The Asset

by Shane Kuhn

  The flight attendant leaned over him and switched off the call button. Her face was briefly illuminated. It was Love.

  “Good,” she said. “Because you need to wake up.”

  Kennedy was blinded by a bright flash of light and found himself looking into a flashlight beam a doctor was shining in his eyes. Love was standing next to him. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes and a bandage on her forehead.

  “You need to wake up . . . Ah, there he is,” she said and kissed him.

  Day 56

  Hey, chief. Guess you got in a little deep, eh?”

  Wes Bowman stood over Kennedy, raising an eyebrow. Kennedy and Love were in a US Coast Guard base hospital in Dania Beach, Florida. They had been there for two days.

  “Wes?”

  “What, you were expecting the girl of your dreams? Oh wait, she’s here too.”

  Love walked up next to Wes and smiled.

  “Don’t look so surprised to see me,” Wes said. “You think after grilling me about this little church picnic I would just take a pass and let the vultures pick you clean?”

  “I thought . . . you said you worked in IT?”

  “We’re all a bunch of fucking liars. That’s our job. I’m actually a UK station chief. Dirty-work specialist.”

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “I’m not here. I was never here. I’m on vacation in Mykonos.”

  “He saved our butts,” Love said.

  “I put a tail on you after you were in Paris. Did you ever get the feeling you were being followed? You were. By me. Tracked you to Miami. Bada-­bing. Bada-boom. And that was one helluva boom. Pulled you out of the drink and here we are.”

  “Then you know about Kruz?”

  “Yup,” Wes said.

  “We have to get moving. We have to stop him.”

  Kennedy got up and fell right to the floor. He dragged himself up under his own power but was shaky on his feet. Love held his arm.

  “Take it easy,” she said.

  “We’re going to try to stop him. Even though this is way outside my jurisdiction, and when they find out I did this they’re going to crucify me—unless we can bag Kruz, in which case I’ll get a medal.”

  “He found Nuri,” Love said.

  “Really? Is she okay?”

  “She’s in pretty bad shape,” Wes said. “She had managed to get one of the lifeboats into the water during the melee on deck. Put a couple of miles between her and the bomb. Lucky for her, it blasted her with seawater, so she wasn’t burned to a crisp. The lifeboat was trashed and she floated in her vest longer than you guys. When we found her, she was hypothermic, in shock, and barely breathing. Docs put her in a coma to try to stabilize her but—”

  “What are her chances?” Kennedy asked.

  “Not sure. I’m amazed she’s lived this long.”

  “Which is why we have to find this motherfucker and stomp his fucking guts out,” Love said through tears.

  “How can you help us, Wes?”

  “I have an American Express black card and a massive set of cojones. So, you tell me what needs to be done and I’ll do what I do best—lie, cheat, steal, spend taxpayers’ money indiscriminately, and stomp motherfuckers’ guts out.”

  Kennedy downloaded Wes on everything: suitcase nukes installed in millimeter wave scanners at twenty-five airports. Devices set to detonate simultaneously on the day before Thanksgiving at 9:00 A.M. Eastern. Attack would be initiated by a preprogrammed satellite signal that couldn’t be deactivated, not even by Kruz. The only thing they could do to stop it was to remove every single device. It had taken nearly three weeks to install them and they had seven days to yank them all out.

  “Jesus, this is dicey as hell,” Wes said. “Extraction is going to be a bitch, but then we have to contain the little fuckers somehow. We’re talking nukes here, so we can’t just toss them in the recycle bin. How am I going to scramble a containment unit in twenty-five cities by . . . now?”

  “There’s no time for that, Wes. They’ll have to travel with us.”

  “You want to fly around the country in a pressurized cabin with a small arsenal of nuclear weapons? That has to be a don’t in the TSA manual.”

  “They’ll keep us warm at night,” Kennedy said.

  “Fine,” Wes said. “Why not? The alternative is imminent death, so what’s a few kilotons of white-hot destruction between friends? Speaking of friends, what kind of tech assistance do we need to pop these babies out?”

  “I’ve got to do it myself,” Kennedy said. “I’m the only one left who knows where to find them and what they look like.”

  “I’ll hold the flashlight,” Love said firmly.

  “You can’t take them out yourself and you know it,” Wes said. “TSA knows you’re not a qualified tech, and pulling something like that is definitely going to derail us. I’ll get you an engineer with weapons experience. You can supervise.”

  “Fine. The bigger problem is that I’m a pariah at some of these airports by now, and Tad Monty is bound to have spread the word to the others,” Kennedy added.

  “Yeah, I kind of figured that, so I have a solution,” Wes said. “After your tussle at JFK, Monty put in a request to the Science and Technology directorate at Homeland, asking them to pull your upgrades for further testing. The request is under review, but I can make a few calls and have them grant his wish within twenty-four hours. Paperwork would go into effect immediately, especially if the device removal is due to hazard or performance impedance.”

  “That’s genius, but we still have to be the ones retrieving the equipment. We don’t want some rookie TSO trying to handle it.”

  “Agreed. Since the upgrades were initiated by you through the phony grant Alia set up, Science and Tech will actually expect you to supervise removal.”

  “Is there anything you haven’t figured out?” Love said to Wes.

  “Yeah. Logistics are a bitch, and pretty much the only way we’ll have a chance to hit all the airports in time is with a very expensive private jet and some morally flexible pilots with little regard for safety. That way we can move quickly, using private terminals at the main airports, maybe municipal airports, whatever keeps the wheels on the wagon.”

  “How long do you think we have until Kruz realizes we’re back from the dead, cockblocking his mini Armageddon?” Love asked.

  “We definitely have a head start, but he has eyes everywhere so we have to assume our advantage will be short-lived,” Kennedy said.

  “Agreed. And remember we have zero support from Langley. In fact, they would bag us if they knew what we were up to. The whole thing has to be stealth and low profile. Congratulations, you just graduated from asset to black ops.”

  “When can we start?” Love asked.

  “We have roughly twenty-four hours to prep,” Wes said. “Get whatever tools and supplies you need and I’ll have the jet pick us up at one of the Richie Rich airports outside Fort Lauderdale. Start thinking about flight logistics. We may want to prioritize airports in the highest collateral damage zones or those close to government targets.”

  “I’m on it,” Kennedy said.

  Day 57

  The plan with TSA Science and Tech worked, and Kennedy was cleared to remove all of the upgrades. Wes got them a former army combat engineer to travel with them to do the work and make sure the nukes didn’t accidentally detonate. Once they had all the bombs in their hot little hands, they would turn them over to DoD for containment and their hero status might keep them out of prison for breaking a phone book of federal laws. Kennedy worked logistics with two pilots who looked like they’d been dragged out of a bar in Tijuana after a five-day bender. He charted a course for them to hit the West Coast and Southwest first, then move through the middle of the country and finish in the East behind a nasty weather system coming
down from Canada.

  “Monty is tracking the Science and Tech thing,” Wes said to Kennedy and Love on the day they took off. “He’s been probing the Department of Justice to bring charges against you.”

  “For what?” Kennedy asked, incredulous.

  “It doesn’t matter. He’s blowing smoke. The problem is, he’s high up in the food chain at DHS, so they can’t ignore him.”

  “What can we do about it now?” Love asked.

  “Nada,” Wes said. “I’m just keeping you in the loop. While you’re on the road, I’ll keep my eye on him and let you know if you’re about to step in it. If Justice starts paying attention to him, we might have a problem. Have a nice trip.”

  * * *

  The pilots turned out to be top-notch, and once they got cleaned up, they were excellent at snowing airport staff into thinking they were a couple of buttoned-up good old boys from Texas. Flight manifests said they were hauling a rock star, Love, on tour. When people saw her, they had no problem believing it. The key with the private jet was speed. They could hit three to four, sometimes five, airports in a twenty-four-hour stretch without breaking a sweat. It was easy to see why the wealthy chose private. Without all the airport-delay bullshit, it was almost like driving.

  On top of that, TSA paperwork Wes conjured for them made their work a breeze. TSA chiefs actually avoided Kennedy when he arrived to pull the upgrades. They were either afraid of associating with him because of Tad Monty or they were embarrassed for him and didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness of Kennedy being clipped by the biggest asshole at DHS. Even the weather was cooperating, making their first four days of travel all over the West Coast, Pacific Northwest, Southwest, and Midwest smooth sailing.

  But Love had been right when she said it all seemed too good to be true. By the time they got to Detroit, Tad Monty was waiting.

  “You got about five minutes to get the fuck out of this airport or I’m calling the police and having you removed.”

  “You can’t do that,” Kennedy said, standing toe-to-toe with him.

  Monty backed off slightly at Kennedy’s bravado. Even Love raised an eyebrow.

  “Bullshit, I can’t. Watch me.”

  Kennedy waited and didn’t move. He kept his eyes on Monty the whole time.

  “I have an order from TSA Science and Tech to remove these upgrades. Based on your request. If you attempt to impede me in any way, I can have you arrested.”

  Love walked up.

  “Everything all right?” she asked.

  “Who the fuck is this bitch?” Monty snarled.

  “Can I talk to you in private, Tad?” Kennedy asked.

  “Let’s go.”

  Love was giving him a What the fuck look as they walked away. The engineer was closing the panel on the scanner machine.

  “Finished here,” he said. “Where’s he going?”

  “TSA paperwork,” Love said. “Shouldn’t be long.”

  As Kennedy and Tad walked toward the office, Kennedy stopped and used the keypad to one of the employee locker rooms the airport manager had allowed him to use from time to time to sleep or shower.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Monty said.

  As Kennedy slipped inside the locker room, which was one of the few places in the airport without security cameras, he looked around to make sure the place was empty. When Monty knocked, Kennedy let him in.

  “You want to tell me how you got access to this—”

  Kennedy locked the bolt on the door and punched him square in the face. Monty fell back hard against the wall, dazed, and felt the blood running out of his nose. He took a swing at Kennedy, but missed, and Kennedy kicked him in the nuts. Monty doubled over, dry-heaving and cursing under his breath. He stood up straight again and looked at Kennedy, furious.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you—”

  He took another swing and Kennedy hit him with a right cross to the jaw, knocking him to the floor. Monty struggled to get up but Kennedy put a foot on his chest and pushed him back down.

  “Down, boy. You don’t want to fuck with me right now,” Kennedy warned.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Monty asked, fear flashing in his beady eyes.

  “Maybe. You see, Tad, you’ve ended my career. And remember what happened when you ended Glenn’s career?”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Yes. And if you show up at any more airports where I’m trying to do what’s left of my job, I’ll kill you. No one ever saw this little exchange between us. It’s not on any of our security cameras. And no one is going to believe someone like me did this to someone like you. At least for long enough for me to come to your house in Long Island—with the beautiful pond and boathouse—yes, I know where you live—and cut your throat in your sleep. I trained with the Israelis, motherfucker. And believe me, they taught me a lot more than how to pick a scumbag out of a crowd. So, you have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. I’m already out. You did your job.”

  He pressed on Monty’s chest with his foot, causing Monty to cough and wheeze.

  “But if you push me, I’ve got nothing else to lose. No house. No family. No kids. All the things you have . . .”

  Kennedy took his foot off Monty’s chest and walked to the door. Tad was just lying there, buying all the bullshit Kennedy had just shoveled into his face. He was genuinely afraid for his life, which almost made Kennedy laugh out loud.

  “I’m glad we finally understand each other.”

  Day 61

  Wes Bowman was pleased with the progress of Kennedy and company. Tad Monty seemed to drop off the radar screen in Detroit, which he was hoping would clear the way for them to finish the East Coast without incident. Wes had been sending spotters to some of the airports as a security measure. Both he and Kennedy knew that, no matter how much wool they pulled over the TSA’s eyes, sooner or later Kruz was going to get wise to their actions and move to stop them. The spotters were there to pick up tails and dispose of them. The first signs of Kennedy and Co. being followed came in Detroit. Spotters didn’t bag anyone, but they had seen four men covering them in rotations.

  When the team was at LaGuardia, Wes flew in. Kennedy and Love were with the engineer, working on the scanner, and the spotters clocked the same men they’d seen in Detroit. Wes called Kennedy and told him to bring Love and the engineer and meet him outside on the Departures curb when they were finished.

  “What’s up? What are you doing here?” Kennedy asked.

  “Just finish up and get out here.”

  They walked outside and found Wes having a cigarette in the smoking area.

  “You finish?” he asked.

  The engineer patted the Pelican case that contained the nuke.

  “All right, listen up,” Wes said. “Kruz’s people are here, so follow me and do exactly as I say. Understood?”

  They nodded and he led them into the parking garage, where he stripped the door lock on a BMW sedan and they got inside. Wes made Kennedy get behind the wheel, with Love in the passenger seat and him and the engineer in back.

  “Valet key,” Wes said.

  Love opened the glove compartment and handed the valet key to Kennedy.

  “Where are they?” Love whispered.

  Three men with guns walked into the garage and spread out. Wes pointed them out and pulled his gun. The engineer pulled his as well.

  “Start the car,” Wes said.

  Kennedy started it. As soon as he did, one of the men stepped out in front of the car fifty feet away and pointed his gun at them.

  “Punch it!” Wes said. “Love, get down!”

  Kennedy hit the accelerator and sped right at the man as he fired three rounds into the windshield. One of them hit the engineer in the head, killing him. Wes secured the bomb case on the floor and hung out the window, firing bac
k at the man. He shot him in the shoulder and spun him around before Kennedy hit him at full speed with the car and threw him like a rag doll through the windshield of another car.

  Kennedy raced through the garage and got on the exit ramp. One of the men fired at them from behind, blowing a hole in the back window. The bullet ripped through Kennedy’s headrest and narrowly missed him as it lodged in the dash. Wes shot back and hit the man in the chest and forehead.

  They rounded the corner and were spiraling down the exit ramp when another man jumped from the ledge on the next floor up, and onto the roof of the car. He smashed Love’s side window and tried to get his gun into the car to shoot, but Kennedy swerved hard and the man lost his grip. Trying to catch himself, he dropped his gun into Love’s window. She picked it up and fired it through the roof, blowing him off the top of the car. Kennedy saw him in the rearview as he smashed into a concrete pillar and rolled down the exit ramp.

  Kennedy floored it out of the parking garage and drove them to the cargo terminal where the pilots were waiting with the plane. He stopped the car and everyone tried to catch their breath. Love was freaking out. She couldn’t stomach the sight of the dead engineer, so she got out and jogged back to the plane.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Wes said, covering the body with his coat.

  “Can you get me someone else?” Kennedy asked.

  “Not enough time. You have two days to knock out the last two airports. Think you can do it yourself?”

  “I have to. Whatever it takes.”

  CHARLOTTE DOUGLAS INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

  Day 62

  After LaGuardia, there were two airports left to disarm—Charlotte and Atlanta.

  Because of the heat Kruz had on them, the pilots changed destination headings and altered their course several times on their way to Charlotte, not committing to an airfield until an hour before landing. They chose the Gastonia Municipal Airport twenty miles from Charlotte Douglas, and took a taxi in. Love was looking worse for the wear. Killing Kruz’s thug at LaGuardia was clearly weighing heavily on her, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Kennedy tried to convince her to sit Charlotte out and get some rest until he got back, but she refused to leave his side.