. “Carl, are you okay? Speak to me, please.”

  A nurse peeked around the doorway through a cloud of smoke and haze. “Is it safe to come in?”

  “Yes,” Jake replied. “But first, please check the guard in the hall.”

  “He didn’t make it,” the nurse replied.

  Nora leaned over Carl and checked his neck for a pulse.

  Carl gasped, and his eyes flew open in a startled look. He moaned but said nothing.

  “Don’t you die on me, Bill, uh, Carl,” Nora ordered, as tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Tr…trying not to…Ma’am.” He
struggled with the words. “B…breath…knocked out.”

  “At least two rounds hit you center mass.”

  “Three…Second Chance…and a ballistic plate.”

  “Second Chance?” the young nurse inquired as she knelt next to the assassin.

  “Soft body armor,” Nora explained. “Under his shirt.”

  Nurse Ruth Snell, according to her name tag, moved over to Carl and ripped open his bullet-hole peppered shirt to reveal a stiff white undergarment. “Would you look at that, hardly a scratch.”

  “No, but solid impact,” Carl mumbled. “I’ll have bruises tomorrow. How’s the guard?”

  “Not so lucky. Headshot…nothing I could do,” Ruth said in a sorrowful voice. “Sorry to hear that.” “Same here,” Nora added.

  “This is now a Federal Crime Scene,” Jake declared. “We’ll get a team over here to start an investigation and track down who hired him. How’s the gunman?”

  “A doctor has to declare him dead for the record, but don’t worry, you three filled him with enough bullets to kill three people.”

  “The coward deserved to die,” Nora said.

  “Carl literally took a bullet for Bart, Director. Actually, he took three. He’s okay, thanks to body armor, and so is Bart,” Nora spoke into the phone.

  “I’m not surprised Carl did it. He thinks the world of your husband,” John Banner replied. “How’s Jake, and how are you?”

  “Just another day in intel paradise. What’s our next move, Boss?”

  “Jake will return to FE Warren to direct the hunt for Yancy. Won’t be sure until I sift through a few more things, but I don’t think Yancy ordered the attack on Bart. It has a different feel…more like the

  Consortium.”

  “I think the same thing, John.”

  “I canceled Carl’s transfer to the BSOG for now. He needs to stay here as Bart’s personal security, not to mention yours. I have a feeling the people who ordered the hit won’t stop with one attempt….”

  “You mean three, don’t you? The gas attack at the office may have been meant for him and you, as well. Not to mention the attack on Cheyenne Mountain.”

  “True. Either way, we need to stop their plan dead in its tracks. I’ll have Bart moved to a safe house as soon as the doctors approve it. In the meantime, I’m sending four guards over to supplement you and Carl. We’re doubling his security twenty-four-seven, from now on. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to call

  Jacob’s widow.”

  “Jacob?”

  “The guard in the hall.”

  ***

  Chapter Fifteen

  Secure Tarmac, Andrews AFB, Maryland

  Bob Onkst stood next to the sleek, black, Learjet 35 and watched the pilots do their preflight check. Bill Bennett, was a replacement for Stan Horton, one of their most experienced plane drivers. “I told him not to eat at that new seafood restaurant,” Bob said.

  “I guess the free meals for aircrew thing got him, and he figured he should take advantage of it,” Bennett replied.

  “And now he’s paying for it.”

  Bennett nodded and returned to the checklist.

  Onkst watched Jake Thomas walk across the tarmac from the hangar. “Where’s Carl Dean? I thought he was going back with you.”

  “Not this time, Uncle Bob. Director has other plans for him.”

  Onkst’s cell phone rang, and he held up a finger to Jake. “Yes, sir, I understand. Not a problem, I always have a go bag with me. I’ll check in when we get there.” He hung up and said to Jake, “Speaking of the devil, Director says I should tag along and babysit your sorry butt.”

  “Which figures since you’ve been my guardian angel from the beginning. In fact, I’m surprised the Director didn’t offer you the team leader position.”

  “Who says he didn’t?” Bob replied with a wry smile. “And I turned him down.”

  “Why? You’re a natural fit with your background.”

  “Which is why I don’t want the job. I’m getting too old for the stress. With your computer background and the overseas jobs you’ve had, you’re as qualified as me. Besides, I’d rather sit back and let you take all the flak.”

  “But I thought you liked me…” Jake said with a mock look of surprise.

  “I do, otherwise I wouldn’t be here to back you up. But, as one of my favorite actors, Clint Eastwood, said in a movie, ‘A man’s got to know his limitations.’”

  “I thought John Wayne was your favorite actor?”

  “What, I can’t have more than one favorite actor?”

  Ten minutes later the nimble aircraft sprang off the runway and executed a quick climb to cruising altitude. Bennett stepped out of the cockpit long enough to give cups of coffee to Jake and Bob. They thanked him, and he returned to the copilot seat

  Jake spun the armchair-like seat around to face Bob. “I plan on catching a little shuteye on the way, and this won’t help.”

  He placed the cup in a pull-down holder without drinking.

  “I hear you,” Bob said as he set his cup aside after he drank half.

  “All right, then, let’s go over the latest we have on Yancy.”

  They spread maps out on a table folded down from the sidewall and studied highways.

  “Pyotr told us Yancy planned to head to Chicago,

  but why?” Jake said. “Is he planning an attack there, or is it a stopover on the way east?”

  “Too many cities east for us to protect,” Bob replied. “We need to pare down the list before he gets there.”

  Jake studied the map before looking up at Bob. “Unless he isn’t heading to a particular city. Could be he has another agenda in mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Pyotr says Yancy intends to sell most of the stolen nukes….”

  “Most, why not all?”

  “He says Yancy has a pet project that is the real reason for stealing the nukes.”

  Bob patiently waited for Jake to respond. “Okay, I give up. What’s the pet project?”

  “Yancy didn’t tell him, but he rants and raves about how our government has mistreated him. Something about his immigration status. Says he’ll teach the US a lesson.”

  Uncle Bob sat back and let the information sink in. He clasped his hands together on his ample midsection and twiddled his thumbs. “Man, we got a bucketful of potential targets.”

  “Roger that. Yancy seems to be heading east, which could mean New York City, or Washington, or any one of two-dozen prime targets.”

  Bob pulled an airline pillow out of a storage space under the seat. “I hope we get better intel real soon, but until then, I’ll settle for a nap.”

  “Good idea. It’s important for guys your age to get their beauty rest.”

  “Careful, sonny. Space is a little tight in here, but I might have to take a moment when we get to Chicago and whip your butt.”

  “Better bring your whole team,” Jake replied with a laugh.

  “Which, while we’re on this assignment, is also your team.”

  “True.” Jake reclined the seat to a horizontal position.

  Bob did the same, and they were both asleep within minutes as the plane rocked gently back and forth in the jet stream winds.

  Bill Bennett left the cockpit twenty minutes later with a suppressed pistol in hand. He moved silently down the aisle past Jake, until he stood over the older of the two agents. He would start with Onkst, then finish off Jake, after which he would return to the cockpit and kill the pilot.

  Bennett licked his lips anticipating a comfortable retirement in Belize. Two million dollars in an offshore account could do it.

  He would also have the aircraft with top-secret clearance to fly anywhere in the world. A quick refueling stop in south Texas, then on to Columbia. A repainted jet with new tail numbers was worth another twenty million to drug cartels.

  Bennett raised the weapon and froze in place. A startled look slowly spread across his face before he collapsed onto Onk
st. The pistol made a soft thud on the plush carpet.

  Uncle Bob awoke to the new guy draped across him and blood trickling onto his shirt. “What the….”

  Jake stood in the aisle with a balisong knife dripping blood. “Looks like the new guy won’t collect his first paycheck.”

  “Thanks. Any idea who he works for?”

  “You mean from a long list of prime suspects? Could be Yancy, or Jack Morgan, among others. We’ll find out when we get the full picture of Bennett, or whatever his real name is. I’ll radio ahead for a team to transport his body to the morgue.”

  “Thanks, again.…”

  “No need to repeat yourself, you’d have done the same thing if he came at me first.”

  The BSOG strike team waited for them in front of an Air Force Reserve hangar at O’Hare. A dozen figures dressed in black tactical gear descended on Jake and Bob as they walked down the few steps from the sports car-like aircraft. Two of them took Jake and Bob’s carry-on bags while two others went to retrieve the rest of their gear from a cargo compartment. Two more entered the plane to carry Bennett’s body to a van.

  “’Bout time you two got here,” Kevin Anderson, third-in-command of the team offered as he shook hands with them. “Thought we might have to rescue you from Washington bureaucrats.”

  “Hey, Kevin,” Jake said in a quiet voice. “Long time no see.”

  “Too busy for social visits, although, I hear you’re even busier.”

  “I feel like I’m tap-dancing on roller skates on an ice rink with my hair on fire trying to keep up with current events. Is the team ready to roll?”

  “Go bags are in the Suburbans.” He pointed to three black SUVs lined up on the ramp. “Weapons have been checked, and there’s enough ammo in the deuce-and-a-half to fight World War III. Also brought RPGs and Stingers, in case we need them. Command Posts have been checked and comm gear

  synchronized. Point the way, and we’ll mount up.”

  “That’s the problem. We don’t have a solid fix on where Yancy is holed-up. Could be Chicago, or a suburb.”