Luthecker

by Domingue, Keith

  The altercation had sobered him up a bit. Wolfe never saw it coming and thus took the strike hard-- He was completely out, his face bloody from a broken nose. He had possibly sustained a fractured cheekbone, and he more than likely suffered a concussion. It would hurt for some time and may even require surgery, but it was better than being dead, Stern thought.

  He dropped Wolfe in a heap before getting inside the vehicle and popped the glove box. He found several zip-tie restraints, knowing they would be there because he had been the one who put them there, and grabbed a couple of them. He zip-tied Wolfe’s feet together, and then his hands together behind his back, before going through his pockets, jacket linings, checking for any possible surveillance or recording devices. The last thing he did was remove the sim card from Wolfe’s cell phone and pocket it before wiping everything down to clear his prints.

  “Sorry asshole.” He said to Wolfe, before he cleared the alley, and walked calmly but quickly down the street.

  He knew he was on the run now. He had to put together a survival plan quickly. Richard Brown would send others to kill him, and he had to find out why. He had done nothing wrong or illegal, he’d merely asked questions. This all had to do with Alex Luthecker, he knew that for sure now. The man had knowledge of things he shouldn’t, and caused chaos wherever he went. He had to find out what it was about this particular individual that would cause Brown to readily and without hesitation issue a kill order against one of his own.

  He knew where Luthecker was being held, and at some point, he was going to pay the man a visit. He couldn’t right away, because Brown would expect that and be ready. So instead he would do some reconnaissance first. He would track down the captured fugitive’s friends, and brace them. But before that he would find the young woman from the nightclub, the one who had inadvertently led him to Luthecker that fateful evening, and who had subsequently paid Luthecker a visit at the police precinct. There had to be a connection. He knew there was more to the story than she and the overprotective cop were saying, and he would get it out of them. He had every intention of finding out exactly who, or what, Alex Luthecker was.

  TWENTY-SIX

  VIDEO CLIPS

  “What do you see?” The electronically scrambled voice from the walls asked.

  “A Chinese man, in his late sixties.” Alex answered, as he sat on the couch, staring at the HDTV in his cell. He felt a spike of pain in his head; a reminder of the headaches watching electronically created imagery caused him.

  The screen showed a diplomatic press photo of a regal looking man wearing a dark blue suit jacket and matching tie.

  “Don’t play games. His name is General Deng Zemin. He is the Chairman of Central Military Commission of China. He is one of the most powerful men in the world.” The electronic voice continued, and Alex knew right away exactly whom it was that was speaking to him— Suspect Zero, the man who arranged his capture in the desert.

  “I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” Alex replied. The pain in his head moved from the back of his skull to directly behind his eyes. He looked away from the television screen.

  “I want you to watch the next series of video clips very carefully. Then I want you to tell me about the people in them. What they are thinking. What they fear. What they hope for. And most importantly, I want to know what they are planning.”

  “My guess is what they fear and what they hope for are the same things you do.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Alex. Zemin is an enemy to the interests of this nation. Now, I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And I’m looking for weaknesses here. The same type of actionable intelligence that you used against my interrogator three years ago.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Then make it work that way.”

  “Have you ever stopped a moment, looked inside yourself, and thought for one second that the entire belief system you live by just might be wrong?”

  “Wrong doesn’t exist when you’re the architect of history, Alex. And stop wasting time trying to get in my head. I’ll only take it out on your friends. I know that when you look at people, the minute details allow you to see inside their soul, and somehow you can turn it against them. I don’t know how you do it, and I don’t care. I just want you to do it for me. And for your Country. Your life, and your friend’s lives, depend on it. Now watch the television, and tell me what you see.”

  The video monitor began running a film montage of General Zemin giving speeches and shaking hands with various diplomats from around the world, including the President of the United States. A fit looking man with a confident posture, Zemin gave the air of control, having a perfect diplomatic smile to soften his hawk-like stare. The final clip was of the General walking down the staircase leading from the clamshell door of a diplomatic jumbo jet with what looked like his counterpart of Russian lineage. It was the same news footage that had run in Brown’s office during his conversation with the Secretary of Defense, only moments earlier.

  Alex squinted to watch the electronic image on the screen, his eyes instinctively moving back and forth in a REM-like fashion at an abnormally rapid pace, even for him. The pain behind his eyes increased sharply, radiating throughout his entire skull. The high frequency flicker of the television signal, perfect in its pattern and invisible to most, was painfully visible to Alex, and watching the electrons move around felt like a buzz saw cutting into his forehead. His eyes began to water from the effort, and he was forced to turn away.

  “What do you see, Alex? I need to know, how can I break this man?”

  Alex had managed to read the General’s fate before he was forced to break away his gaze. What he saw was choppy and imperfect. It was not a person but an electron image, nothing more than a poor resolution copy of a small window into the patterns of a flesh and blood individuals’ behavior. But he saw enough.

  The man would live a long life. Zemin’s intentions on what he would do with his time were clear and strong, consistent with his posture, gait, and visage. In an instant Alex knew what was at stake for his captor. He knew what it was that he feared about the General. The irony of it meant that he now knew a great deal about the mind of his captor. The two men were rivals, both men born of military experience and the warlike mindset, mirror images of one another in purpose if not strategy. Zemin clearly had the upper hand, and Alex’s captor, and now Alex, knew it. It was the last thought that went through Alex’ brain before the pain in his head completely overwhelmed him, and he tumbled to the floor of his luxury-cell apartment, unconscious. His body began to twitch.

  “What the hell happened?” Brown asked, as he watched Alex fall from the comfort of the observation booth.

  “He’s going into convulsions.” Lansky replied, as he sprung up from his chair. “We have to go in there.”

  “No. It could be a tactic. He could be faking it to force contact.”

  Lansky, Lax, and Siobhan Parker all looked at Brown in shock. He noted their reaction, relented. He looked at Parker.

  “You. Go in there. Find out what medical attention he needs. Give him whatever you have to. I want him up and running and back to work as soon as possible.”

  She bolted from the observation booth, and in less than thirty seconds, reappeared in the holding cell.

  They all watched as she stooped down next to Alex to check his pulse.

  “Let me know when he can continue looking at the footage. We have a lot of work for him.” Brown said to Lax and Lansky, before exiting the booth.

  Brown marched down the fluorescent-sterile hallway, back towards the office floors of the Coalition Properties West Building, mulling over what had just happened.

  Luthecker’s physical reaction had been unexpected. There was no reasonable way Brown could put Alex in a room with the likes of a Chinese General, but he was convinced that by simply looking at a target’s movement’s, mannerisms, and speech patterns on video, over time, some actionable intelligence could be gathered. He based this
conclusion on having studied the surveillance video of Alex in the room with David Lloyd countless times, taking note of Alex’ carnivorous eye movement eating up every detail of Lloyd before a single word had been uttered between them. It was as if Alex knew everything he needed to know in order to tear Lloyd apart right then and there.

  He had read the intelligence file that peaked his initial interest, the encounter with the would be Metrolink bomber, over and over as well, studying the inhuman amount of detail Alex used in describing the man and the events that led up to his inevitable demise, all of which was observed by Luthecker in only a few moments on a random street corner. He had even hired Lax and Lansky to give a clinical diagnosis to what he knew for sure to be true-- That Alex Luthecker could read a man’s fate by keeping track of countless seemingly unconnected details and finding a way to connect them, in order to access his victim’s deepest darkest secrets, and then proceed to destroy that individual at will. And he could do it all within a matter of minutes.

  Brown was well aware of the fact that the fate of the world always boiled down to the destinies of only a handful of powerful men. If you could know the fate of this handful of men, you could know the future. And if you had the power to alter or perhaps destroy their dreams and plans, you could change the world.

  Luthecker clearly had that power and Brown wanted access to it. He knew this to be true the moment he watched Luthecker crush David Lloyd. He knew right at that moment that this young man was a weapon with enormous potential. Beyond the individual, who knew what Luthecker could do with much larger data sets? The possibilities were endless, Brown thought. With control of those kinds of abilities, the concept of reconnaissance could be altered forever. He could tilt the balance of power in the world back in America’s favor, giving the United States an advantage it desperately needed right now. And if the experiment of trying to access that power via the video footage failed, he would find another way to get Luthecker’s abilities to work for him. He would not give up. He simply had no choice.

  “Colonel Brown.” Director Stephens’ voice called out in the hallway.

  Brown turned to find Stephens’ running down the hallway in his direction. He stopped and waited as Stephens approached.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s agent Wolfe, sir. He’s just been picked up.”

  “What do you mean, “he’s been picked up”?

  “He was injured during an altercation with agent Stern late last evening.”

  “And Stern?”

  “Missing, sir.”

  “Goddammit.” Brown swore.

  “I’m afraid there’s more.” Stephens continued. The news this morning reported a shooting in Santa Monica. Three fatalities. All male.”

  Brown’s face became flush with blood.

  “A female suspect, one Nicole Ellis, is currently being held by the LAPD for questioning. I thought you’d want to know right away.”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  Stephens nodded in response, and Brown waited for him to walk away before reaching for his cell phone, and hitting the speed dial.

  To have two logistical failures at once was unconscionable. Three if you wanted to count Luthecker’s collapse. The odds of this, however unlikely, were not out of the realm of possibility, as Brown had learned during his years as a soldier. The battlefield was always unpredictable. But panic was not part of Brown’s make up. This was still containable, he thought. The fact that the police were holding Ms. Ellis would work to his advantage. He would have her held until an extraction unit arrived on scene, after which she would be disposed of discreetly. Stern would be a different matter all together. Still, he felt that the whole situation could be remedied without much further delay. Mission Ops only failed when redundant efforts were not automatically built in. He would call in heavy reinforcements to finish both jobs.

  On the second ring, the phone picked up with no greeting, only silence.

  “I have an immediate assignment for you and your unit.” Is all Brown said, before snapping his flip phone shut, and continuing down the hallway.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  COMMON CAUSE

  “We found a late model van parked on the corner of your street that had been converted to a mobile sniper’s nest. No registration.” Officer Castillo said to Nikki Ellis. “In it we found an SV-99 twenty-two caliber sniper rifle. Can’t say for sure until we hear back from ballistics, but it looks like it more than likely fired the rounds that killed Detective Miller and Michael Kittner. That would seem to back up your claims. What concerns me most Ms. Ellis is that this guy clearly wasn’t some random amateur. He was a pro. And so far, his ID is coming up empty. No print files, no name, nothing. This is very serious stuff. So the next question is, do you know anyone who might want you, your brother, or Michael Kittner dead?”

  “No.” Nikki replied, barely above a whisper. She sat across from Castillo’s desk, keeping her hands warm with a cup of coffee. Her hair fell around her shoulders uncombed, and her eyes looked tired. She still wore the clothes from the time of the shooting.

  Despite her gut feeling that this was all somehow tied to Alex Luthecker, she chose to keep those thoughts to herself. And what she told Castillo was the truth—She didn’t know anyone who might want them dead.

  “You were in business with Mr. Kittner for some time. Were you involved?”

  “Not any more.”

  “And you were recently terminated.” Castillo stated, before looking up from his notes for a reaction.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know of any business dealings Mr. Kittner may have had that went sour, to the point where someone might want him dead?”

  “His previous company collapsed. He lost a lot of clients’ money.”

  “And it was you that made the call that collapsed it.”

  “Yes.”

  Castillo stopped taking notes and examined Nikki a moment.

  “Any threats to you directly? From disgruntled clients?”

  “Not to me, no. I was fired right away. And he never mentioned any threats that were aimed at him. Funds like this crash and burn all of the time, and no one seems to blink. Look at Enrad. If anything, he was excited. He had an opportunity to run a new energy fund. That’s why he flew to L.A. to see me. He wanted me on board. According to him, it was the fund source that was really pushing him to bring me on board. Apparently they wanted me pretty bad. Bad enough to make my involvement part of his employment.”

  Castillo took a moment to write down the details. He looked up from his notepad with the look in his eye that this may be the lead he was looking for.

  “Who were “They”?

  “He wouldn’t say. Which I thought was strange. He knows I know all the players in the energy game. He said he would tell me who it was when he saw me in person.”

  “So you were taking the job then.”

  “No. I had turned it down. He couldn’t believe it. That’s why he came out to see me. Said he didn’t understand it. That he thought energy trading was in my blood. He wanted me to look him in the eye and say no.”

  “And why did you turn it down?”

  Nikki thought a moment before responding. She didn’t want to go beyond the terror attack that led to her getting fired. She didn’t want to get into the night she met Luthecker, her brother’s accident, and how nothing had been the same for her ever since.

  “People change.” She finally answered.

  “And the money? From what I understand, it’s a whole lot of it, a person with your skills.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  “And what does matter to you now?”

  “My brother. And doing something with my life that’s...” She trailed off. “I don’t know. Something that’s bigger than that.” She concluded.

  Castillo mulled over her responses.

  “I’m truly sorry about Philip.” She stated. “He seemed like a really good guy.”

  Castillo looked at her. Trie
d to read her motives. Didn’t read anything other than sincerity. It allowed him to show some emotion.

  “He was. He was also a damn good cop. And a friend. I’m going to find out who did this, Miss Ellis. That I promise you.”

  “Can I go see my brother now?”

  “This will only take a few more minutes. Don’t worry; I have a uniformed officer posted at his door in the hospital. He’ll be safe.”

  Nikki had called 911 immediately after the shooting. When the police arrived, they suggested that Ben be taken back to the hospital as a precaution, while she had been brought in for questioning.

  “But I do have some concerns regarding your personal safety.” Castillo continued, before the phone on his desk rang, interrupting.

  He picked it up, cradled it between his shoulder and cheek.

  “Castillo.” He answered, never taking his eyes off of Nikki.

  She caught a flash of surprise on his face.

  “Send him on back. With an escort.”

  He hung up the phone.

  “It seems you have a visitor.”

  “Who?”

  “Remember me?” Stern said as he approached Castillo’s desk from across the room, a uniform on either side of him.

  “I remember you. And I have a few questions.” Castillo said as he slowly got to his feet.

  Stern looked at Castillo, keeping the palms of his hands visible, making sure he was viewed as no threat.

  “I just want you to know, before you say anything, that I’m on your side here. I saw the news. Someone killed your partner. And I’m truly sorry about that.” He looked in Nikki’s direction. “They were after you. And I think we both know why. I’m here because I know who was behind it. And you’re in real danger.”

  Castillo raised an eyebrow. Nikki stood up. The uniforms closed in.