Two Days Later
Lee Highway
Gainesville, Virginia
David Kemiss sat down on the edge of the bed inside the room he had rented the night before and lit a cigarette. He had quit smoking years ago, but with the events of the last forty-eight hours anyone who begrudged him a smoke could go straight to hell. A tentative knock sounded on the door and he stood. After adjusting his tie and collar, he walked over the badly worn carpet and opened the door.
"She's here, Senator," Colin Bellanger said.
"Show her in, show her in."
Bellanger stood aside.
"Senator Kemiss," a blonde haired woman in a dark red skirt suit said.
Kemiss nodded. "Ms. Courtney. Come in, please."
The woman stepped into the small room, followed by a camera man who set up a tripod in the corner. Both looked around with an expression of amazement bordering on disgust. Bellanger closed the door behind them and moved to the opposite side of the room, where he took a seat on the bed.
"Sorry about the accommodations," Kemiss said, "but I'm sure you can understand my need to be discreet."
The Manassas Gap Motor Lodge was a far cry from the kind of place he would normally stay in, but the anonymity it provided in a time like this was a necessity. Twenty four hours ago, after finally being let out of his own house, which he had been held in for over twelve hours by some masked men linked to Declan McIver, he had emerged back into the world to learn that a gunfight had occurred at a school in Victoria, Virginia and that twenty dead Chechens had been found at or near the scene.
At first the media had showed only a passing interest as the town and its surrounding areas were common sites of drug related violence, but hours later, when the police had finally cleared the building, it became evident that something far more sinister had gone on. In the possession of one of the dead men had been letters making demands for the release of hostages, as well as maps and blueprints of the school. The police, and soon after the media, quickly and rightly surmised that what had been planned was nothing short of a hostage situation by terrorists linked to Islamic jihadists. Who had stopped the attack and killed the men found around the school was a mystery and rumors were already beginning to spread that the United States Army or some highly trained unit of the FBI had been involved, and that things had gone very wrong. Now every major television network from across the globe was descending on the town which was normally home to less than two thousand people.
"I appreciate you inviting me, Senator, and being willing to sit down for an exclusive. I must say, I'm a bit shocked that such a small affiliate as WSET was your first call."
"In times like this, Ms. Courtney, it can be hard even for someone in my position to rise above the noise. I've found in the past that smaller outlets can be the best bet. I understand that you have a working relationship with both a local radio station and a newspaper as well?"
"Yes, sir."
"And my comments will be featured in all three venues?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let's get started."
The reporter took out a spiral notebook and a digital tape recorder and set them on a table near the room's picture window. She straightened her skirt and took a seat in one of the mismatched chairs as Kemiss took a drag from his cigarette and sat down in the opposite chair.
"Don't tell my wife," he said with a smile, as he exhaled and crushed the cigarette out in an ashtray.
The reporter gave a courtesy laugh and quickly flipped open her notebook and pressed a button on the tape recorder. "Go ahead, Kenny," she said, giving a slight wave to the cameraman.
"This is WSET's Stacey Courtney," she said, as the red light on the front of the camera came on, "and I'm seated here in an undisclosed location with United States Senator David Kemiss, who has agreed to answer questions about the troubling events in Victoria, Virginia that were discovered thirty-six hours ago. Senator, the comments you made to me last week in Lynchburg after the death of Dr. Kafni, which you have repeated to the press gathered in Washington, were that you were deeply saddened by the death of Dr. Kafni and that you were being assured by federal law enforcement authorities that everything was being done to find his killers. Now, in light of the alleged terror attack in Victoria, a town that is located in your former congressional district before you were elected to the senate, you claim that you have information that links the two events, is that correct?"
Kemiss cleared his throat and straightened up in his seat. At first he hadn't known exactly how to react to the news that Declan McIver had managed to stop Ruslan Baktayev and in so doing had stopped the plans he and Lukas Kreft had put in motion, but he'd quickly shocked himself into campaign mode and decided that going on the offensive was his best shot. If he was honest, he was relieved that the attack had been stopped and, as a bonus, if he spun things the right way, he could actually come out of the entire situation better off. Kreft's vague promises of being able to spin the deaths of so many innocent Americans into a political victory could be damned. By the time this interview was over and the subsequent ones that Kemiss was sure would follow, he'd be a hero with the story that he'd cooked up.
"That's correct," he said. "Abaddon Kafni was a personal friend of mine and he was murdered by a mad terrorist bent on revenge."
The reporter nodded slowly. "Forgive me for saying, Senator, but that's not new information. It's been the working theory since Dr. Kafni's murder that he was killed by Islamic fundamentalists whom he'd run afoul of many times during his career."
"Let me finish, please. Thank you. The revenge exacted on Dr. Kafni that I was speaking of wasn't due to his career, but rather due to the fact that he was my friend. He was murdered because I rejected an attempt by his killer to blackmail both me and my office into aiding in the attack in Lunenburg County."
"Senator, you're saying that the same people who attempted to take school-aged children hostage early yesterday morning had contact with your office and that they killed Dr. Abaddon Kafni?"
Kemiss nodded. "That's correct. Dr. Kafni's murder and the associated bombing of Liberty University were intended as a warning shot to me and my staff. I was scheduled to be in attendance at the gala unveiling of the C.H. Barton Center for International Relations and Politics, but was called away by what was later revealed to be a ruse. I would have likely been killed and that was the message the terrorists wished to send."
"And how did you react to this 'warning shot', Senator?"
"Well, Ms. Courtney, the terrorists made a grave error in their calculations when they decided to try and blackmail me. Perhaps someone with less experience in Washington might have been a better target, but I have many contacts and was able to get word to counterterrorism experts in both our military and our federal law enforcement agencies."
"And together you came up with a plan that resulted in the Victoria attack being stopped?"
The question was asked in an almost giddy tone of voice and Kemiss knew that Stacey Courtney was eating every word he said right out of his hand. He fought back a smile as he answered.
"That is correct. Through a joint effort by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency, we were able to find and identify the offenders before they could commit their planned attack. Due to the efforts of this country's fine men and women in uniform many lives were saved yesterday morning."
"There are rumors, sir, that something went wrong yesterday morning which resulted in a gunfight at the school. Can you comment on that for us?"
"No, I can't. That is simply information that I do not have. Obviously I wasn't on the ground in Victoria when our brave officers attempted to arrest the offenders and clearly something did not go as planned."
"Are the officers okay? Were any of them injured in the assault?"
"I don't know, but if they were then my prayers are with them and their families."
Courtney looked over the notes that she had been making as Kemiss spoke and nodd
ed several times. This was the kind of story that made careers in the journalism world and he could tell she was nearly beside herself.
"One last question, Senator. I almost forgot in light of your revelations, but what of the ongoing manhunt for former IRA terrorist Declan McIver? Is he the man who tried to blackmail you? Is he the terrorist who is responsible for all of this?"
"No," Kemiss said. "Declan McIver's involvement in this matter is still very much an unknown. We do know that he is involved at some level, but we do not believe that he was acting alone or that he was in charge of anything. I'm sure when he is apprehended, and he will be apprehended, that his full role in this will come to light."
"Thank you for all of this information, Senator. I know the world will be waiting breathlessly for the outcome of the official investigation. This is WSET and I'm Stacey Courtney.
“Thank you again for calling me, Senator," Courtney said, as she clicked off the tape recorder and the red light on the camera winked out.
"Thank you, Ms. Courtney. Please call my assistant, Mr. Bellanger, with any further questions. I'm sure there will be a lengthy investigation and more questions will come up. I will be happy to answer them all."
Colin Bellanger stood from his perch on the bed and walked to the door. He opened it and held it as Stacey Courtney and her cameraman gathered their things and left the room.
"I think that went well, don't you?" Kemiss asked, as Bellanger closed the door again.
"Yes, sir, very well."
Kemiss nodded and stood up. "I hope so. Get the car ready. This place isn't going to stay a secret for long with that news van outside."
"Yes, sir." Bellanger opened the door and left the room.
Kemiss walked towards the bathroom, but stopped half way when his cell phone rang. After pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at the caller ID and answered. "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you since Saturday night!"
"Apologies, David," Lukas Kreft said. "It's been a busy couple of days."
"No kidding! I've been dealing with this entire situation alone!"
"I trust you've got a handle on it. You're an experienced man."
"That's not the point. The point is, I could have used your help in spinning this to the press. Your man Baktayev screwed up, again. Thankfully, McIver shot him full of holes or else we'd have a real nightmare on our hands."
"Our hands? You mean your hands, David. Your attempt to spin this story in your favor will not work. All you've done is speed your own demise by directly involving yourself. When the investigation begins, all the authorities will find is that the entire operation leads directly to your front door."
Kemiss turned and looked frantically around the room. "What are you talking about? I didn't have anything to do with this. All I've done is what I was told to do by you!"
"Let's examine that for a moment," Kreft said. "It was your influence that allowed Ruslan Baktayev to enter the country as an asylum-seeking refugee. It was your influence that obtained the blueprints and maps found in the school. The school was located in your former congressional district, an area where you have maintained relationships that enabled you to get said documents. The vehicles and building Baktayev used are owned by a shell company in the Grand Caymans bearing your name, and payments made to various people involved will all lead nicely and neatly back to paperwork you signed and accounts that you are responsible for. Even your latest action, the attempted hit on CIA chief Simard, was paid for through those accounts. Now, what do you think the authorities are going to say when they learn all of this?"
"You son-of-a-bitch, you've been planning this all along," Kemiss said in a hoarse whisper. "I was never going to make it out of this, was I?"
"Correct, David. Your relationship with Castellano will show how you tried to influence and control the investigation, and even your latest move in talking to the press, while bizarre, will only look like motivation in light of everything else. This whole thing will look like an attempt to revive your sagging political brand. The American government will be embroiled in controversy for months and the voting public will have even less confidence in their elected representatives than they already do. The divide between American politicians and American voters will grow even wider and even more attention will be paid to what's going on inside the country, where it should be focused, instead of on the affairs of other nations."
"You didn't care if Baktayev was successful or not, did you, as long as the whole thing could be pinned on me? You were setting me up from the beginning!"
"Yes, David. And you made it far too easy."
"Well, I've got news for you, Lukas, McIver got a taped confession from me Sunday night and I gave him your name! As soon as he releases that tape, you're going to have some serious people asking a lot of serious questions and it will be you who's calling me for help!"
"Nice try, David, another desperate attempt to make yourself look innocent."
"Just wait! I may be going down, but I'm taking you with me!"
The phone line went silent and Kemiss brought the device away from his ear to look at the LED. The call timer was flashing. Lukas Kreft had hung up. Kemiss set the phone down on the dresser, next to the television. Slowly, he sank down onto the bed and put his head in his hands. He could feel the heat coming off his skin.
"Senator?" a voice said from outside the room as a hurried knock came on the door. "Is everything okay in there? Senator? I heard someone yelling. Are you okay in there?"
Kemiss could hear his heart beating in his chest and the world around him sounded like it was underwater. Had he really been yelling? He hadn't realized it, but maybe he had been.
The knocks on the door grew louder. "Senator? Are you in there?"
Kemiss reached over to the dresser and unzipped the front pocket of the suitcase he'd brought in. Pulling out a .38 revolver, he caressed the shiny, nickel-plated weapon. He didn't want to be around for the storm that was coming. He couldn't face his children with something like this hanging around his shoulders.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Sligo Airport
Strandhill, County Sligo – Ireland
After going to ground for two days, Declan had finally been able to make his way out of the United States with the help of Fintan McGuire. With both the media and the law enforcement communities completely occupied by the foiled hostage crisis and the fear of other attempts around the country, Declan had been able to slip away undetected. Now as Fintan's Embraer Legacy 500 banked sharply to the left, he looked down on the mid-sized Irish town of Sligo, the crisp, navy blue waters of Ballysadare Bay and the North Atlantic Ocean beyond as the plane began its final approach from the east. Once the plane straightened out and descended, it bounced forcefully onto the runway and the engines screamed as they reversed to slow the corporate jet. Declan could see a line of four black Range Rovers waiting just off the runway, and as the craft taxied to a stop, the vehicles moved forward.
The cockpit door opened and the captain walked out. Declan stood as the man smiled and nodded at him and continued on towards the plane's rear exit. When the captain had opened the door and lowered the plane's wheelchair ramp, Declan thanked him, and descended to the pavement where the grouping of Range Rovers was now waiting.
"There's my old son," Fintan said with a huge smile, as Dean Lynch opened the rear door of one of the Range Rovers and the mop-haired entrepreneur exited the vehicle on his forearm crutches.
"What's all this?" Declan asked, as Fintan arrived at the edge of the ramp.
"You can't do everything you've done in the last week and a half and not expect a bit of a fanfare, mate," Fintan said, as the doors to several of the Range Rovers opened and people began to step out. Declan scanned the gathering group with a smile as Lord Dennis Allardyce, Tom Gordon and Shane O'Reilly arrived at the ramp. Declan smiled the biggest at the sight of Shane hobbling along on a set of crutches. "Now you two can have a race," he said, nodding towards Fintan.
"Well done, Mr. McIver, very well done indeed," Lord Allardyce said, as he extended his hand and slapped Declan on the shoulder like a father would a son. "A lot of people are going to be very grateful when the dust settles and everything that's happened is revealed in its entirety."
Declan smiled. "I'll settle for a glass of iced tea and no one shooting at me for a while."
He looked past the small group at the sound of more doors opening and closing. Altair Nazari and Okan Osman exited the third Range Rover in the row of four.
"Now, here's two guys I didn't think I would see again for quite a while," he said, as the two approached and they all shook hands. "I thought you'd both be laid up on a beach in Eilat soaking up the sun and drinking martinis."
"And we will be, very soon," Osman said with a laugh. "We just had to make a brief pit stop first." He nodded in the direction of the Range Rover they'd just gotten out of. A tall man with thinning gray hair and a chubby face had left the SUV and was walking towards them.
"Prime Minister," Declan said as Asher Harel arrived and they shook hands firmly.
"Our meeting at airports is becoming a habit, Mr. McIver. I'm glad this time it's under better circumstances," the aged Israeli said.
"Yes sir. So am I."
"I don't want to bring your reunion to a halt, but there's a lot that needs to be discussed. Have you heard the latest news out of the United States?"
Declan shook his head. "No, sir. I've been in the air until just a little while ago. We made a two hour stop in Reykjavik, but I never left the plane."
Harel nodded. "The story developing out of the United States is quite frankly bizarre, to say the least. Senator David Kemiss has apparently committed suicide after meeting with a television reporter." Harel continued to catch Declan up on all of the claims Kemiss had made in the interview that was now being played throughout the world's major media.
"That lyin' bogtrotter," Shane said, when Harel had finished. "He actually took credit for what Declan and your men did?"
Black Ops Bundle: Volume One Page 46