by Lynda Filler
Luci looked around frantically. “Where is Tasha? Does she have any idea how dangerous he is?”
“She’s trained by the best. And she has the upper hand. Gregorki doesn’t know anything about her. Don’t panic. Let’s signal Luke that we will arrive tomorrow on Sying’s jet. That solves how we get into her private quarters. RB says that’s where the files and drives are kept. Something about Chopin’s Urn being the key to the vault.”
“Alright. The team’s already at the airport and should have a head start of a few hours before Sying arrives in Shanghai. I see Tasha now. She is talking with Sying and pointing in our direction. Smile and put your arms around me!”
Maggs laughed. “Luci, is this a good time to tell you I’m a lesbian?”
Luci rolled her eyes and smacked Magg’s ass. “Time to party. Let’s go!”
59
LUKE GAZED UP from the 56th floor at the twenty-nine-story interior atrium of The Grand Hyatt Shanghai.
“So, this is what two hundred and fifty million dollars will buy you? The top floor of the Jin Mao Grand Hyatt? That’s a long fall to the lobby!” Raven strategized with the guys in the bar.
“Sying’s floor is completely secure and off limits. But they don’t know that we’re coming for Li Ma. And we’re going to get her!”
Luke and his team lived for challenges.
First, they secured rooms under false passports with doctored photos. On the flight over, RB had acquired the real architectural drawings that Sying thought had been destroyed. From the plans, they located the safe in question and worked out their plan. A Chinese investment group owned the best security company in all of Asia. They’d performed the last upgrades to Sying’s Safe Room. One of its principals, hidden through a series of shell companies, was Luke Raven.
Akaarn manipulated the Hyatt’s database to ensure their suite of rooms were located directly below Sying’s private space. Akaarn was the group’s top technical expert, next to Luke; but he was also in great shape. He trained his body daily, hiking, biking, and spelunking in the Red Rocks of Arizona and Utah.
George was an explosives expert. His job was getting in quickly and discretely. If that didn’t work, he’d create a distraction.
Israel loved heights. One summer he spent a month climbing the Denali at Mount McKinley in Alaska. Israel wouldn’t stop until he reached the Summit. He was in charge of anything that might require being suspended in space and time.
“I’ve got an idea,” Israel posed. “It’s about the escape route. The Sikorsky will be here by midnight. I’ve been thinking.”
Everyone laughed.
“When Israel starts thinking, things often get squirrelly,” RB stated.
Luke stopped laughing and turned to Israel. “Let’s hear it.”
The plan was dicey at best. This mission would be performed on the 82nd floor of a very busy high-profile property. Lots of ways it could go wrong.
“Let’s hope for fog and quiet airways.”
“It’s ten o’clock here. What time is Sying arriving?”
“I’m following their flight path. I’d say close to 11:30. That’s tight Luke.
What’s the withdrawal plan for Maggs and Luci?”
They went over the plans again, to see if they needed to adjust anything.
The security of the United States of America was at stake here.
Failure was not an option.
60
LUKE WIPED SWEAT from his brow. He used a laser device to cut through the ventilation ducts to reach the elevator shaft. Due to the height of the building and earthquake safety measures, there was enough space and movement between the floors. Following the diagrams, they made their way to the elevator shaft and drilled through to create an opening inside. When not in use, the elevator remained inaccessible between the 84th and 85th floors. Exactly where they wanted it.
Inside, with their computer technology, it was easy to bypass all controls and move the car upwards to open into Sying’s suite. From Luke’s access to the satellite permanently monitoring Sying’s office and home, he knew the entire floor was empty.
He disabled all security. After all, he’d designed Sying's system. And together the team made their way to her Safe Room. Touching the laser key under Chopin’s Urn, the mirrored wall slid open.
“Cutting it close boss. My tracking device says they’ve landed and ETA eight minutes.”
“Akaarn, is this what you need?”
“Let me check. Yes, it all seems to be here. The list, the thumb drives. Each coded and ready to send.”
From outside they heard a commotion. George was pounding on the door.
“What’s up?”
“The elevator, boss. It’s gone. They must have remotely moved it. She hasn’t arrived yet in the garage. Did you put the top back together?”
“No, didn’t want to slow down our escape. The panel is here.”
“Okay, Plan B. We go up. Close the Safe Room. Contact the Sikorsky. Tell them to stand by while we figure out how to get out. What’s on the floor above? And how do we get there?”
“Take a side exit from that room over there. It’s a hidden door that no one can see from the other side, a steel panel.”
“Text Luci’s watch. Just write “B.” We went over this yesterday.”
“Text the S-97 plan B.”
As they raced towards the exit, the elevator opened. Two guys with AK-47’s opened fire. George took out one, Israel the other. The elevator doors slid shut with both bodies inside and started its high-speed descent.
They punched through the security on the back entrance and made their way through a locked and blocked stairway.
“I’m on the Hotel App. It’s tracking our steps. We go to the right, and around the corner is the gym. It’s open 24/7, but the spa area is closed. We go there. Outside there is a small private patio where Sying likes to sunbathe nude. I’ve watched her.”
“’Luke, you horn-dog!” The boys laughed.
“Akaarn, get the S-97.”
Out on the private deck, they could barely make out the Sikorsky hovering nearby.
“Break through that lock. Quick. I see armed bodies on my watch app making their way up here. C-4 that door!”
“There’s our ride. Let’s grab on!”
The boys jumped, one hand catching their harnesses, the other holding their guns. No time for buckles or safety features. What they needed was a lot of luck.
They were raised quickly into the body of the Helicopter as explosions rocked the floor and the windows of the Spa. Two minutes later, machine guns fired at the Sikorsky.
“Let’s see if this design of yours can withstand the firepower, Luke.”
The S-97 roared up and over the top of the Jin Mao Tower out of sight in the fog and secure on the North side of the building.
61
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Luci screamed.
Maggs taking her cue started crying.
“Don’t cry baby, momma will take care of you.” Maggs swooned into Luci’s arms.
Sying was wholly absorbed by the blood and gaping wounds on her two security guards. She screeched to her other bodyguards to drag the bodies from the elevator.
“Get those useless pieces of crap out of here! Now! Get up to my suite and find out what’s happening! We will stay here until it’s all clear.”
“Ms. Sying, I will stay with you and protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.” She pulled a Sig Sauer from her Dior bag.
“Can’t you see my Tasha is frightened, and my guests are horrified! Go!”
They entered the elevator, and as the doors closed, Maggs fainted.
“What’s wrong with that girl?” Sying screamed.
“Absolutely nothing,” Tasha whispered as she shoved a sharp-edged stiletto to the right of Sying’s heart. She encountered minimum resistance, but she was sure the job was done when Sying’s gun fell from her grip.
“Come on ladies, there are security cam
s everywhere.”
“If I know Akaarn he has disabled them all.” Maggs bragged.
They raced to Sying’s ride, the keys right where Tasha had watched the chauffeur place them and dashed out of the underground.
Luci checked her watch. Typed in her co-ordinates.
Two minutes later.
“There!
Take a right. Pull up here.”
The S-97 dropped from the sky.
All the streetlights were red.
The block was utterly devoid of vehicles.
A perfect landing-zone.
62
Somewhere over the Pacific
“HAVE YOU MADE the connection yet?”
“Here you go, Luke.”
“Looks like Kim is about to have a heart attack! Something about a lot of missing funds and no information.”
“What about the Sheik?” Tasha knew he kept a new supply of thirteen-year-old girls from Russia in his harem. They were known to disappear frequently. He was an HVT for her.
“I don’t believe it!” Luke laughed. “He’s crying!”
Surveillance on Sying’s defunct phone showed twenty-five missed calls from Tariq. He was next on their list.
“And Sying?” Zach looked around for confirmation.
“Tasha knifed her.”
“But did you double check?”
“It wasn’t necessary. She collapsed on the ground. Her security was dead, and we had to leave in a hurry. There’s no way she could have survived.”
“Rest without peace both Sying and Gregorki!” Tasha raised her glass of orange juice.
“Good job everyone. For those who haven’t met Tasha, she’s part of our team of security specialists in NYC. We’re trying to get her relocated to the West Coast.
And what about you Luci? Do you think it might be time to get back to work?”
Luci brushed a tear from her eye as she thought of Alice and Lorena. Her life had changed once more. With this high-profile job, she was likely to show up in Mossad’s database, again. How was she going to look after Alice?
“I have an idea for Lorena and Alice.” Luci looked up surprised.
“You know Lorena?”
“Of course. Zach brought her in. She works with us.” Luke hesitated and then decided to give it his best shot.
“We can look after you, Samaar,” Luke whispered, his eyes offering so much more.
“Welcome home.”
Epilogue
“RAVEN, SORRY TO interrupt this love-fest.” RB broke in.
Samaar held back tears and smiled at her new team.
“This just came over the wire!”
NYSE Halts Trading After Technical Error
"We're currently experiencing a technical issue that we're working to resolve as quickly as possible," Ms. Arnold, an NYSE spokeswoman, told Bloomberg. "We will be providing further updates as soon as we can and are doing our utmost to produce a swift resolution, communicate thoroughly and transparently, and ensure a timely and orderly market re-opening."
Earlier in the day, United Airlines temporarily grounded all planes worldwide over a "network connectivity issue." About 4,900 flights were affected.
By noon, The Wall Street Journal's website had crashed. A 504-error message displayed when visitors attempted to reach the site.
There is "no indication" that the NYSE glitch is related to a cyber-attack, a Department of Homeland Security official said. However, the cause of the glitch could not be determined immediately.
The End
For the next adventure of Luci, and the Raven Group, here’s an excerpt from ABDUCTED a Code Raven Book 2:
1
Guadalajara, Mexico
“CONTADOR! UNACCEPTABLE! I entrusted you with my funds. You promised my money would be safe. Then you invest in this chicken shit country China! CHINA!” The accountant cringed and prayed El Guapo was not calling him from Guadalajara.
“Alejandro, China is an emerging nation. It represents twenty percent of the world’s population. They make all the Apple products! And you know how well we have done with your Apple investments.” The accountant wiped his dripping sweat off the top of his grandfather’s Castilian desk.
“It’s going to be okay, you will see. Give it time.”
“I don’t have time. I need that money now! You were supposed to show me an eighteen percent return on investment by June thirtieth. I need that fifty million for a business deal in Russia!”
“I know. You’re right Alex. I promise I will make good on this.”
“Your time is running out. I will see you this weekend in Vallarta, yes? Make sure you have the solution to your problem.”
The Contador calmly placed his cell phone on his desk. He looked out the window of his high-rise office in Zapopan, Mexico. He was getting too old for this stress. Even though he was only in his early fifties, he seemed to be shrinking and expanding in the wrong places! His family was direct descendants of Spain, and he still carried the regal bearing, as did his father before him. But he had aged ten years over the last couple of years. Too much Don Julio, too many Tacos at midnight and too much El Guapo!
He wanted to say no when El Guapo came to him for investment advice. He sighed audibly. But saying no to the leader of Mexico’s most powerful cartel was not an option.
At that moment, the door to his office blew open.
“Papa, what’s up? You wanted to talk to me?”
“Gabriel! You could knock. I’m an old man, you frightened me.”
The accountant pulled his son into his arms and held on tight.
“What’s wrong Papa? You’re sweating. Is your heart okay? Mama said you’re having palpitations. You need to stop smoking and drinking.”
“Just shoot me then.” Papa and son laughed.
“What do you want with me? I’m happy that school is finally over.”
“It’s not every day my son graduates from the Stanford MBA program. I wanted to congratulate you and give you this.” The accountant handed his son an envelope.
Opening it, Gabriel read the contents slowly and then looked up.
“What is this Papa?”
“It’s the information for an account I have set up for you in the Grand Cayman Islands. It’s a clean corporation, untraceable. No one knows anything about this. That money is yours to do with as you wish.”
“But ten million US dollars? Dollars?”
“It’s your graduation gift hijo. You are my only son. Now memorize the information. Always keep your passport with you. And these copies I made, save in a very safe place. In case anything happens to me, there is a second account attached to this for your mother. You can access the funds in person with proof of my death.
“You’re scaring me, Papa.”
“No, it’s not like that. You are the man of the family. It’s time you take your place in the business, and I need to know that you will look after your mother should something happen to me. It’s normal to be prepared for family, no?”
“Si, Papa, si.”
They embraced for a few moments.
“Now tell me, son, how is the beautiful Allegra?”
2
Buenos Aires, Argentina
DR. EMIL ROTHSTEIN was no stranger to violence. His parents escaped from Poland one day ahead of the selection for the train to Auschwitz. He’d listened to the stories as a young child and still shivered at the memories. He read everything he could about the Holocaust and the eventual capture of Adolf Eichmann by the Mossad in Argentina in 1960.
When he was young, he dreamed of being part of the Jewish nation of Israel. His parents had other plans for him. He abided by their wishes like a good Jewish boy, stayed in Argentina, and became known the world over for his groundbreaking work in cosmetic surgery. Still, at heart, he loved Israel, and the Doctor hoped in retirement to talk his wife into going home.
He pulled into a parking lot at the side of a discreet three-story mansion in a quiet, exclusive suburb of Buenos Aires. The t
hree military-clad security guards were a not-uncommon occurrence in this part of the world. Many of his patients required secrecy and seclusion. Still, for a man who was known for re-constructing damaged faces, the sight of AK-47’s held forcefully, and aimed directly at him, was disconcerting. They relaxed slightly upon recognition of the good doctor.
A guard accompanied him to a secure area where the most private and privileged clients convalesced.
“How are you doing today Mme Anjou?” An elegant Chinese woman stood poised in the latest Paris fashions. Her long black hair had an impressive streak of white, more than likely the result of past trauma. In her late twenties, these unique features merely added to her mystique. She looked demure, but the doctor recognized her for what she was.
“Fine thanks. I expect to leave your premises in the next few days.”
“Well, I think you are certainly ready.”
“The successful reconstruction of my face has pleased me greatly.”
Dr. Rothstein hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“I have a family you know. A wife, a daughter and twin grandchildren.”
Mme Anjou waited.
“I don’t suppose you might reconsider.”
Mme Anjou raised her arm. Her Glock was pointed directly at his heart.
“I’m sorry doctor, but your work here is done. And mine has just begun.”
3
Guadalajara, Mexico
THE JUDGE ADJUSTED his tuxedo and smiled at the pudgy figure in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. He twisted his charcoal black mustache and ran his fingers through his well-groomed mane of silver hair. He tried to emulate the movie stars of the forties, suave and sophisticated, even though he stood five feet tall and weighed over 91 kilos.
The Presidential Suite at the Westin Guadalajara was appointed with all one would expect for the elite of Mexican society. The furnishings were imported from Italy. The bar first class. He sipped his Patrón and clipped the end of a Cuban cigar.