Running Dark ec-2

by Jamie Freveletti

  “So they’re searching for me,” he said.

  Banner nodded. “Time to go.”

  Rickell shook his head. “No.”

  Banner had expected this response. Rickell probably viewed himself as Banner’s superior in many of the ways that counted. Without Rickell’s signature, Darkview wouldn’t land the lucrative DOD contracts that kept the company humming. Banner, however, viewed no man as his superior. Either they partnered with him in ventures where both gained something or they stayed away. Rickell’s office had hired Banner to bring Rickell out, and that’s what he’d do.

  “We leave now. I haven’t much time.”

  “No.”

  The men at the table waited, watching them both with interested eyes.

  “I’ll drag you out of here if I have to. I’ve been hired to get you, and, as you know, my company delivers. I can’t afford to fail. Not given the current climate surrounding Darkview. Plus, I’ve got mouths to feed.”

  Rickell snorted. “You don’t have any children.”

  Banner didn’t bother to correct him. “I’ve got office and equipment costs, three hundred and twenty operatives worldwide, a vice president, and a secretary with an expensive tattoo habit who’s putting herself through school.”

  The player to Rickell’s right gave a soft laugh. He was one of the silver-haired men who had taken the stairs before Banner. His eyes sparkled with enjoyment. Banner was glad someone was having a good evening, because it certainly wasn’t him. He took a step toward Rickell.

  The men at the table shifted. The smiling man raised an eyebrow, lowered his cards to place them facedown on the felt, and spoke in German to the others. Their chairs scraped backward as the players stood. One of them indicated to the girls that they should leave.

  “Schnell,” he said. Even Banner knew that meant “fast.”

  The girls moved with an alacrity that impressed Banner, given the shoes they wore.

  Rickell rose, staring at him the whole time. He was two inches shorter than Banner’s six feet, but fit. Banner thought he’d be easy to beat. Unless the poison gave him superhero powers, Banner didn’t view him as any risk in a fight. None at all. His only problem was going to be subduing Rickell without doing any real harm to him. He would have to pull all his punches.

  “I could beat you, you know,” Rickell said.

  The other players’ heads swiveled to watch Banner’s response.

  Banner kept a level stare. “You’ve got a lot of skills, Mr. Rickell, but fighting isn’t one of them. You benefit from living in a country where the rule of law prevails. I’ve spent most of my life infiltrating those where none exists. It’s going to be no contest.”

  The smiling man gazed at Banner with a look of respect. No one spoke.

  Rickell waved at his chips. A man emerged from a darkened corner at the back of the room. He placed a holder on the table, counted out Rickell’s chips, and wrote a number down on a pad of paper. He slid the pad toward Rickell and handed him a pen. Rickell signed the receipt without really looking at it.

  “You keep that under lock and key?”

  The banker nodded.

  “Let’s go,” Rickell said.

  Banner stepped aside. “After you.”

  The other players seemed to sigh in unison. The smiling man caught Banner’s eye and nodded once. Banner returned the gesture.

  They made it down the stairs, out the door, and into the narrow lane before they were attacked.

  The man came out of nowhere. He raced toward Rickell, his hand outstretched. Banner caught a glimpse of a white-handled weapon in the man’s right hand. Rickell stumbled back as the man hauled off to stab him. Banner threw himself between Rickell and the attacker, knocking the man’s arm out of the way. He swung his left fist into the man’s temple. The attacker grunted, falling back, his arms flailing. Two more men came around the corner.

  “Rickell, move!” Banner said. Rickell scrambled up. His expensive leather shoes slipped on the pavement, forcing him down again. Banner grabbed him by the arm, propelling him upward and dragging him down the street, in the direction of his car. He heard the men’s feet pounding behind them. Banner let go of Rickell while he pulled the ignition key out of his pocket. He hit the button to open the doors. The taillights flashed in response.

  “You see that?” Banner yelled to Rickell.

  Rickell angled toward the vehicle.

  Banner was a foot from the car when the men reached him. He swung around to face them. They were two swarthy-faced foreigners with undisguised hate in their dark eyes. One carried a knife. Banner tried to see if the other was armed, but the man’s hand was covered in shadow. The knife wielder stepped forward, his hand flying out to stab. Banner stepped off the line of attack, grabbed the man’s arm, holding it away from his body while he pulled back to punch the man with his right hand. The man tried to yank his arm out of Banner’s grasp. Banner held it tightly while he pistoned his fist into the man’s nose.

  The sound of collapsing cartilage echoed through the narrow lane. The second man was on Banner, grabbing him around the neck, doing his best to haul Banner’s face down toward the pavement. He plunged a needle into Banner’s skin where the neck met the shoulder. Banner felt the surge of some unknown chemical enter his veins. His skin heated like it was on fire. It might have been adrenaline running in his system, but the force of it was unlike anything he’d felt before. He pulled out of the other man’s grasp with an ease he shouldn’t have possessed. The man had such a grip on Banner that the maneuver caused Banner’s flesh to twist as he wrenched his throat free. He felt his skin abrade from the friction, creating a burn across the back of his neck.

  The Eroscenter door flew open, and the manager catapulted out of it with a policeman’s baton in his hand. He swung it in an arc, catching the first man across the arm that was still holding the knife. The attacker dropped the weapon with a cry of pain while blood poured out of his nose from Banner’s punch. He was off, running back down the lane. The second man released Banner in an instant. He sprinted away, following the other guy. Banner stood still, his breath heaving. The passenger door on the car opened, and Rickell stepped out. He gazed at Banner but remained silent.

  “Are you okay?” the manager said. “I saw you being attacked. The camera recorded it.” He indicated the camera over the Eroscenter’s door. Before Banner could answer, Frau Kartiner stepped out of the entrance, a worried look on her face. Behind her hovered the young cocktail waitress.

  Banner took a deep, steadying breath. The strange fizz ran through his veins, and his skin crawled. He wanted to continue fighting. When he saw Frau Kartiner, his urge to fight turned into something different. The force of his desire made his body heat up and his mouth go dry. He stared at her, unable to take his eyes off her.

  Frau Kartiner’s eyebrows flew upward, and she took a step back. Color suffused her face. The cocktail waitress watched them both, but when she saw Frau Kartiner’s face redden, she bestowed a fascinated look on her boss. The manager stared, too.

  “Are you injured?” Frau Kartiner’s voice was a whisper. Banner didn’t trust himself to speak. What he needed was for her to move away.

  “Thank you,” Rickell said. The waitress and the manager turned to acknowledge him. Banner and Kartiner stayed frozen. “We’ll be going now. Banner?” Rickell prodded Banner.

  Banner swallowed a dry gulp. “I owe you all.” He was surprised at how normal his voice sounded.

  Frau Kartiner’s face relaxed. She smiled a genuine smile. “You be careful. You are welcome. Anytime.” She emphasized the “Anytime.”

  Banner slid into the driver’s seat, put on his belt, and drove out of the narrow lane. After a minute of silence, while he negotiated his way through the busy area, Rickell shifted.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’ve been poisoned.”

  Rickell was silent so long that Banner thought he didn’t hear him.

  “What are the effect
s?” he said at last.

  “I’m not sure. Some sort of heightened fight-or-flight response. Old behaviors renewed—it’s why you gambled. Emma Caldridge, the chemist we’re using for the cruise-line rescue, thought maybe it was an adrenaline by-product, or a dopamine enhancer, she wasn’t sure.”

  “Was she poisoned, too?”

  “Yes. As were Cooley, you, and now me. You have a jet at your disposal?”

  “I fly commercial. Why?”

  “I need to fly to Berbera, and I need the Redoubtable to pick me up.”

  “You found the cruise liner?”

  “We did. It’s under attack, but well outside the zone. We need to finish this thing.”

  Rickell hesitated.

  “Don’t give me any more international-law craziness. It’s outside the zone. The insurgents can’t reach it for the moment. Please arrange for the Redoubtable to send a helicopter to take me the rest of the way. It’s about time we shut this whole pirate crew down.”

  “You had some intelligence about this ship before it sailed, didn’t you?”

  Banner nodded. “But it was incomplete. The German conglomerate that owned the ship thought maybe one of the crew was dealing drugs from various ports. We heard that a group of European arms traders were on the ship in preparation to attend an auction to buy some more product. I borrowed an agent from the Southern Hemisphere Drug Defense Agency to sail with the ship.”

  “Who?”

  “Cameron Sumner.”

  “The Colombian disaster.”

  Banner sighed. “I wish everyone would stop saying that. The Colombian thing is over. We did nothing wrong.”

  Rickell nodded. “I know. I’ll help wrap that up when I get back.”

  They drove for a while, Banner navigating the narrow streets to hit the main road to the airport. He heard Rickell chuckle.

  “I was losing that game, but I was ahead overall. For the first time ever, I was ahead. If you hadn’t stopped me, I would have put it all back on the table. But thanks to you I’m ahead. It’s a good way to go out.”

  A half hour later, Banner pulled the car up to a spot on a road near the runway at the Frankfurt airport. He killed the engine and sat in the silence.

  “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to know that the gambling returned because of a poisoning,” Rickell said. “Have you ever had an impulse that you couldn’t control?”

  Banner thought about the moment he’d wanted to continue fighting, and when he stared at Frau Kartiner. He’d controlled himself, but just barely.

  “No, but I’ve been close,” he said.

  “Well, it’s a frightening thing when your body craves what your mind rejects.”

  Banner didn’t reply.

  Rickell reached for the door. “Thank you for getting me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Don’t die out there.”

  Rickell slammed the door and walked away.

  50

  BANNER’S PHONE RANG TEN MINUTES AFTER HE LANDED IN BERBERA, Somalia. He glanced at the readout. The number listed was unfamiliar. He punched the green button.

  “Banner here.”

  “It is Giovanni Roducci.”

  Banner snapped to attention. Roducci wouldn’t call him if he’d had an opportunity to speak to Stromeyer. Something was up. “Yes?”

  “I have just learned that both you and Major Stromeyer may be targeted for death.”

  Banner did his best not to let his mouth drop open. “Who’s targeting us?”

  “A man called the Vulture. He is a corporate raider from Europe. Lots of money that he spreads around. No one really knows his true identity, because he operates out of a tangled mass of offshore shell corporations, but it is believed his influence reaches into the highest levels of society. Unfortunately, he uses the influence to harm those who get in his way.”

  “How have I gotten in his way?”

  “You haven’t. You got in the way of a Somali warlord. This warlord cut a deal that included wiping Darkview off the planet.”

  “What does the Vulture get in return for killing me?”

  “He gets the warlord to capture a cruise ship that carries several dealers waiting to bid for the formula for a new drug. Once the warlord captures the ship, he takes the dealers hostage and gives the Vulture the cargo. The Vulture wipes out his competition in one clean sweep, and no one will suspect he’s behind the attack. After all, pirate attacks have become quite common in the past few years, so it will be considered just another act of piracy.”

  “Is Major Stromeyer aware of this?”

  “She is. I contacted her first, of course.”

  “Of course,” Banner said. He was surprised Roducci even bothered to let him know. Sometimes he thought Roducci would like nothing better than to see Banner out of his way.

  “What did Stromeyer say?”

  “She told me that you had already placed bodyguards around her in response to some recent threats. Then she asked me to warn you. She would have done it herself, but she was concerned about a wiretap.”

  A man in military clothing stepped up to Banner. “Your helicopter to the Redoubtable is ready,” he whispered at Banner. Banner acknowledged him with a nod.

  “Thank you, Mr. Roducci.”

  “Anytime, Signor Banner.”

  TARRANT SAT OUTSIDE STROMEYER’S HOUSE. He’d had no opportunity to hit her with the pen all day. The two bodyguards never left her side. He checked his watch. He’d been sitting in the car for over three hours. He needed to do something soon. Take some action. He reached into the glove compartment, extracted two more pills, his last, and downed them with a whiskey chaser. His nerves were uncommonly jittery. A knock on the driver’s-side window startled him. He saw only dark knuckles and antelope cuff links. It was the African. Tarrant lowered the window.

  “I thought you would never get here. I’m out,” Tarrant said.

  “Yes, you are,” the African said. He pointed a gun with a silencer at Tarrant’s head and shot him. He walked calmly away, flipping open a phone as he did. “It’s finished,” he said.

  “And the woman?”

  “Alive.”

  “Good.”

  The African was confused. He thought the woman was supposed to be targeted for elimination.

  “Why don’t you want her dead?”

  “She received a confidential communication from an arms trader, mentioning my involvement. She started digging, looking for my identity. She is quite adept at obtaining information. She notified the DOD that if she or Banner is injured or killed, they are to activate an investigation.”

  The African felt a stab of fear. “Does she know us?”

  “Not yet, but it is best that we subside for some time.”

  “And Mungabe?”

  “I’ll deal with Mungabe.”

  The Vulture hung up.

  51

  EMMA WATCHED THE CROWD OF MEN STAMPEDE. THEY TURNED as a group toward Sumner and Block. The two men moved to the side to let the panicked passengers run past them in their rush to the casino. Emma sprinted to the bridge, Cindy close at her heels, and pounded on the door. The captain’s second officer opened it. Emma, Cindy, Sumner, and Block pushed into the room, which was already filled with Wainwright, Janklow, Herr Schullmann, Marina, and several ship employees. They all stared at a radar screen set into the Kaiser Franz’s control panel.

  “You fixed the radar,” Sumner said.

  “It’s jerry-rigged from some old parts we found in storage,” Janklow said. “Although right about now I wish we hadn’t managed it.”

  The radar showed thirty green dots massed at a spot not far from the ship.

  “What do you think?” Wainwright said to Janklow.

  Janklow rubbed a tired hand over his face. “Maybe it’s a meeting?”

  Wainwright nodded. “I agree, but what are they meeting about?”

  “New tactics being discussed? Sumner?”

  “I think they’re getting ready to do t
his thing right.”

  Block groaned.

  Sumner ignored him while he pointed at the dot closest to shore. “That’s the mother ship. They’re going to make a concerted attack.”

  Emma was appalled. If the dots represented individual pirate boats, then they were soon to be overrun. Her head started pounding. She wasn’t ready to be a hostage, and she wasn’t ready to die. She looked at the men assembled around her. She was as helpless to stop this thing as they were.

  The massed dots were moving toward them. Ahead of the entire group, and also moving toward them, was a lone dot. It was nearly upon them. She pointed to it. “Who is that?”

  Wainwright handed her a set of binoculars. “Have a look.” He pointed beyond the bridge’s window to the sea. Emma couldn’t make anything out. She put the binoculars to her eyes. A small boat sprang into view. While the driver’s face was unrecognizable because he was behind a water-splattered windshield, the second man’s face was not. It was Richard Stark.

  “That’s Hassim and Stark. The two men who helped me get here.”

  “Are they friend or foe?” Wainwright asked.

  Good question, she thought. Hassim she could vouch for, at least. “The driver is an agent for the Darkview company. The passenger is the CEO of Price Pharmaceuticals.”

  Wainwright gave her an incredulous look. “Since when do CEOs of major Fortune 500 companies end up on the high seas being chased by Somali pirates?”

  Emma had to agree. Stark was not to be trusted. “Since I don’t know. Some very strange things have been occurring at Price, and he’s in the thick of them.”

  “Do we let him board?” Janklow said.

  Wainwright nodded. “I’m not leaving the Darkview operative to die out there. We’ll haul them both on deck and sort it out later.” He thought a moment. “Is everyone accounted for?”