“All right, let’s summarize what evidence we have,” suggested MayAnn. The three sat at a small table away from the work desks. “We know the late Colonel Buchanan was a member of Cerberus, likewise General Jamieson. The general—or should I say, the soon to be ex-general—will be here in a day or so.” She explained to Maeve. “He’s an FBI prisoner, now. We need to question all of Alpha Company and the battalion people, in particular the team that was helping the general recover three large crates full of US currency. We think the company is Cerberus, although the younger ones are likely to be more or less innocent. The others, though, will have knowledge to help us understand more about the organization and its operations. We’re holding the people we suspect were involved in killing Gilmore’s kidnappers. Please remind me later, I need to find out what happened with their second set of DNA tests. We’ll have thirty or so Cerberus children at the 145th’s base here in D.C., we decided that location would be better than Schmidt’s training center. They also may have details we can use. Schmidt, you should check with Gross on their status, and we need to visit there today. Mark will be expecting you. We’ve identified buildings occupied by Cerberus, we may be able to trace titles and tenant details. Finally, the motor yacht: now we know where she is registered, we should be able to trace her ownership.”
“Oliver will have to supplement your team,” said Schmidt. “Or perhaps I should take advantage of Major Symmonds and build a larger support team.” He shuddered. “I prefer getting more people from Oliver. Let’s do that, first.”
***
Chapter 22
There was a soft tap, just enough to alert him, and Mark jumped off his bed and opened the door. It was Martin.
“The monitoring system is in backup mode,” his visitor confirmed.
“Good,” said Mark. “Is everyone ready?”
“Yes, they’re waiting in the dining room. Come on.”
Mark followed the young man along the corridor. They both moved silently, ever cautious, even though the security system was in its standby mode. All the children were in the dining room, silent, waiting. Most had personal packs. Each of the smallest children was paired with an older child. The four oldest children were carrying makeshift staffs, wooden handles which they had recovered from mops and brooms. There was a determination in their attitude that promised pain for any guard who blocked their way.
Mark, Martin, and Erikk led the way. It was just after 1 a.m., the security backup process was still running and they expected the guards to be relaxed, if not asleep. There were only four on duty, according to one of the other children, a very young girl. She had checked earlier. The guards had threatened her and she went scurrying back to the large room that was used as a dormitory for the girls.
“There were only four guards in the monitoring room,” she said to Mark and Martin. “I carried my teddy bear and they thought I was harmless, a baby. They just don’t understand. I don’t think there was anyone on patrol or anywhere else; they’re very lazy.”
One of the older girls, her name was Anna according to her name tag, had volunteered to raise an emergency alert with the guards. She waited until four of the older children and Mark were in place just outside the guards’ office; they had slithered along the floor and were below the sight-lines of the guards. She then ran forward, shouting as loud as she could.
“Help, help,” she cried, “Pamela’s dying; she’s choking and can’t breathe. Help us, please.” Pamela was one of the younger girls.
Two of the guards looked up from their reading. The other two were asleep and hardly stirred. The two guards exchanged comments and one came to the electronically controlled door that provided admittance to their sanctuary. He held a stunner half-heartedly—what danger could a young teenage girl represent? He swiped his card to open the locked door. It clicked and swung wide.
“Wha—?” He did not manage to complete his question. Mark and Martin launched themselves off the floor and charged the guard. The violence of their assault forced him almost all the way across the room. He fell against a steel cabinet and then to the floor, stunned. Mark scooped up the fallen man’s weapon. The second security guard watched, his mouth agape. He was the senior guard, who had once stunned Mark into unconsciousness. Mark held the stunner at the man’s temple and relieved him of his weapon. Martin and Erikk had captured weapons from the two sleeping guards, each of whom had awoken confused and unprepared.
“If any of you move, you’ll get one of these at full power,” warned Mark.
The senior guard spluttered a threat. Mark ignored it. He turned to Anna. “Get the children, now.”
Anna ran down the corridor and shortly the corridor was full of children, silent and disciplined. Mark thought he could see expressions of hope on their faces. Martin and Erikk tied the guards, securing their arms; they needed to be able to walk. Mark checked the time on the security clock. The backup process was due to complete. He signaled.
“Everyone, come on. We need to clear the corridors, in case anyone checks the cameras remotely.” He led the way through the security office, eventually finding the exit. He slowly opened the door and closed it far more quickly. He looked at Martin.
“Guard dogs,” the young man confirmed.
The senior security guard laughed. “They’re killers. Let’s see you deal with them,” he said.
Mark shrugged. “Stay here,” he instructed the group of children. He stepped out into the cold night. Three dogs rushed towards him, growling, only to halt almost in mid-step. One whined for a moment. The second dog wagged its tail and rushed forward to Mark and the third dog followed. The first dog, reluctantly, at last decided to join them. Mark held the back of his hand for the dogs to sniff, and then rubbed their ears. The animals climbed over each other in their eagerness to reach him.
“Sit,” he commanded. “Now wait. Don’t attack anyone. Behave.” He tapped on the door behind him, all the while watching the dogs. They whined and Mark held his hand up. Two of the dogs rolled over on the tarmac, tummies exposed. The third dog sat, head to one side.
Martin opened the door. “What’s happening?” he asked.
“All under control,” said Mark. “Tell the children to ignore the dogs, they’ll stay with me. Lead everyone towards the exit gate, across the yard.”
“You’ll have to tell me how you did that,” said Erikk. “The guards were laughing; they expected you to get torn to pieces.”
“It’s a trade secret,” said Mark. He did not know how to explain how he communicated with animals.
A bus approached with an escort of SUVs and halted on the other side of the barrier as the group of children reached the entry gate. Mark was at the rear of the group, accompanied by the three dogs. Martin used keys he had taken from the security office to unlock the gate and swung it open. He waited for all the children to exit through the open gateway, followed by Mark, and then closed the gate, leaving the dogs locked in the yard. The animals sat and whined as he turned away. The security guards swore at him. Erikk watched, impressed.
“Midway?” One of the occupants of the SUV approached Mark.
He looked at the man, recognizing the leader of the hostage rescue unit. “Gross?” he asked.
“Yes. Good to see you’re safe. You’ve got everyone?” Other FBI agents had exited the accompanying vehicles and gathered around.
“Yes, these are the children, and we captured four security guards. We’ll turn the guards over to you. They’re Cerberus employees and may have information you can use.” He signaled to Martin as he continued to speak. “Martin, this is Charles Brown; he’s a senior FBI Agent. Please give him the keys to the building.”
Martin and Gross exchanged greetings and Martin handed over a set of keys and electronic pass cards taken from the security guards. Gross then signaled for one of his agents to take control of the prisoners. Mark continued. “As far as we know, there is no else inside the building. There are guard dogs, but I don’t think they’ll trouble you, I
told them to behave.”
Gross rubbed the back of his neck. “If you say so. I plan to remain here with four of my team. We’ll formally arrest these guys, and search the building. We’ve warrants based on your kidnap and the possible kidnap of the children. I’ve arranged for an agent to ride in the bus, and there’ll be three in each of the two escort SUVs. There’s one change of plans. Schmidt wants you all to go to an Army base in D.C. that he has commandeered. There’s enough space, he said, to cope with the other children you mentioned. He wasn’t able to phone you with details. Is that okay? ”
“I didn’t know Schmidt could commandeer Army bases,” said Mark.
“Oh, you wouldn’t know. He’s been recalled to active duty and promoted. He’s now a general.”
“Why did they do that?” Mark frowned.
“I believe when he reported his concerns about Cerberus to the President, it was realized he needed more authority to find and deal with that organization. His analysts had identified an Army unit involved in your kidnapping. That’s why he was in Afghanistan with Special Agent Freewell. They had to investigate and arrest some of the members of the unit. They’re all Cerberus, I understand. As a result, he has one hundred and fifty soldiers returning from Afghanistan mid-week. It’s their base he’s using for you. It’s empty at the moment.”
“A hundred and fifty soldiers—is he recruiting?” asked Mark.
Gross said, “I think so. We’ll need to get statements from you, from the children. No, not now. I’ll spend Sunday here, and then on Monday I’ll see you with the rest of my team. We’ll get statements then. All right?”
Mark looked at Martin and Erikk. Anna had joined them, and had been an interested listener. “Is the change acceptable to all of you?” he asked.
Erikk shrugged. Anna nodded. Martin said, “It should be. Remember, we need room for the other children when we rescue them.”
“Very well. Okay, Gross. Let’s do it.”
It took only an hour for the small convoy to reach its destination. An SUV was in the lead and stopped at the vehicle security barrier guarding the entrance to Camp Brewer. It was a few minutes after three a.m. and a sleepy guard stepped out of the small security shack. A small sign warned drivers that backing up would damage tires and a row of steel teeth embedded in the road reinforced the cautionary note. The guard was a civilian; the duty had been handed off to private contractors while the 145th was in Afghanistan. The installation could cope easily with four or five companies, although it currently was almost deserted.
An FBI agent in the lead SUV handed the guard a set of documents. Mark stepped out of the bus and approached the security shack to monitor what was happening. The guard scratched his head and tried to make sense of the document contents. It seemed that anything more than checking the identity of a casual visitor was well above his pay grade.
“Sir, I don’t know anything about this.” The young man was perplexed. “There’s no one I can refer to, they’re all overseas for the next six months or more.”
“We just need the keys to barrack buildings A and B,” said the FBI agent.
“Sir, I dunno—” The guard shook his head.
“Sonny, you have a phone in your office. You report to someone. I suggest you give them a call.” The FBI agent was growing impatient. “Otherwise, give me their name and number, and I’ll call them.”
“But, sir, Mr. Hawkins won’t like being woken at this hour, he won’t.”
“Either phone this Mr. Hawkins, give me his number so I can phone him, or let us through. Now.”
The guard bit his lip. He was barely out of his teens. Mark said, “Look, we have authority, and we need to get our passengers settled. Why don’t you let us through, and then in the morning, phone your boss. I’m sure he would prefer that.”
“You think so? He’s a difficult cuss, sometimes.”
Mark held out his hand. “Just give me the keys, we’ll look after everything. I’ll call your boss, myself, if you like. Just let me know when would be a good time to do so.”
The guard, still hesitant, entered his shack and shortly returned with sets of keys and a map of the base. “Sir, here are the keys. This is a map, it’s got the barracks marked. I—I’ll let you know when it will be okay to call my boss.”
Mark thanked the guard and handed the keys and map to the FBI agent. He then climbed back into the bus and the convoy slowly made its way through the barricades towards their destination. Thin sodium lights barely illuminated the road as they headed to the location marked on the map. Buildings loomed out of the darkness and then faded away as they drove to their destination. At last the lead vehicle stopped; they were at the top of a large square, with buildings around three sides. These, Mark thought, must be the intended barracks. He was first off the bus, followed by Erikk. Martin and Anna quickly followed. Sleepy yet excited children slowly assembled alongside the bus. The senior FBI agent, Luis Moreton, came over to Mark.
“These two buildings,” he indicated, “are marked as A and B. The children are supposed to move into A. This is going to take some organizing. Unlikely to be cleaners. No idea of bedding. Neither Gross nor Schmidt mentioned supplies.”
“I’m sure the children can arrange things.” Mark looked at Martin. “What do you think?”
“Anything is better than that prison.”
Erik nodded his agreement.
Anna said, “Give me the keys and I’ll soon get the kids working. I hope the utilities are on. Does anyone have a flashlight?”
Luis Moreton produced a flashlight from the SUV. He led the way, walking with Anna to the first building. They found light switches just inside the entrance, and soon the building was a blaze of light. There were bundles of towels, bed linens, and blankets stacked in the lobby and after a quick exploration of the first and second floors of the building, Anna and Martin arranged work parties to make up beds. Within an hour of their arrival most of the children were in bed, the girls on the second floor, with the first floor allocated to the boys. Mark planned to sleep in a small room adjacent to the boys.
Before they retired for the remainder of the night, Mark, Erikk, Martin, and Anna met with the FBI agents. “Luis,” said Mark. “While we don’t expect any threats here, it would ease our minds if you could set guards. Perhaps one of your agents could join the security guard at the entrance, to make sure we don’t receive unexpected visitors.”
“Agreed. We’re all agents including the drivers. With myself, I have enough men to cover the next six hours or so. Gross arranged a second team to support us and I expect them to be here by 8 a.m. This site will be bottled up so tight that if a bug twitches, we’ll catch it. Once the soldiers arrive, we can hand over the responsibility. Expect to see Schmidt about lunchtime.”
“Very good. Anna, Martin, stand down the children, they don’t need to worry about guard duty. I don’t know about all of you, but my adrenalin rush has drained off and I need a few hours sleep. We’ll worry about breakfast when we wake. I’m sure Schmidt arranged supplies and hopefully, caterers.”
***
Chapter 23
Jones stared at his fellow executive. It was Sunday morning, and he arrived at the Cerberus New York office in response to a panicked phone call from Davis. They were using the Chairman’s meeting room. “What do you mean, we’ve lost fifteen children?” he asked.
“Listen. One of the guards at Pebble Creek was late to arrive to work this morning, for his day shift. He saw two SUVs at the entrance just as he reached the gate and immediately became suspicious. They looked like law enforcement. He didn’t stop. He tried to phone one of his friends on the shift, and there was no answer. He high-tailed it out of there and phoned his manager, who also tried to contact the Pebble Creek security office, day shift guards, even members of the night shift; however, no one is answering. He decided not to go to Pebble Creek to check, and phoned my security team. They alerted me. I also tried to phone Pebble Creek. We’ve lost contact, totally.”
“Definitely not. If Schmidt or Freewell are involved, anyone who visits the building will be detained.”
“But why should those two be involved? They’re in Afghanistan, last time we heard.”
Davis looked away, his face gray. After a moment he looked back at Jones. “Because that’s where Midway was being held. A team directed by Buchanan delivered him there, before they were deployed to Afghanistan.”
“Shit. You’re in over your head, Davis, if you were part of that.”
“No, I wasn’t. I—I discovered some details that I checked with Dr. White. She admitted she had helped Buchanan, said it was his idea.”
“Have you read your security updates? Schmidt’s been recalled. He’s been promoted to general and he’s in Bagram. There was only one reason for him to visit Afghanistan, don’t you think?”
“I—I’ve got an update on his visit,” admitted Davis.
“You have? Another disaster for us, I take it?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” muttered Davis. “He went there with Freewell. They’ve detained everyone and the 145th is on its way back to D.C. Buchanan is dead. He tried to shoot Schmidt. Jamieson is under close arrest; the FBI is in charge of him and his inner core, members of the unit. They caught the general retrieving crates of US currency that he’d apparently stored with a bank in Kabul. Schmidt’s probably back in D.C., now.”
Jones stared at Davis, his anger building. “Did you know this was happening? Were you involved?”
“No, certainly not.” His tone was indignant. “I found out yesterday. Dr. White contacted me, she was trying to work out how to help Jamieson. I told her I didn’t want to get involved.”
“Where is the good doctor?” asked Jones. “I haven’t seen her since the 145th deployed.”
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