by Alex Siegel
"And?"
"And the detonation was premature," Alpert said in a low tone. "The dam wasn't damaged."
"How could that happen?"
"A loose wire, an overheated battery, a leak in the hull. Who knows? We rushed the job at the end. There wasn't time for careful testing. I think we basically accomplished the objective, sir. The story is already creating plenty of buzz."
"I didn't pay a fortune for basic accomplishment," Burch said angrily. "I paid for a major disruption in California's water supply. I paid for thirsty citizens and withered crops. I paid for pathetic tales of woe. All I got is pretty fireworks instead."
"But, sir..."
"Did you hear me? As far as I'm concerned, you failed tonight, and you know the consequences of failure. Go to the backup plan. You're lucky you still have a chance to make amends."
Alpert paused. "Yes, sir."
"Good night!" Burch slammed the phone down.
He glared at the television and breathed deeply. Deep in his heart, he didn't believe the premature detonation had been an accident. The Gray Spear Society was responsible for foiling his plan. Somehow, they had picked up his scent and were circling like a pack of hungry wolves.
No, he thought. It's not possible. I can't let paranoia get the better of me.
Burch used a remote to turn off the television and the lights. He had important things to do tomorrow and needed sleep.
He laid down, but his eyes refused to close.
* * *
Marina and Aaron were staring at each other, and she didn't mind. Her lover was very handsome.
"I'm very troubled," he said. "This attack on the dam was obviously the work of skilled professionals. Building that submarine cost millions of dollars. The plan was so well executed, it took an act of God for us to stop it. Even the 'anonymous tip' at the end was perfectly timed. But I don't understand the motive. Why blow up the New Bullards Bar Dam? It's a very difficult and obscure target. We're not seeing the big picture."
She nodded. "Agreed."
The two commanders were almost alone in the San Francisco headquarters. Only Min Ho was still at his workstation. Imelda and Jia had gone home for the night, while Corrie had the night shift in the security booth.
Marina looked at Min Ho. The hacker had circles under his eyes, but he wasn't complaining. A veteran like him knew missions always involved long nights and little sleep. He was wearing a purple sweat suit with a blue sash around his waist, an odd combination. A steaming mug of tea was beside his keyboard.
He was typing quickly and staring at his computer screens. Marina looked over his shoulder and saw he was reading police reports.
"Got anything?" she said.
"Yes, ma'am," Min Ho said. "The feds identified the captured suspects as Yuram Rafsanjani and Mahmoud Kermani. They're high-ranking members of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard who entered the United States illegally. The attack on the dam is already being called an act of international terrorism. The goal was to disrupt the fresh water supply of California."
Aaron snorted. "I don't believe it for a second, but we'll have to talk to these terrorists to be sure."
"Tomorrow." Marina yawned.
"What's the story on these 'anonymous tips'?" Aaron asked Min Ho. "Where did they come from?"
Min Ho typed some more.
"They came through email," he said. "The routing was hacked. Figuring out the real source is going to be a pain."
"Tomorrow," Marina repeated. "The show is over for tonight. Let's sleep now and pick up the trail in the morning when we're fresh. Aaron, no more questions. Min Ho, go home."
"Yes, ma'am." Min Ho stood up and eagerly left.
Aaron took Marina's hand. "We're finally alone," he said. "It's a shame we're so tired."
"Yes." She kissed him. "Maybe we can do a quickie in the morning, but right now, I'm about to pass out. I hardly got any sleep last night."
Holding hands, they walked to her room.
* * *
Hanley woke up. He was lying in a bed in a motel room.
The pads on his palms were picking up the faintest sounds. He heard cars on the road as clearly as if he were standing in the middle of traffic. A small animal was rustling dead leaves outside the window. Somebody was snoring a few rooms away.
He looked over at his nightstand and saw a pen. That will work, he thought. He flicked the pen onto the floor. The impact created a wave of sound which filled the room. He heard echoes from walls, furniture, and other hard surfaces, and his brain automatically put the sounds together. He "saw" everything without needing to use his eyes. I can fight in the dark, he thought.
Hanley got out of bed and stretched his arms. The four legionnaires of the San Francisco team were staying in a bed and breakfast in Nevada City, California. The quaint accommodations were the best they had been able to find on short notice. Pink curtains covered the windows, and the bedspread had a lacy fringe. It was all a little embarrassing.
He grabbed his phone and called Marina. Before he did anything else, he needed to find out what his orders were.
"Good morning," the commander said.
"Good morning, ma'am," Hanley said. "What's the plan for today?"
"Come to Sacramento, and tell the others to do the same. Aaron and I are going to retrieve the two men who were arrested last night. We'll all get together for the interrogation."
"But they were in police custody."
"Actually, the FBI has them now," Marina said, "and they're being held in the Sacramento County Jail, but that's not a problem. Min Ho put together fake transfer orders."
"Who are they?"
"Iranian terrorists, or at least that's what we're supposed to believe. We'll get the truth out of them."
Hanley grimaced. Her preferred methods for extracting the truth were horrifying. She knew a thousand ways to cause unbearable pain.
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'll see you in Sacramento."
"Bye," Marina said.
* * *
Aaron and Marina were waiting in a parking lot behind the Sacramento County Jail. The impressive facility was about fifteen stories tall and certainly looked like a nasty place. Bare, concrete walls lacked any color or decoration. Everything was a dirty gray. Most of the windows were just horizontal slits far too narrow to squeeze through.
The two commanders were wearing FBI tactical gear. Green body armor was on top of green uniforms similar to a soldier's fatigues. Their primary weapons were Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns, but they also had Springfield .45 caliber pistols. Marina didn't like her heavy, stiff bullet-proof vest. She much preferred the advanced armor favored by the Society. Patches on her shoulders and chest showed "FBI."
Two men in orange jumpsuits emerged from the back door of the jail. Shackles on their wrists and ankles were attached to chains around their waists, limiting their movement. Both men had beards and light brown skin. Six federal agents in dark suits were escorting the prisoners.
Marina had obtained an official prisoner transport vehicle. It looked like a blue delivery van except the back and sides were armor-plated. The exterior was painted dark blue, and there were no markings to indicate its purpose.
She exchanged the appropriate paperwork with the federal agents. She had to sign a few forms, and they did the same.
Finally, the prisoners were loaded into the back of the transport vehicle. The interior contained hard plastic seats which were bolted to the floor. Metal loops served as attachment points for shackles, and the prisoners were securely locked in place.
Several duffle bags were also in the back of the transport vehicle. Aaron would be conducting the interrogation, and he had packed the bags with the implements he would need.
He climbed into the back with the prisoners. Even though they weren't going anywhere, he kept his MP5 in a ready position.
"It's just you two?" one of the federal agents said. "Nobody else?"
He was tall, thin, and nearly bald. His glasses reflected the bright s
unlight.
"Yes," Marina said. "Is that a problem?"
"These are very important prisoners."
"You can ride with us to San Francisco if you want, but you'll have to find your own way back."
The agent furrowed his brow. "Maybe I should."
He climbed into the back of the vehicle and found a seat across from Aaron. There was plenty of space. Marina closed the rear door and made sure it was latched.
"Good day, gentlemen," she told the other federal agents.
She went around to the front, climbed in, and drove off.
She only went two blocks. She stopped beside a public park in a spot where there were no witnesses around. She hopped out, ran around to the back, and opened the doors.
"What's going on?" the agent with the glasses said. "Why did we stop?"
"See for yourself," Marina said.
He got out of the vehicle and looked around.
She walked into the grassy park. "Over here," she beckoned.
He followed her. Without warning, she stabbed her fingernails into his neck and gave him a good dose of venom. He collapsed onto the grass with a sigh. He would sleep for an hour and wake up refreshed.
She ran back to the vehicle. Aaron was still waiting calmly inside.
"We're good to go," Marina said.
He nodded. "Then let's go."
Both prisoners had alarmed expressions.
She closed the doors, returned to the cab, and drove off.
Chapter Twenty
Marina drove down a dirt path towards an old barn. It had been painted red many years ago, but much of the paint had weathered away exposing raw wood. The barn had a stone foundation which also looked in need of repair. The entire structure was a little crooked.
The barn was located on a farm near Sacramento. Weeds instead of crops were growing in the fields at the moment, and the property was for sale. The nearest neighbor was half a mile away.
The barn doors were already open. Marina drove into the dim interior and parked beside two cars which she recognized. Her four legionnaires had arrived ahead of her.
Ipo and Liam were posted at the front door and watching for trouble. Hanley was at a back door, and Katie was looking out from the hayloft. Marina appreciated their diligence.
She got out of the prisoner transport vehicle, went to the back, and opened the door. Aaron and the two Iranians looked at her expectantly.
"We're here," Marina said. "Everybody out."
Her phone rang. She checked the caller ID but didn't recognize the number.
Frowning, she answered the call. "Yes?"
"Is this Ms. Pointu?" a man with a deep voice said.
"Possibly. Who are you?" Marina said.
"Special Agent Joshua Harp."
She recognized the name as the Special Agent in charge of the San Francisco Division of the FBI. He was the leader of a powerful organization, and he often worked with the United States Attorney's Office in San Francisco. She had made contact with him in the past and had done a few favors for him. He was definitely on the list of people she wanted to keep as friends.
"This isn't the best time," Marina said.
"It's an urgent matter," Harp said. "You told me I could call any time I needed a special favor."
She sighed. "Go on."
The rest of the team was dealing with the prisoners, so she could afford to step aside for a minute.
"Did you hear about the explosion at the New Bullards Bar Reservoir?" Harp said.
"Yes."
"It was a failed attempt to blow up the dam. The police caught the men responsible and delivered them to the FBI."
"Oh?" Marina glanced at the Iranians. "How do you know they were responsible?"
"There was a mountain of incriminating evidence with them," Harp said. "Tools, materials, plans, specifications. The police even found quantities of Semtex at the scene."
"Interesting. What do you know about these men?"
"Iranian terrorists. They've publically called for the downfall of the United States. The CIA has a whole file on both of them. We still don't know how they got into the country."
"I presume you questioned them," Marina said. "What did they say?"
"They claimed innocence, of course. They had just arrived and knew nothing about the bomb. They were set up. What else would they say? But I didn't call to discuss the merits of the case."
The Iranians were being jammed into two heavy, canvas bags normally used for boxing. The stuffing had been removed from the bags, and there was just enough room for an adult if he didn't mind a cramped position. Aaron, Ipo, and Hanley were forcing the shackled prisoners inside despite the tight fit. Marina moved to the far corner of the barn to get away from the noise.
"Then why did you call?"
"This is a little embarrassing," Harp said. "We lost the prisoners. I would like you to help us find them."
"How did you lose them?" Marina replied in a tone of surprise.
"Fake special agents with fake transfer orders took them from the Sacramento County Jail. It was done very slickly. Even the computers had been hacked, so the orders checked out as authentic. It had to be an inside job. The people responsible had an intimate knowledge of our methods and our systems which is why I'm calling you. You seem to have a special touch when it comes to dealing with sticky issues. We're keeping the whole thing top secret until we figure out what happened."
"OK," she said. "I'll look into it, but I have to go now. I'm really quite busy."
"Thank you," he said. "This is hugely important."
"I understand. Bye."
She put away her phone. Her stiff body armor was getting uncomfortable, so she shrugged it off and tossed it into the prisoner transport vehicle.
The Iranians were now trapped in the heavy punching bags and struggling to escape. Aaron and the legionnaires were working together to hang the bags from the barn rafters. She walked over.
"Who was that, dear?" Aaron said.
"The FBI," Marina said. "They want me to find two lost prisoners." She gave him the details.
He smiled. "That's funny."
"Not really. I'm in an awkward position. I want to do this favor for my friend in the FBI, but obviously, I can't tell him anything close to the truth."
"Let's worry about it afterwards."
She nodded and raised her voice so the whole team could hear. "Aaron will be conducting the interrogation today. I thought everybody would appreciate seeing a different style than mine. Darling, you may proceed."
Aaron nodded and walked up to the bags. The prisoners were still squirming, but they had no chance of escape. The bags were designed to take a lot of abuse.
"Let's see," he said. "Which of you is Yuram, and which is Mahmoud?"
Nobody responded.
Aaron kicked one of the bags hard enough to send it swinging wildly on its rope. The person inside the bag cried out.
"I asked a question," Aaron said, "and my questions always get answers. Who are you?"
"Yuram," the man in the bag moaned.
"Wonderful. Now tell me everything else. How were you recruited? Who paid you? How did you get to the dam? I'm sure you understand what I want to know."
"I won't talk, American devil," Yuram said in a thick, Middle-eastern accent. "Death to America! Death to the Great Satan!"
"I don't understand why you're trying to protect anybody. You were set up. You should be eager to talk."
Yuram was silent.
Aaron had brought out the duffle bags from the transport van. He opened one and pulled out black, plastic garbage bags which were bulging at the bottom. He snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.
"I stopped at a butcher shop early this morning," he said, "and I bought fifty pounds of entrails. I was particularly interested in the pig guts. I know Muslims have a problem with pork, so that's mostly what I have."
He unzipped the heavy bags a little and emptied the garbage bags into them. Marina caught glimpses of red, wet slop
. The Iranians thrashed desperately as they tried to escape from their dark, tiny, canvas prisons.
Aaron took a deep breath. "You can really smell the bowel. I think the meat is a little off, too. It was from yesterday's garbage. I also came across a full dumpster behind a Chinese restaurant, and it was crawling with maggots. It looked so good, I had to scoop it up."
He dumped more slop into the heavy bags. The stink of rotting food made Marina wrinkle her nose even though she was a good distance away and the barn was well ventilated. The prisoners made violent gagging noises. Aaron zipped up the heavy bags, but he left a small gap so they wouldn't suffocate.
"Can you feel the little guys crawling on your skin?" he said. "Don't worry. They prefer dead meat to living flesh, but I expect it's a creepy sensation. Now we need to mix the goulash. We don't want it settling to the bottom of the bag where it will do no good." He pointed at Liam. "You had training as a boxer. Let's see some punches."
Liam walked over with wide eyes. He was wearing a black shirt, blue jeans, and running shoes. A wide belt gave him a bit of cowboy flair. His straight, brown hair needed to be brushed.
Aaron stepped back. "Go ahead. Focus on the abdomen. Try to crack a few ribs."
Liam settled into a boxing stance and delivered a straight punch into the middle of the bag containing Yuram. Liam's technique was excellent and reminded Marina why he had been recruited. His fist landed with a solid thud. Yuram gasped and moaned.
Liam hit him a few more times before moving on to the other bag. Mahmoud suffered quietly, but Marina heard him grunt with each blow. Liam was certainly a hard puncher, and the men in the bags had no protection or warning before each crushing impact.
Suddenly, Mahmoud started yelling in Persian. Marina didn't understand the words but they had the tone of curses.
"What's he saying?" Aaron said. "Talk in English!"
"Mahmoud doesn't know English," Yuram said gleefully.
"Really? That's unfortunate."
Aaron reached into one of his bags and pulled out a glass bottle big enough to hold a gallon of fluid. He emptied the bottle into the heavy bag containing Mahmoud.
Screams of unbearable agony irritated Marina. She preferred quieter interrogations. She noticed Hanley was clenching his fists and gritting his teeth as if he were also in pain.