Containment Failure (A Special Agent Dylan Kane Thriller, Book #2)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  The country was going to hell, and this time he had no one to fight.

  The young agent turned to him, her conversation with one of their subjects having been cut off. “We’re going into a hot LZ. It looks like they’re under attack by approximately ten armed men.”

  Dawson frowned as he shrugged his shoulders, shifting the weight of his gear slightly, the Nuclear-Biological-Chemical NBC hazmat gear they were forced to wear making fighting a little more difficult. Now they were going into a hot LZ.

  This just keeps getting better.

  “I recommend we find another place to land then double-time it in. Put the bird back in the air, it can be our eyes and provide cover. Once we’ve secured the area, we’ll extract at the originally planned LZ.”

  “Agreed,” replied Agent White as she relayed new orders to the pilot. He wondered if that were her name, or code, his alias usually Mr. White. He turned to his team, a team much smaller than he would have liked with perhaps a dozen opponents facing them, but right now they were working in groups of four to maximize their ability to supplement the CIA operations. His second most senior man, Mike “Red” Belme was leading team two, and Leon “Atlas” James was leading team three. In the chopper with him he had Will “Spock” Lightman, Carl “Niner” Sung and Gerry “Jimmy Olson” Hudson with him. All experienced operators, men he wouldn’t hesitate to trust with his life.

  “You all heard that?” There were nods. “Spock, you’re with me and Agent White. Jimmy and Niner, take our flank, eliminate anything that isn’t us. Our subjects are holed up in a reinforced cottage. It’s the National Clandestine Service Chief’s family we’re going after, so let’s try not to shoot them.”

  Everyone looked at Niner for some flippant comment but got nothing except him turning his entire upper body to face each of them for a moment. Finally he said something.

  “What? You expect me to be funny in this damned bunny suit? You know me, it’s all in the delivery. My facial expressions, my posture, my—”

  “I think we got it,” interrupted Spock, his trademark eyebrow not visible to the team either.

  Jimmy looked at Agent White. “Sorry, Agent. Our humor is handicapped by our equipment today.”

  White looked at Jimmy. “I’m sure they weren’t thinking of that when they designed it.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But don’t worry, Sergeant. From what I can see, you look plenty funny to me.”

  Niner roared, punching Jimmy’s shoulder.

  “She owned you, bra!”

  Jimmy rubbed his shoulder, wagging his finger at the young agent.

  “You’re on my list now!” he scolded as he laughed. “You’re fair game now!”

  “Bring it on!” urged White.

  “ETA sixty seconds,” said the pilot over the comm. The side door was slid open by a crewmember and Dawson looked out to see they were being dropped on a dirt road. A quick scan of the area and he knew right where they were from his briefing. This would be the road leading up to the cottage.

  The wheels touched down and Dawson jumped out, followed by the rest of his team and the young agent. The chopper was airborne again within seconds, now their eye in the sky. Dawson checked the tactical computer zipped into his arm and selected a view of the area provided by the chopper, infrared images beginning to glow as it gained altitude. He pointed at the display.

  “There’s the cottage. Looks like eight hostiles surrounding it, two recently dead near the front. Probably the gunfire you heard when talking to the subject.”

  Agent White nodded, then pointed up the road. “Let’s move. We don’t know how long they can hold out. Once we get near the cottage, we’ll split up into two teams, and eliminate the targets.”

  “Agreed.” Dawson turned to his men. “Let’s go gentlemen. Niner, you take point.”

  “Is this because I’m Asian?”

  “Of course.”

  Niner trotted out ahead, then the rest followed, Niner quickly putting some distance between them. Jimmy came next, about twenty feet ahead of Dawson and White, with Spock taking up the rear. It didn’t take long for the sound of gunfire to be heard through the thick trees, and according to the GPS on his tactical computer, they were nearly at the cottage when they found Niner taking a knee in the brush to the side of the road, his fist held up indicating they should stop.

  They all moved to the side, taking a knee and cover. Dawson activated his comm.

  “Report.”

  “Two hostiles hiding behind a truck, twenty meters head of me. On the number two side of the structure there are three more, and I can see muzzle flashes on the number four side. Tac computer shows two there, plus two more at the rear on the number three side.”

  “Roger that. Jimmy, you and Niner take out the two nearest us quietly.”

  Jimmy rushed forward to join Niner as the rest of the team advanced to Niner’s former position where they had a clear view of Niner and Jimmy. Both had their knives out and within seconds had pounced on their targets, hands cupped over the enemy mouths, knives slitting their throats. After gently lowering the bodies to the ground, they took up positions behind the wheels of the truck.

  “Niner, Jimmy, break left, take out the targets on the number two side on my mark. We’ll go right, take out the number four side.”

  “Roger that,” said Niner as he and Jimmy retreated into the trees on the left side of the road. Dawson moved forward to get a visual on the three north side targets and cursed.

  “What is it?” asked White.

  “They’re up to something.”

  One of the men ran from his position, carrying what looked like a chain, dragging it from the front of a police SUV, lights still flashing, to the front porch. He crawled the rest of the way, then when he reached the door, Dawson saw a Judas hole slide open and a gun appear. The man though seemed prepared for this, his angle making it almost impossible to get a shot off at him.

  Instead he held his position, tight and low against the wall, then when the person inside stopped to reload, he jumped up, shoved the hook into the Judas hole, then pulled the chain tight as he retreated. Dawson could see hands desperately trying to dislodge the hook from the hole, to no avail.

  “Now! Now! Now!” yelled the man. Dawson saw the SUV’s tires spin as the man let go of the chain, diving to the ground. The SUV struggled for a moment then the front door came flying off. There was a scream of a woman from inside and suddenly two men came running around the corner from the one-two corner to the left of the porch, two men racing to join them from the one-four corner to the right, as what looked like a sheriff’s deputy jumped out of the SUV to join them.

  “Situation’s changed. Advance now!”

  “Roger that!”

  Dawson jumped up, rushing forward, his MP5K aiming at the first man about to enter. He fired, dropping the man. The second tripped over the first, but managed to roll inside the door. Flashes of weapons fire could be seen through the gaping door as Dawson pressed his advance. Gunfire from the left took out two of the attackers advancing from the right, and White’s gun belched out several shots, removing the deputy from the equation.

  “Niner, Jimmy, take the rear, eliminate that target. We’re going in.”

  “Roger that.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Niner and Jimmy dart across the cleared area in front of the cottage and toward the rear as Dawson’s boots hit the porch. Screams from inside, along with gunfire, had him rush through the door, Spock on his heels, White covering their rear. He crossed the threshold, indicating Spock take the right, and he turned left, toward the screams.

  He advanced quickly, weapon high, slightly hunched over and rounded a corner, entering what appeared to be an office, the one target that had managed to get inside firing shotgun blast after shotgun blast at a desk, behind which there were screams and cries in response. Dawson put his weapon against the back of the man’s head and squeezed the trigger, spraying his brain matter across the room.

  The corp
se dropped to the floor with a thud.

  “United States Military. Is Mrs. Morrison in here?”

  There was no reply, simply more crying, then suddenly a voice cut through it.

  “Y-yes, I’m here.”

  Agent White appeared to Dawson’s left, and he waved her forward.

  “Mrs. Morrison? I’m Agent White. Your husband sent us to extract you. Can you please lower any weapons you might have, and come out from behind the desk?”

  A burst of gunfire could be heard from outside which was met with more cries from behind the desk.

  “Final target eliminated. All clear,” came Niner’s voice.

  “The last hostile has been eliminated,” said Dawson. “You’re safe now.” He activated the comm. “Niner, call in the chopper.”

  “Roger that.”

  Within seconds he could hear the thumping of the massive blades as they sliced through the air, preparing to land in front of the cottage. A head poked out from behind the desk, revealing an exhausted woman, her face red and streaked with tears, her hands held up, shaking, as she emerged from their hiding place. Two more heads joined her as the adult children crawled out from under the desk.

  Agent White stepped forward, extending her gloved hand to Mrs. Morrison.

  “You’re safe now. Let’s get you to Langley.”

  Mrs. Morrison fell forward into White’s arms, hugging her as she sobbed “Thank you!” over and over, the two kids hugging them both. Dawson smiled, stepping forward to help move the huddle toward the chopper.

  “The sooner we’re out of here, the sooner you can all be reunited.”

  The mass broke apart, and he led them to the chopper, the rest of his team holding covering positions until the family was onboard. As they lifted into the air, Dawson couldn’t help but wonder if things like this were playing out all over the country, the victims not lucky enough to have a family member high enough in the government to warrant a CIA/Delta intervention.

  Things are going to get worse before they get better.

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Chris Leroux’s computer beeped an alert that had him flipping over to his inbox. His heart raced in excitement as he scanned the contents of the message just received, his jaw dropping with each new revelation. The deposits into the imposter Jessica “Mrs. Urban” Flowers and Mike “The Canister Planter” Milner had been traced back after several bounces to the same account. That account had backtracked through several more dummy corporations to a standard front corporation in the Cayman Islands. These were companies that acted as middlemen between the banks and other foreign individuals or companies. Their names would be on the bank files, but the funds, less a generous fee for the middlemen, would still be owned by the foreign entity.

  These were designed to try and stop computer traces in their tracks. With the digital trail dead, all transactions at this point in cash and in person, it was next to impossible to trace the money beyond the fronts. The fronts were doing nothing illegal according to Cayman Islands law, and the government was reluctant to change the rules, lest they lose the billions sheltered in their banks.

  But with the gloves off, according to the report, a two man team kidnapped the owner of the middleman company, forced him to open his paper files, and the hunt was back on. Several more bounces and they had their man.

  Scott Fowler.

  The name meant nothing to Leroux until he began to read the CIA and FBI files on the man, and his jaw hit the floor.

  “Holy shit!”

  He fired the name into his search algorithms to begin tracking down every financial transaction, sighting, phone conversation, email—anything that could be used to locate the man. This Fowler had to be found—fast. It would be difficult, but Leroux relished the thought of catching this bastard. He activated his final tracking routine, then grabbed the phone and dialed the Director’s office.

  “This is Leroux. I need to see him right away.”

  “He’s not available right now, can I take a message.”

  “It’s urgent; I’ve identified the guy behind this.”

  “He’s at the isolation ward, his family has just arrived. Do you—”

  “Tell him I’ll meet him there!”

  Leroux hung up the phone, printed off the file on Scott Fowler on his secure printer in his cubicle, then rushed toward isolation.

  I wonder if Sherrie is there?

  Quarantine Zone, CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  Leroux watched as two workers sprayed the hallway, starting at the ceiling and working their way down, then repeating the process, moving along about ten feet at a time.

  “What is that?” he asked the guard accompanying them.

  “Some sort of bleach solution. It’s supposed to pretty much kill anything. We’re going into a phased lockdown. Everyone gets tested. Once tested, you’re restricted to your zone and floor until the test results for your entire area come through. If you’re entire area is clear, then you’re allowed to move into adjacent cleared areas. If someone is infected, they are taken to quarantine, the area is cleaned again, and you’re all tested again in twenty four hours.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I hope He’s got nothing to do with this. If He does, I’m sensing some biblical wrath of God stuff coming on.”

  Leroux nodded, his eyes glued to the practiced technique of the men spraying the bleach.

  A knock at the glass had his head spinning. He smiled as he saw Sherrie waving to him. He opened the door and entered the room next to her isolation chamber, sitting down and grabbing the phone on the table.

  “How are you?” he asked, placing his bare hand on the glass.

  “I’m fine.” She pressed her hand against the glass as well. “It was pretty exciting if you know what I mean.” Her eyebrows bobbed up and down suggestively.

  Little Chris twitched.

  “Well, nothing we can do about that now.” He lowered his voice. “Did you see what it’s like on the outside?”

  She shook her head. “Not much. Where we were was pretty isolated, but from what I was seeing, law and order is starting to break down. We had to take out about ten guys trying to kill the Morrisons. It was crazy. One of them was a sheriff’s deputy!”

  “Man, I hope my parents are okay.”

  “You haven’t been able to reach them?”

  “We’re in a communications lockdown right now.”

  Sherrie fished something out of her pocket, then placed it against the glass. It was her personal cellphone; not company issue. She hit redial on the phone and he immediately recognized the number before she put the phone back in sleep mode.

  Mom and dad!

  She gave him a wink and he sighed in relief. At least now he knew they would know what was going on, that he was safe, and what they should do to be safe themselves. They had a chance.

  God I love her!

  “I’m stuck in here until I’m cleared. I guess they’re starting some isolation grid. They hope to have the entire building cleared within twenty-four hours.”

  “Yeah, I just heard. We might not see each other for a while.”

  A pout spread across her face.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Me too, hon.”

  She sucked in a breath then nodded at the folder he had brought with him.

  “Any luck with that intel I got you?”

  A smile beamed from Leroux’s face.

  “Absolutely! Thanks in no small part to you I found out who might be behind this. He pulled out the photo and held it up so she could see. “Meet Scott Fowler, the guy at the end of the trail.”

  Sherrie leaned forward. “Have you shown that to our imposter yet? He matches the description of the guy who recruited her.”

  “Not yet. I’ll do that as soon as I brief the Director.” He returned the photo to the file. “Oh, and you’ll never guess who Fowler used to work for.”

  The door behind Leroux opened as he asked the question.


  “Who?” asked the Director as he stepped inside.

  Leroux jumped up, bowing his head slightly.

  “Hello, sir. Sorry, I was waiting for you to finish with your family.”

  Morrison waved him off.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He approached the mirror and held his hand out for the phone Leroux still gripped. Leroux handed it to him. “Agent White, I just wanted to thank you for a job very well done. I just heard from my wife about the situation you faced, and it sounds like you not only arrived in the nick of time, but conducted yourselves bravely and effectively.”

  Sherrie was standing as well, almost at attention.

  “Thank you, sir. I had a good team, sir.”

  “Yes you did. One of the best. But it was your mission, and it was a success. I and my family thank you.” He handed the phone back to Leroux, then pointed at him. “You’re with me.” Morrison strode from the room, leaving Leroux torn between love and duty.

  “Go!” yelled Sherrie at his indecision.

  “Bye, sorry!” he said to the receiver, slamming it in its cradle as he blew her a kiss then raced after the Director who by now was at the elevators.

  “What have you found?” asked Morrison as they both entered the elevator.

  “I’ve traced the accounts back to a Scott Fowler,” said Leroux, handing the file to Morrison. “He’s a former Senior Vice President at BioDyne Pharma.”

  Morrison’s eyebrows shot up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaimed, jabbing his finger at the photo. “This is the same guy the FBI and Kane just identified as our cemetery man in New Orleans.” The doors opened not on the floor Leroux had expected. He followed Morrison, almost at a trot. “I need to see her,” he said to a pair of guards at the far end of a hall. He was buzzed through and a guard manning a desk was just getting up. “Never mind,” said Morrison, marching down to the only cell occupied today.

  He held up the photo of Scott Fowler to their prisoner.