“Where am I keeping your daughter? you might ask. I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. But I know you’re very capable, so even if you manage to somehow learn where she is, you can’t rescue her. I’m keeping her at a site protected by a nested set of booby traps. Booby traps that are foolproof. Any rescue attempt will fail, and will trigger her death.”
He turned away from the camera and focused on Riley. “Why don’t you say a few words to your dear departed father.”
“This is ludicrous!” she barked. “He’s roasting in hell. Even if he were alive,” she added, “he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me. You’re wasting your time.”
Volkov grinned and turned to the camera once more. “This should be plenty for you to get a voice match, Mr. Jordan. As you can see, your daughter is still skeptical. So let’s make her a believer. Meet me where I tell you. No tricks. If you try any, they will fail. And even if they don’t, even if you somehow manage to kill me, my comrades will reward your success by killing your daughter. If you don’t show, or, for that matter, fail to precisely follow my every instruction, I’ll have your daughter’s right hand removed. If that doesn’t get you motivated, you’ll get to watch my men torture her to death.
“But if you do as I say, I give you my word your daughter and her . . . companion, will be allowed to leave here, unharmed. Once I have you, I have no use for her. Since I’m sure you’ll want proof of life before you surrender, my men will transmit video footage of her just before you’re required to give yourself up. She’ll be alive and well.”
Volkov glared at the camera and read off a series of coordinates. “I’ll see you at four p.m. tomorrow. Pacific Standard Time. Don’t be late.”
With that the man he had called Sergei manipulated his phone and spoke a few words of Russian to Volkov, no doubt telling him the bug was now off. Volkov lowered his gun and backed away. “Thank you,” he said to Riley. “That should do nicely.”
“If you really think he’ll sacrifice himself to save me,” she said in contempt, “you’re out of your fricking mind.”
“Really?” he said with a cruel smile. “That’s not what your Uncle Mike told me.”
Riley gasped. “Where is he?” she screamed. “What have you done with him?”
“Let me tell you a quick story,” said Volkov. “I’ve been working for fourteen months on the same mission. But my big breakthrough only came recently. I won’t bore you with how I discovered your father was alive and was the man I was looking for. But along the way I found satellite footage of him, after his supposed death, with the man you know as Michael O’Banion. Not his real name, by the way. But I’m sure you of all people—Riley—can understand why someone might want to use an alias.”
Riley felt the blood boiling in her veins and it was all she could do to stop herself from charging the man. If there had been even a small chance she might succeed, she would have.
“Despite being lucky enough to get this footage,” continued Volkov, “it didn’t help me find either O’Banion or your father. Both had vanished without a trace. But then I got another lucky break. I finally managed to pick up O’Banion’s trail once again here in San Diego.” He arched an eyebrow. “So I had a little meeting with him in the wee hours of the morning. Inside his suite at the Sheraton.”
Riley felt sick to her stomach. It was impossible not to suspect the worst, feel that it was inevitable. A runaway train was about to slam into her, and all she could do was watch it race nearer, helpless to change its course.
“I hit him with a powerful truth serum,” said the Russian, “but he had been pre-primed not to disclose anything about your father’s possible whereabouts, regardless of the drugs or torture used. Fortunately for me, a mental block like this is necessarily limited, so he was free to speak on other topics. Imagine my surprise when I asked your drugged Uncle Mike why he was in San Diego, and he described his dinner with you just the night before. He then went on to tell me much, much more about you. I’ll admit to being stunned. I had no idea that you were still alive and that your father cared so deeply about your well-being.”
“You killed him, didn’t you?” whispered Riley, trying to hold back tears. She had taken one emotional gut punch after another and had released more tears in one day than she had in many years.
Volkov continued to ignore her. “Did you know that Uncle Mike and Isaac Jordan go way back? He’s been your father’s closest associate for years. It was your father who sent him to help you in the first place, impersonating a government agent. It was your father who set up your identity as Riley Ridgeway.”
Riley’s head was spinning. Could it be? Could Michael O’Banion be nothing more than her father’s puppet? What sick game had they been playing?
“So Isaac Jordan has been helping you behind the scenes and keeping tabs on your life. He and Mike think the world of you. And O’Banion was absolutely clear on one important point. Your father would do anything to keep you safe. Anything. Including sacrificing his own life. I asked this question very clearly, and O’Banion was quite certain of the answer. And he couldn’t lie, since he was heavily drugged.”
Volkov shrugged. “So that’s my story. And to answer your question, I’m afraid I did have to kill your adopted uncle. He was all out of useful information. And I couldn’t have him warning you or your father.”
Riley didn’t respond. This wasn’t a revelation, simply confirmation of what she had already known. The approaching train had finally hit, and she felt as though her nervous system might shut down, give up trying to sort through so many powerful emotions. She had come to love Michael O’Banion like a father. Had he betrayed her also?
And now he was dead.
She wanted to curl up into a fetal position and make the world go away.
She could feel David Bram’s arms around her, trying to lend support, strength, knowing how devastating these blows had to be.
But instead of taking comfort from this gesture, all she could do was wonder when Bram, too, would betray her.
And how long it would be before he, too, was taken from her, like everyone else she dared to care about.
23
Cameron Carr finally managed to free himself from David Bram’s dining room table and the zip ties that had been used to restrain him. He checked his phone, which had vibrated once in his pocket while he had struggled to free himself. He found that he had missed three calls altogether. The other two must have come in while he was still unconscious.
All three calls had come from Lieutenant General Brian McReynolds, Director of the Defense Intelligence Agency. The DIA was similar in function to the CIA, although McReynolds reported in through Dwyer. When Carr had needed intel on Bram and to re-task a satellite to keep tabs on Volkov, it had been more efficient for him to get this done through McReynolds and the DIA.
Carr rushed into Bram’s living room, placed his phone on an end table, and ordered it to place a call to DIA Director McReynolds. As soon as the director answered, a perfect 3D image of his upper body was projected above the phone, and Carr’s image was no doubt being projected in McReynolds’s office at Joint Base Anacostia–Bolling in Washington, D.C.
“Sorry I wasn’t available to take your calls, General,” said Carr after they had exchanged greetings.
“What happened? Do you need assistance?”
“I’m fine. But Bram got away. I assume you have something to report.”
“Yes,” replied McReynolds. “I was tracking Volkov and his men, but they didn’t arrive at Bram’s home around twenty hundred hours as expected. Instead, they converged on a motel in El Cajon called the Shut-Eye Motel.”
“Why there?”
“They broke in and forcibly extracted David Bram and Riley Ridgeway,” said the general. “Since I thought you were bringing these two to a safe house, this was . . . unexpected.”
Carr issued a silent curse. He was too late, as feared. After Riley had bested him, Volkov had beaten him to the punch. “Where are they now?�
�
“We tracked them to an abandoned church about an hour northeast of your location,” said McReynolds, who went on to give him the precise address. “When I couldn’t reach you, I sent in a recon team to get eyes on the church from the ground, and to gather intel.”
“Outstanding, General, thank you. What have they found?”
“You aren’t going to like it. Four of Volkov’s comrades were already there. Volkov’s arrival brought the total to eight, plus the two hostages. Reports from my recon team indicate the church’s perimeter is crisscrossed with sensor arrays, invisible to the eye. These control explosives and other heavy armaments.”
Carr frowned. Sensors had improved so rapidly, and could detect so much, they had transformed both intelligence gathering and installation security. The sensor arrays were typically linked to an AI system, which monitored incoming data. Authorized personnel could waltz through the array in perfect harmony. The AI would also ensure that butterflies or squirrels that passed inside the perimeter didn’t trigger any deadly strikes.
Unauthorized personnel, on the other hand, would be massacred instantly, unleashing a veritable Armageddon on themselves. Which tended to make a surprise attack out of the question. Not to mention survival.
“Any weaknesses in the array we might be able to exploit?” asked Carr.
“None. The system is state of the art. Our most advanced sensor nullification technology did nothing. We tried to hack the signal going to the AI inside, but failed. And it gets worse. The recon team believes they’ve booby-trapped the hell out of the place. So even if we were to use overwhelming force, bring in tanks to gain entrance, there won’t be an entrance by the time we get to it.”
Carr nodded. A great strategy to use while holding hostages. Volkov could likely thwart any attack, but if not, there was still no way to breach without the hostages paying for it with their lives. Deterrents didn’t get any better than that. “Any intel on Bram and Ridgeway?” he asked.
“Affirmative. Long-range sensing indicates they’re in a room toward the back of the church. Based on the architectural plans we pulled, this would be the pastor’s office. We believe that this has been rigged individually to implode, although we can’t be certain what means are being used to arm or disarm this trap.”
“What’s their state of health?”
The general shook his head. “Unclear. They could be hale and hearty. Or they could be bleeding out with minutes to live. Volkov visited them with two of his men for a short while at one point. During this period we detected a strong transmission emanating from the room.”
“What kind of transmission?”
“We believe both audio and visual, protected by highly advanced quantum encryption. Whoever is receiving the transmission doesn’t want it hacked.”
Carr rubbed the back of his head as he considered the situation. What could Volkov have been broadcasting? There was no way to know.
At least Bram was still alive. For the time being. “Thank you, General. Excellent work. Please have your team retreat another hundred yards away from the church until further notice.”
The team was stationed just beyond sensor range, but if Volkov got lucky and managed to detect them, anyway, this would make an impossible situation even more impossible.
Carr ended the call with McReynolds and immediately contacted Troy Dwyer and Melanie Yoder, whose virtual 3D figures soon graced Bram’s living room. He relayed the information he had just learned from the Director of the DIA.
While he was reporting, McReynolds called with an update. Volkov had left the church and had taken off in a small jet from a private airfield nearby, his destination unclear. Carr instructed the general to keep close tabs on the man, but to continue to monitor events at the church.
Why the major would leave Bram before completing an interrogation was mystifying to Carr. There was something important about this situation he was missing.
Carr ended the communication once again with the head of the DIA and finished briefing Melanie Yoder and the Secretary of Defense. He explained that Bram was so well protected and booby-trapped inside the church that the entire Seventh Cavalry couldn’t spring him.
“Any chance we could pry Bram loose after they leave the church?” asked Dwyer when Carr had finished.
“Possibly. But they’re clearly dug in. You don’t go to all that trouble to defend a location if you’re planning to leave right away. My guess is that they’ll keep Bram safely inside until Volkov returns from whatever errand he’s on. When he does, he’ll finish the interrogation and kill Bram. Even if they leave the church with Bram still alive, extracting him from a team this good won’t be easy. And he could be killed in the process.”
“What about intercepting Volkov?” asked Dwyer. “Now that he’s separated himself from the pack?”
“Also a possibility. But that will alert the men in the church that we’re here. I’d prefer to extract Bram from the church as soon as possible, instead.”
“I thought you just said that not even the Seventh Cavalry could do that,” said Dwyer.
“I did,” said Carr. “But I just had an interesting thought. Sergei Greshnev is still inside. And he’ll recognize me. I just realized there’s a gambit I can use that might do the trick. Risky, and very bold, but I think it can work.”
“And if it doesn’t?” said Melanie Yoder.
Carr frowned. “Then I’ll be too dead for any second-guessing,” he replied grimly.
“What are the odds of success?” said Dwyer.
“Odds?” said Carr with a twinkle in his eye. “I have no idea. Math was my worst subject.”
“I thought science was your worst subject,” said Melanie with a wry smile.
“I guess what I’m really bad at is remembering what my worst subject is.”
Melanie laughed, but the Secretary of Defense couldn’t have been more grim. “It’s your call, Lieutenant. If you think it’s worth the risk, do whatever you think best.”
“Understood,” said Carr. Then, after a pause, he added, “I am going to need support. Remember when you said I could get anything I needed on this mission? Including a tank battalion rolling down the streets of Beverly Hills?”
“I remember,” said Dwyer.
“Great. Well, I have good news on two fronts. First, while I do have some special needs, a tank battalion won’t be among them. And second, the church isn’t located in Beverly Hills.”
“Okay then,” said Dwyer, playing along. “I guess the situation is looking up.”
Carr blew out a long breath. “Sure,” he said unconvincingly. “What could possibly go wrong?”
24
“Captain, you need to see this,” said Alex Bagrov. “There’s a guy just outside the sensor perimeter holding up a sign.”
Sergei Greshnev rushed over to a monitor Bagrov had been manning near the church entrance. The intruder’s image was too small to make out any real detail, but was ablaze with light against the dark midnight sky. Whoever this was, he had made certain he would be seen.
“Have you pinged him yet with long-range sensors?” asked Greshnev.
Bagrov nodded.
“Good. What kind of weapons is he carrying?”
Bagrov consulted another screen. “None,” he said in surprise. “At least according to the long-range optical and gravimetric sensors. And long range olfactory sensors haven’t detected the signatures of any known explosives.”
Greshnev was intrigued. The man’s position just a few feet from the edge of the invisible sensor array indicated he was well aware it was there, which meant he had to be military. So why had he disarmed and shined a literal spotlight on himself, turning himself into a sitting duck? “Zoom in on his face,” he ordered.
Greshnev’s eyes widened as this order was carried out.
“You recognize him?” said Bagrov.
“Yes. Naval Lieutenant Cameron Carr. An American spy. Worked for years out of the US Embassy in Moscow. He’s very good. The GRU
finally figured out what he was up to and sent Marat to take him out, but he failed. Carr got away and returned to the States.”
“I wasn’t aware the major had ever failed on an assignment before,” said Bagrov, completely serious.
“Not often,” said Greshnev. “Which means we shouldn’t take this man lightly. There aren’t many operatives around the world that Marat respects, but Cameron Carr is one of them.”
“How could he know to be here?” said Bagrov. “What could he want?”
“Good questions. Since he’s holding up a sign, let’s find out. Zoom in and project his entire image inside this room in 3D. Life size.”
A moment later Cameron Carr appeared to be standing just three feet away from Greshnev. The American’s face was calm and impassive as he waited outside the sensor perimeter for them to spot him and take the action they had just taken.
The message was written in black pen on a large piece of white cardboard, in Russian.
To: Marat Volkov
From: Cameron Carr
Major, I believe we are working toward a similar goal. I have information I know will be critical to your mission—to our mission. I am aware of your defenses. By now you have no doubt confirmed that I’m unarmed and helpless. You could easily kill me. But this would be a grave error on your part. Kill me without knowing what I know, and your mission will fail. If you let me come inside, I will share what I know, without expecting anything in return, other than safe passage back outside. If you agree, instruct your AI to let me pass through your sensor array, and then shoot an un-silenced round off into the air as a signal that the coast is clear. I’ll be waiting.
Greshnev considered. The man certainly wasn’t lacking in courage. But what was he playing at? There was little doubt they were on a similar mission, but was he really so naive as to believe they were pursuing identical goals? He doubted it. Which meant there was no way he simply wanted to help them without wanting anything in return.
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