by JT Brannan
‘There’s one more thing we were able to find out,’ he continued at length, ‘and at the moment we are awaiting secondary confirmation.’ He cleared his throat. ‘There are rumours circulating that Danko and Feng are already talking about a strategic alliance of their own.’ Hansard was gratified by the open shock now expressed around the table.
‘Yes,’ he carried on, ‘it appears that a new eastern bloc might be emerging, with the combined power of the Russian Federation and the People’s Republic of China, with interests and intentions aligned against those of the United States.’
‘Damn,’ breathed the Vice President, ‘it’ll be like the whole damned Cold War all over again.’
Thanks Richard, Hansard thought silently, as he saw the effect Richard Jensen’s words had on the men and women in the room, people already starting to shift nervously in their seats.
Ellen Abrams looked sombrely about the room, shocked but dignified as always. ‘Then Heaven help us all,’ she said with genuine feeling.
73
Back in his office at the ODNI, Hansard was drinking his fourth cognac of the day, more than normal – although he might soon have to address what constituted normal, he decided.
The meeting had gone well of course, and the plan was still well on track, but the situation with Cole and his family was nagging at him uncontrollably. He had no idea where Mark Cole was, and Sarah and the children had somehow managed to escape from the train, and there was now no trace of any of them.
He finished his glass and was reaching for the bottle when his computer bleeped at him. He glanced at it briefly, and then his head snapped back.
A systems breech? What the hell is this?
He tapped some buttons, and all was revealed. Someone was downloading all – all! – of his files, including his secure communications records.
Cole. It had to be Cole.
Hansard picked up the phone on his desk, calling through to Max Wilborough, the head tech who designed his system security. ‘Max,’ Hansard said forcefully, ‘there’s been a breech. Track the source. Now.’
74
Cole had not touched the new cup of coffee since it had been put down next to him nearly an hour before. His entire focus had been on the laptop computer in front of him, and the time had flashed by in an instant.
He could simply not believe what he had discovered. Was Hansard insane?
On one level it was brilliant, of course; but anyone who would come up with such a plan – much less actually go through with it – was without a doubt suffering from some sort of mental illness.
And now the whole world might suffer for it, Cole realized with dread.
Cole snapped back to reality when a red light started to flash intermittently on the screen. Shit. The breech had been caught; he had kept it open too long.
He didn’t know how long ago it was discovered, but files were starting to be deleted. He immediately started downloading the most important information to a secure host, where he would hopefully be able to access it again later.
Next, he slowly raised his head to check the surrounding area. If Hansard was aware that his system had been corrupted, he might be able to trace the source of the cyber attack. Agents might already be on their way.
He turned his head back to the screen and watched as the information was transferred from the laptop to his secure computer vault back in the Caymans.
The question now, was what should he do with it?
75
Agents were on their way. It hadn’t taken long for Wilborough to track down the source – first to Germany, then to Munich, then to the Fünf Höfe, and finally to the Café Tyrol on the centre’s second level.
There were eight American agents in Munich that could be relied upon. None from the SRG, but that would have been hoping for too much.
As it was, at least the eight men available were from the DIA, an agency under the directorship of Hansard’s friend and fellow alumni member Jerry Adams. As such, they were also part of the US security net that had been spread throughout Europe. They were not part of Hansard’s inner circle, but they were loyal, and would follow his orders to execute Cole with no questions asked.
And there was not a doubt in Hansard’s mind that the man needed to be killed – and killed quickly, at that.
Because if he had read the files as well as just downloading them, Cole would now know everything about Hansard’s plan, and his ultimate goals. And Hansard was sure that the man would now try and do everything in his power to stop him.
76
Cole’s head moved constantly. He would look down at the lower concourse, sweep the floor, then go back up to the upper level, following the wrap-around balcony that stretched from the café all around this level. Finally, he would look down at the laptop for an update on the download. There were three minutes remaining.
It wasn’t that the computer was slow; rather, there was such a large amount of information to be transferred. Hansard had managed to delete some files – and now Cole would probably never learn what had been on them – but the ones Cole had already opened and read, and with which he had pieced together Hansard’s crazed plan, were now being saved for future use.
If he still had a future, Cole thought grimly, performing yet another visual sweep of the mall. Hansard would almost certainly have put a trace on the source of the security breech, and Cole knew there might well be agents on their way right now. He didn’t know what assets Hansard had in Germany, but the man’s reach was vast.
Two minutes left. Cole scanned again, his mind doing cartwheels. It wasn’t just Hansard’s lunatic scheme that concerned him; it was other orders and communications that he had found buried in Hansard’s system.
It appeared that there had been a team waiting for his family back in the Caymans, with original orders to kill his wife and children once he himself had been taken care of. Cole was relieved to see that this had been rescinded to a tailing order only, presumably in the hope that Sarah would lead Hansard’s agents to Cole.
It appeared so far that the team had failed to locate them, but Cole didn’t know how up-to-date such communications were, or if the latest updates were amongst the files deleted by Hansard.
The leader of the team was Dan Albright, and this alone was enough to give Cole cause for grave concern. The blond pretty-boy was a stone-cold psychopath, so much so that –
Movement to his right lower corner. His head turned and he picked up two men in suits hurrying through the main entrance foyer in the lower concourse. Possibly just businessmen late for a meeting, but then they looked up, scanning the mall, looking for … him.
Shit. Two more on the far side of the balcony on this level. He adjusted himself in his seat.
Another two on this same level, on the near side of the balcony. Six so far, and he had no idea if there would be more. As it was, they were already boxing him in.
He had let himself be distracted, his attention divided between Hansard’s plan, and worry about his family. He should have concentrated on the job at hand, and picked the men up earlier, but now was not the time for recriminations; now was the time to act.
77
Michael Porter looked up at the café on the level above and to the front of him, scanning the clientele. There. One man sat by the balcony, casually performing a scan of the crowds as if he was just taking a momentary rest from staring at the computer screen in front of him.
The man’s face wasn’t an exact match to the picture Hansard had sent through to his cell phone, but it was close enough. Mark Cole. According to Hansard, although the man was supposed to be a diving instructor from the Caymans, he was really a terrorist, a radical convert to Islam. This was the man who had killed some of his colleagues back in London, and was an adversary to be cautious about. Not to be feared – Porter was too much a professional for that – but definitely someone to be careful with.
He checked to his left upper corner and saw two of his men approaching from that side, t
hen checked his upper right and saw two more agents converging on the café. He had a further two men approaching through the coffee shop itself, whilst he and his own partner would approach via the escalator, completely blocking off all hope of Cole’s escape.
78
Cole glanced again at his laptop. One minute left.
He turned in his chair, checking the café. Two more agents were coming towards him, dressed smart casual, jackets but no ties. Open jackets, with easy access to their handguns.
Were they just going to blow him away in the middle of a shopping mall? If Hansard thought Cole had discovered his plan, then it would be a resounding yes. Hansard would have given the order for Cole’s death, and would worry about the legal niceties later.
Cole hadn’t reacted to seeing the men, and doubted they were aware that he knew they were there. That would make things easier.
Thirty seconds.
Two pairs on each side of the upper concourse, converging on him. One pair approaching the double escalator from the lower level. One pair behind him, close now.
He could see the reflection of the two men behind him in the screen of his laptop now, could see them withdraw their short-barrelled H&K semi-automatic handguns from their concealed holsters, holding them down against their thighs so as not to alarm the other customers. It was evening, the sky pitch black outside, but the mall was still busy, and Cole knew the agents would wait until the last minute before making their move.
Ten seconds.
79
Porter saw his two men on the coffee shop balcony draw their weapons, sidling up close to their target, who seemed oblivious to their presence.
Hansard’s orders were clear. Mark Cole was to be executed on the spot. He was known to have evaded agents in the past, and Hansard was adamant that no chances should be taken.
The mall itself had its own security guards, but they would be unarmed, and unlikely to challenge armed men. Porter therefore expected the first two men on the scene to shoot Cole cleanly in the head at point blank range, and make their way casually from the area.
If the police were to show and somehow get involved, they were to offer no resistance; Hansard assured them that he would sort everything out if they were caught. Mark Cole was, after all, an internationally wanted terrorist fugitive.
Porter had asked Hansard about getting the local police involved, but Hansard had thought this a bad idea, not wanting to bog the operation down by including too many people. Porter decided he was right; operations often failed for that very reason, and Porter knew that they could not allow this mission to fail.
80
Cole checked again the positions of the men moving in against him.
The two men on the balcony near side were now almost at the café, and the pair on the far side were making rapid progress. The pair from the lower concourse were now on the escalator, halfway up.
The pair behind him were coming up to within arms reach. Cole steadied his breathing as their pistols came up, aiming towards the back of his head.
He glanced at the laptop.
Download complete.
Cole pivoted downwards from his chair, taking his head out of the target zone, before grabbing the laptop and exploding back upwards. He swung the computer in a tight arc, smashing the unit into the head of the man on his right-hand side.
The laptop shattered with the impact, which knocked the agent out cold, and in the same instant, Cole’s left hand dropped onto the second man’s right wrist, deflecting the gun down and away from him.
The man squeezed the trigger, and although the 9mm round discharged harmlessly into the concrete floor, the effect of the supersonic crack was electric.
Customers in the café leapt out of their seats, pointing, staring and screaming. ‘Pistole!’ shouted one, and then the panic really started, especially when they watched as Cole dipped his legs and shoved his right arm in between the agent’s thighs, pulling him up and over his shoulders in a modified fireman’s lift; modified only in that instead of keeping the man on his shoulders, he kept the movement going and threw the man violently off the opposite shoulder and straight over the balcony.
The mall fell silent as the man went over the side, so that his piercing scream was all that was heard, until it too was silenced as he crashed through the circular glass roof of the flower stall beneath.
The sound of breaking glass set everyone off again, and now even those customers who had not reacted to the gunshot were in wild-eyed panic, and a mass exodus of screaming men, women and children stormed the exits.
81
Porter watched with disbelief as he saw first one man go down, then the second spiralling over the balcony. What the hell?!
He and his partner broke into a sprint up the escalator, Porter’s hand microphone going up to his mouth. ‘Go, go, go!’ he ordered the other two pairs above him. ‘Take him down!’
Cole saw the other two pairs push their way past the surging crowds, drawing their own weapons, no longer interested in subtlety.
Cole dropped down as the nearest pair opened fire, peppering the area with 9mm rounds. The bullets ricocheted off the balcony’s steel support columns and shattered the glass between, showering down on Cole and lacerating his hands and face.
Cole spotted the handgun of the first agent he had taken out, on the floor just next to the man’s prone body. He grabbed it up, rising to a crouch and letting loose half the magazine, forcing the pair to duck for cover of their own.
Cole switched to his other side, where the other pair were now aiming their weapons towards him, and emptied the rest of the magazine at them.
The pistol slide clicked forwards, empty, and Cole wasted no time in placing his hands on the balcony support rail in front of him and swinging both legs over the side, vaulting it in one fluid motion.
82
Porter looked on wide eyed as he reached the second floor, just in time to see his quarry jump straight over the balcony.
He and the other agents rushed forwards, and saw Cole gripping hold of the flexible branches of the huge Christmas tree below, swinging wildly from side to side as he tried to steady himself.
The agents leaned over the barrier with their weapons and unloaded at the escaping target, and the tree erupted in the hail of fire, lights exploding and decorations disintegrating.
Cole was protected by the massive embrace of the tree itself though, and before long had reached the first floor of the mall, having dropped from branch to branch down the massive pine.
Porter watched as Cole sprinted away from the tree, into the crowds surging for the exit.
He saw movement from his side, and quickly deflected the gun arm of his partner. ‘No!’ he warned. ‘He’s too close to the crowds. Let’s go!’ he ordered, and the six agents raced back towards the escalators.
83
Cole couldn’t believe he had managed to avoid the gunfire of Hansard’s agents. He had hoped the tree would afford him some protection, but had not realized quite how thick its shrubbery was.
The pine needles had been sharp, however, and he now had them embedded in his hands and face, to go with the cuts from the broken glass from the balcony. The fall also hadn’t helped his bruised ribs, which were still not properly healed.
Now he was joining the crowds though, on his way out of the mall, and he knew that the agents couldn’t risk taking any more shots at him. He had a good head start, and would set out straight into the sprawling Christmas market outside, losing the agents there and –
The air was knocked out of him as the security guard tackled him from the side, blasting him sideways and down to the hard floor, landing with his heavy body on top of him.
Cole’s head turned, and he saw two more uniformed guards racing in from the other side. He head butted the man above him, managing to disorientate him for long enough to roll him off the side, slipping two fingers into the base of the man’s neck and rendering him instantly unconscious.
The other gu
ards were on him now, their steel batons fully extended and rearing back to strike.
Cole blasted in towards the guard on the right, intercepting the man’s raised arm before he had a chance to swing the weapon back towards Cole. At the same instant, he unleashed a straight punch to the guard’s jaw. It didn’t knock the man out, but dazed him enough for Cole to grab the man’s collar and turn him into the path of the second guard.
The second man’s baton struck his comrade, now used by Cole as a shield, directly across the face, causing a sickening crack, and Cole capitalized on the man’s shock by planting a heavy front kick straight into his gut, blasting him backwards across the concourse.
Cole flinched as a chip of concrete flew up from the floor at him, and he sprinted for the big glass exit doors as bullets traced their way towards him, not even glancing over his shoulder.
He knew the agents would be right behind him, closing in.
84
Cole broke out into the clean, crisp night, watching as the crowds that had recently been inside the Fünf Höfe dispersed through the surrounding streets. There were some curious onlookers who had stopped, nervously staring back at the arched entranceway, wondering if they would see any more of the carnage they had witnessed inside, but most of the people were heading away from the mall as quickly as they could.
Cole was on Theatinerstrasse, a long straight road that led from the mall entrance right down to the Marienplatz precinct and the Munich Christmas market. The world famous market used to run only from Advent to Christmas Eve, but had for the past two years extended its run until New Year; it was simply too valuable to Munich’s tourist economy to limit it to the traditional period alone.