Luther moved row by row until he could just see the men who worked in the facility. He raised the tranquilizer gun and was about to shoot when he saw the familiar nondescript suits favored by feds. Two men were talking to the workers, who wore blue jumpsuits. There was no sign of any security guard. The two feds wore shades and seemed to be asking questions. Luther wasn’t sure what agency they were with but his gut told him CIA.
“Agency’s here,” said Luther into his radio in a very low voice.
“E-1?” asked Alex just as quietly.
“Don’t think so. I’d guess CIA, but only two,” said Luther. “I think your terror alert has come back to bite us in the ass. There’s probably a directive to check all old and new facilities.”
“Kilmer,” said Alex. “He’s desperate.”
“And smart,” said Luther.
“I’m at the wall,” said Alex. “Take them.”
Luther lowered the radio and raised the tranq gun again. He had it trained on the bigger of the two agents, who wore a gray suit, when he felt someone behind him.
Luther turned and raised a foot into the face of a security guard, who’d been in the men’s room. Luther’s foot connected with his jaw, and he dropped. As the man was falling, Luther pumped a tranquilizer dart into his chest. He was out before he hit the floor. Luther had to move. The noise would have alerted the agents. He ran several stacks over, keeping low. Then he heard a door open and footsteps as the two file room workers left the room. Luther didn’t have much time. He had to take them now.
He moved away from Alex, making noise and hoping that this would buy some time. He went another few stacks over, but he sensed only one man following his movement. Where was the other agent? Had he discovered Alex? Luther didn’t hear any gunfire or fighting, so he assumed that this was not the case. Still, he’d lost the second agent and didn’t know how. He kept moving. Soon he’d run out of room, and they would have him.
Luther wanted to take out the big guy first but couldn’t tell which shadowy figure he was. Then he caught a glimpse of someone in an open space in a midlevel shelf two stacks over. It was the other agent, the smaller one, who wore a blue suit.
If Luther was quick, he could catch the man as he came around the end of the row. He would be at a distance, but he could take him. Luther moved to the end of his row and ran toward the advancing figure. Luther shot him in the neck with a dart, and the man fell on his face.
Luther sensed the other man above him before he could make his move. The big agent had climbed onto the top of a row and was moving parallel to his partner, a brilliant tactic that made him seem as if he were gone from the chase. Luther lunged into the metal shelf, and the CIA agent fired a shot that missed. The stack tilted, and the man fell. He was agile enough to land on his feet, but not without dropping his weapon. Before Luther could hit him with a dart, the CIA man kicked the tranq gun from his hand.
The two men faced each other. The agent attacked swiftly, with a kick that just missed. Luther threw a backhand punch that was wide, and he paid for it when the agent spun low and hit him in the back. Luther recovered and turned to face his nemesis. The agent attacked again and hit Luther with a combination of punches that brought him to his knees. Then the agent made the mistake of trying to finish Luther off with his gun. He leaped to retrieve it, but by the time he had his hand on it, Luther was on him. First Luther kicked the gun away and with the same foot kicked the agent in the face. The agent rolled backward and attempted to get to his feet, but Luther had taken a stride and sent a side kick that lifted the agent into the air and slammed him into a wall. Luther quickly ran back and got his tranquilizer gun, shooting the agent before he could recover.
Luther then ran to the northeast corner of the place to see how Alex was doing. When he got there, he saw a hole at the base of the wall. Whatever had been there was gone.
And so was Alex.
Luther heard a noise from the front of the room, and then he remembered the two file-room workers. He raced to the back of the place and climbed into the little door hidden in the floor. Luther moved down the old exit into the basement, across to the new building, then out. They would probably find the exit, but it wouldn’t matter.
Luther walked out of the abandoned building and then ran to his Ford, which was still parked in the alley. But when he got there, he found no sign of Alex. He was gone.
Luther cursed silently. What was he up to now? Luther was about to climb into the Ford when he saw a police cruiser roll into the alley.
“Police!” said a voice over the car’s speaker system. “Stop right there!”
The police dispersed the crowd that was trying to form on the street where the Green house was located. People from the surrounding neighborhood had seen or heard the commotion and came out of their houses in droves. The local news stations were also there in force, and at least one news copter was circling the event.
Frank still had a clear shot at the Green house two streets away. The police had secured that street and the next one over. They were between him and his target, but he could still get the kill if he wanted.
Frank breathed evenly as he waited for the police to make their way to the Green house. Someone inside had already come to the door to see what the commotion was about but was told by a police officer to go back in. It was clear that the FBI was leading this exercise, but the local cops were arrogant and determined to have some measure of authority.
“What the hell are they waiting for?” said Frank.
“They have to find the bomb,” said Kam, who had doubled back and joined them.
“There’s no bomb,” said Frank. “It’s a hoax designed to stall us, but Luther should’ve known better. When they come out of that house, I’ll take the first face I see.”
“There’s a bomb,” said Sharon. “Luther wouldn’t engage in this kind of major distraction if there wasn’t a real threat. It defeats his purpose.”
“Makes sense,” Kam joined in. “If nothing else, Green is thorough.”
Frank argued with them until a young cop on the bomb squad yelled to his team that he’d found something. In the backseat of an abandoned car, right next door to the Green house, was an explosive device. This information came over the local police band. The already high tension soared even higher. The crowd backed away en masse, and the police intensified the evacuation process.
“We should pack it in,” said Sharon.
“No,” said Frank. “I still have a shot.”
“We can’t risk it this close to the action,” said Sharon. “You make a kill in this atmosphere, and we’ll be exposed. There’s a helicopter up there.”
“I’d take the shot,” said Kam.
“You would,” said Sharon.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kam demanded angrily.
“It means that your personal feelings about the wolf are not appreciated here,” said Sharon.
“Me?” said Kam. “You’re his best buddy. If anyone is conflicted, it’s you, lady.”
Sharon turned on Kam, looking murderous. She hated the implication that she was not professional, but even more than that, she didn’t like being called “lady.”
“Enough,” said Frank. “It’s my mission to lead, and I’m taking the shot.”
The officers on the bomb squad related the news, and the officers working crowd control moved any remaining spectators away. Another group continued to empty each house of its occupants. Soon a team of cops walked to the Green house. They stood in the doorway as the shocked family members moved toward the door.
Mary came out first.
She looked scared as she emerged from the house into the bright sun. Frank settled the crosshairs on her head and squeezed the trigger.
Luther froze as the cops got out of the police cruiser. In the front of the building, more police poured in Luther carried a bag with equipment in it and was dirty from being in the basement. He could take them easily, but he felt there might not be any ne
ed.
“What’s going on, Officers?” he asked. One of the cops checked the city sticker on his Ford while the other approached him, hand on his sidearm.
“We got a problem next door,” said a young black officer.
“What kind of problem?” Luther sounded scared.
“Nothing to worry about,” said the black cop. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I got a problem in this building,” said Luther. “Damned thing’s falling down. Scheduled for demolition, but it’s so close to this other place that we’re going to have to collapse it. That’s where we level the far side and let it fall on itself away from the other structure. See, we do that by—”
“He’s got a city inspector’s sticker,” said the other cop, a plump white woman.
“You need ID or something?” asked Luther.
The black cop thought for only a moment, then said, “Have you seen anything unusual in the last hour or so?”
“Nope, just big-ass rats in the basement,” said Luther.
“You’d better get out of here,” said the cop.
Luther smiled and complied. He got into the Ford and drove away. He’d succeeded in not killing anyone, but he’d lost Alex.
Mary Green stepped onto the stone porch of her mother’s house. She was scared and didn’t like the way the police were yelling at everyone. She raised her hand to brush some hair out of her face. The bracelet on her arm caught the sun and reflected it with a glare back into the morning.
Frank Hedgispeth caught a blinding flash of light in his scope as he squeezed the trigger. The reflection from Mary Green’s bracelet threw off his aim, and his shot missed by inches, hitting the forward wall of the Green house.
The cops yanked Mary to the ground and pulled out their weapons, looking around. The agitated atmosphere on the street grew even more intense as the Green family was ushered out of the house under police guard and into an FBI van. Since the bomb had been found next to their house, they would all be interrogated about anything suspicious.
In the van Frank was cursing loudly. He’d missed a clear shot. The cops were now all turning and pointing in his direction.
The van’s engine started, and Frank felt it lurch forward. He didn’t complain as Sharon pulled away from the scene as fast as she could. They easily escaped the scene before the cops found their empty lot.
Conspiracy Theory
Luther had listened to the news report on the bomb threat outside his mother’s house. This meant that his family was in custody, probably federal custody. Hampton had used Alex’s covert misdirection of anti-Arab sentiment and domestic terrorism against the kill team. They had even rewired Alex’s homemade bomb, careful to take off the BEP logo so that no one could trace it back to E-1.
There was a report that a shot had been fired at the bomb location, but it was unconfirmed. Luther knew that the kill team had taken that shot. Why they had missed was a mystery.
The other mystery was why Alex had run. Was the whole thing some kind of scam? No, Luther told himself, the African information was authentic, and, moreover, Luther still had it. Alex’s information was no good without it. Still, it wasn’t like Alex to panic.
Suddenly Luther’s short-range radio sounded. He immediately lifted it and spoke.
“Alex?” he said urgently. “Where are you?”
“That’s not important,” said Alex. The connection was very clear, and since the radios had a limited range, it meant that Alex was close by. Luther pulled the Ford over on Griswold Street and waited. It was illegal to park there, but he’d stay as long as he could. Alex was somewhere downtown.
“I can pick you up,” said Luther.
“No need,” said Alex. “I won’t be coming back. You have to complete this mission without me. The package is in the rear of your vehicle under the mat. Did you know that Rule 225 is derived from something Abraham Lincoln said?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I’m sure I’ll meet Lincoln one day.” Alex waited a moment then said, “I hope your family is safe.” With that he signed off.
Luther quickly went into the back of the Ford and found the package Alex had retrieved from the building. This was the last part of Schrier’s domestic information. Along with the Africa portion, Luther now had the entire conspiracy in his hands. He guessed that Alex didn’t want any more of the risk now that the mission was done. His mental stability was highly questionable. It was probably better that he go. Luther had the mantle now, and he would see that the information was used properly.
He got back into the Ford and drove away, headed for the inner city. He and Hampton had a prearranged place to meet The kill team knew he was still alive, and they’d be out looking for him.
Was Alex going to try to take out five or six E-1 agents by himself? He’d probably fail, but it was standard procedure. An attack was the one thing they would not expect. Luther didn’t know what he would do about that right now, but he did know that he had to read both sets of documents in order to finally understand just what he was up against.
Luther drove to a little neighborhood just south of the Davison Freeway on the east side, adjacent to Highland Park. He found Hampton waiting for him there in his car. Looking a little shaken, Hampton climbed into the Ford.
“Where’s Deavers?” he asked.
“He left,” said Luther.
“Goddamn it! That bastard, I should have shot him—”
“He left me the information, Hampton.”
“Oh…but why did he…? Well, I guess that’s okay.” Hampton calmed down. “What is he going to do?”
“I think he’s going to try to take out the kill team.”
“God be with him. So how many casualties did you have?”
“None,” said Luther, smiling. “I think it’s time we read all this stuff and find out just what the hell Kilmer’s hiding.”
Luther and Hampton put together all the information they’d collected. It had to be decoded and then read in order, but eventually the whole story emerged.
Dr. Jay Schrier had been one of Wells’s most trusted members. He had assisted the think tank in every endeavor, legal and illegal, over the seven years he’d worked there. Then his daughter became ill and died of leukemia. This changed everything for Dr. Schrier. He found religion and grew to dislike what his bosses were doing. When the Africa project was dreamed up by military and corporate types, he became deeply angry. There were so many good things they could be doing, and they’d chosen to decimate an entire continent.
The two sets of documents verified a plan to subvert and acquire major parts of Africa over the next half century. A large portion of this plan consisted of disabling the population and allow the United States to come in with an aid package as a cover for land acquisitions through governments they could control.
The scientific documents were the most damning of all. Ever a layman could understand the procedure that had been used and how it was systematically implemented. Names and dates were given, verifiable incidents recounted. Five major U.S. corporations knew about the project, along with certain high-level members of the Defense Department and, of course, the CIA.
What the information suggested was a nightmare, a crime monstrous enough to rival the greatest atrocities in the annals of history. Both parts of the package showed a scientific summary of how they’d done it. There was a lot of medical and technical detail, but the basic story told of two viruses, SIV and HIV. The former occurs in monkeys and does not harm humans. That I percent difference in our DNA makes humans immune to SIV, SIV is the older virus, and so it was assumed that HIV was a mutant form, but scientists could not figure out how it had mutated. That’s why the myth of a man having sex with a monkey had surfaced, thought Luther.
In reality the Wells people had found a procedure for mutating SIV. It was unstable, but they’d managed to infect a control group, then had that group infect a second group, then another and another. And all the time the ruthlessly efficient bastards
had kept killing the prior group until there was no trace of the lab mutation.
And then it got away from them.
It was supposed to be a controlled kill, a self-running, long-term, covert operation. But they fucked up. One of the generational mutated viruses got loose, and the whole thing went to hell.
Luther and Hampton finished their reading. It was all there. Kilmer had been a big proponent of the plan, along with several others from the military, the government, and big business. The group as a whole was referred to from time to time by Kilmer as the APG—Africa Project Group. They were resolute in their mission, and anyone who opposed them had been bought off or had just conveniently disappeared.
Hampton pulled out his laptop and a handheld scanner and quickly copied all the information into a file. Then he packed up both halves of the package.
“I’m going to call Kilmer and tell him what we have,” Luther announced.
“Why?” asked Hampton. “Let’s just go to the White House. We’ll both live longer.”
“But Kilmer has to deal. Even though the conspiracy was not completely government-backed, there were enough ties to embarrass the U.S. for decades and ensure a weakened global authority—not to mention the domestic impact.”
“I see your point. Political careers will be lost, special prosecutors assigned.”
“History will change,” said Luther.
“What about the kill team? What will Kilmer do with them?”
“I don’t know. They need to watch their backs with Alex out there. I’d warn them, but then again they did come to assassinate us.”
Luther took out his Ion. He hadn’t used it since he’d removed the tracking device. He was about to dial when he thought of something.
The Executioner's Game Page 18