The reverence Luthecker’s accomplices paid to him clearly indicated he was their leader, and beyond him there appeared to be no larger, more complicated hierarchy. If this was the closest thing to an organization that Luthecker was a part of, it was this man who appeared to be the head of it. He had decided that this small band of four individuals constituted Luthecker’s primary leadership and support group, and, as with most terrorist groups, the ancillary members would scatter after the disappearance of the key individuals.
The Watts area of Los Angeles was tightly controlled by the gangs, and as such, had the chance to degrade into a considerable amount of violence if the targets were not extracted correctly. The media spin on the capture or termination of this small, localized, and off-grid collection of four would be easy enough to control, if any information somehow leaked. However if an altercation were allowed to escalate into a larger scale incident that included a rather vocal and criminal prone minority, it would be far more difficult to spin. He had sent an initial recon unit into the area to gauge the level of resistance he would find should he move to extract, and waited for the intelligence report. In the end, he would still take them out, regardless of what the intelligence unit came back with, even if it required a full-blown platoon of Special Ops soldiers to do the job.
He switched video files, to the ones shot in the northeast alley next to the Los Angeles Metro Police Precinct, only hours ago. The fast moving drones recorded imagery in the alley that was somewhat dizzying and difficult to follow, but with a facial recognition program he filtered the footage through, he clearly identified rogue agent Marcus Stern, fugitive Nicole Ellis, along with LAPD detective and now accomplice, Michael Castillo.
So Stern had sought out the woman, Brown thought. In his mind this no doubt had to do with Luthecker’s connection to both of them and the disturbing amount of influence he had on the agent, and only confirmed to him that his decision to terminate Stern as a precaution had been the correct one.
Brown also knew that Stern, emotional, impulsive, and therefore weak minded, would seek out Luthecker for answers to the meaningless questions his insecurities allowed for. And the fact that the woman, Nicole Ellis, had walked away from so much money and had aligned herself with him meant that she too, would seek out Luthecker for answers as to why her life had suddenly been sent adrift. Such was the power of the young terrorist. But since Brown held Luthecker captive and Stern knew it, Brown wouldn’t have to hunt either of them down—He would simply wait for them to inevitably come to him. And when they arrived, he would be more than ready.
He hit the intercom sitting on his desk. “Tell the auditors when they are done with their initial rounds, to come to my office.” He said into the speaker, referring to the office he had commandeered from Stephens.
“They’re on their way now, sir.” A pleasant sounding female voice replied.
Brown had decided not to go with Military Cutouts to complete the job this time around. Instead, he had decided to recruit from the Coalition Properties funded CIA’s imbedded assassin program, choosing individuals without the dead give away of physical stature and “seek and destroy” psychology of someone with a soldier’s background. The two men selected were far subtler, skilled at blending in, gaining trust, and closing out assignments without an excess of violence or suspicion.
“You wanted to see us sir?” The short, soft-spoken man with the receding hairline asked, as he and his taller partner stood just outside Brown’s office.
“Yes, please, come in.” Brown replied, waving the man and his companion into the office.
“Have a seat.” He continued, as he stepped around his desk, and closed the door behind them.
They took a seat on the office couch, and Brown stood across from them, leaning against his desk, his arms folded across his chest.
“Mr. Jones and Mr. Isabella.” Brown said out loud and evaluative, as he looked over his two new recruits. Both men were in their early thirties, and they covered their ordinary-sized frames with dark blue suits that were purposefully just below average in both style and price. They looked nothing alike yet were nevertheless indistinguishable from one another, save for the fact that Isabella wore glasses with thick black rims. Neither looked particularly fit nor threatening, and they were easy to dismiss as bean counter types.
“So where are we on the first thing?” Brown asked.
Jones looked at Isabella, who took off his glasses, and proceeded to clean the lenses with his tie.
“I’m sorry to say that agent Wolfe passed away of a heart attack this morning.” Isabella replied, without looking up.
“That is unfortunate news. I’ll be sure to send the family flowers.” Brown replied. He sensed genuine remorse in Isabella’s response to go along with the subtle detachment to the fact that the two men sitting on his office couch had just killed a man. It left him impressed and somewhat amused, the human but still business-like demeanor that had none of the cold psychopathy that usually accompanied the actions of men capable of such activities.
“And what of your thoughts regarding our building’s security? Has everyone been cooperative?” He continued.
“They have. You have a wonderful staff here.” Jones replied.
“And from what we can tell, the security is nearly impossible to break. Very impressive.” Isabella added.
“We were forced to create an alternative.” Jones continued. “One that would be relatively easy to follow, for someone who had Ops experience, and previous access to the building.”
“I see. And where would it lead?”
“To us, eventually.” Isabella replied, the more direct of the two, as he put his now clean glasses back upon his face.
“What kind of timeline are we looking at?” He continued.
“I can’t be sure. Be on twenty-four hour alert. I expect an attempt to be made some time within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”
“And how many?” Jones asked.
“Three. Two males, one female. The leader did two tours of combat in Afghanistan and has a sniper background, and the other male is a fugitive law officer. Both are used to working either solo or with a single partner, so I don’t expect them to recruit. The males will for sure be armed and dangerous, although the woman has shown she won’t hesitate to kill either.”
Brown reached back to his desk, grabbed a small stack of three files, and handed them to his two guests.
Jones and Isabella looked over Stern, Castillo, and Ellis’ files. After they finished, they looked at one another, shrugged, turned back to Brown.
“Okay. Not a problem.” Jones said, with a disturbing amount of calm.
“Good. Everyone at Coalition Properties West has been instructed to cooperate with you fully. Any questions about the facilities, ask Director Stephens. Anything else, bring it to me.” Brown directed them. Then he added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on the asset they are after.”
THIRTY
ALL IN
Nikki sat on the edge of the thread-worn couch, trying to touch as little of the stained and molding fabric with her body as possible. She took it all in, the cramped space, the leers from the pair of muscular and tattoo covered Latinos standing in the kitchen, the faded and peeling wall paint, the Crucifixes and pictures of Jesus seemingly everywhere, the occasional wandering child. She wondered how she had gotten from her Liberty Street luxury apartment in New York to this place, a small two-bedroom house in East L.A., home to Castillo’s Confidential Informant, who was also a notorious gang member.
She felt uneasy in this environment despite the fact that she had been reassured that she was safe. Stern, the combat vetted soldier, stood just to the left of her, his senses on full alert. Castillo, the Law Officer, stood in the middle of the living room speaking in Spanish to his Confidential Informant, who appeared to be the alpha male that was the head of the household.
Castillo finally broke from his conversation and approached his two compa
nions. Nikki got to her feet as he got close, and the three huddled close together.
“He’s putting sentries out on the corners up to ten blocks out. If someone is coming for us, we’ll have about five minutes. But if they do come, we’re on our own. They want nothing to do with the “Federales”.” Castillo whispered to them.
“What about a place to stay?” Stern asked.
“This is it. For two days. They’re going to clear out, leave us be, but after that we have to go.”
Nikki watched as a woman in her twenties corralled two young children, and the two men in the kitchen gave final suspicious looks at them before slowly funneling out the front door.
Castillo pointed a finger at Stern. “Now you need to start talking. I want to know who the hell killed my partner, and why the hell I’m all of a sudden on the run and getting shot at.”
“It’s complicated.” Stern replied as he waited for the last of the Latinos leave the small, two-bedroom home.
“Try me.” Castillo replied.
Stern gathered his thoughts, and tried to figure out where to begin.
“You’re familiar with Coalition Properties, correct?”
“I haven’t been living in a cave.”
“Well then you know that they are the largest single corporation in the world, and that they have a hand in pretty much everything. Including owning and operating the largest private military contractor in the world, Coalition Assurance.”
“Whom you work for. I know this.”
“Yes. But what you don’t know, is that the guy who runs it all, Richard Brown, also ran rendition and torture squads during the Iraqi and Afghan wars. Think about that a minute. The man in charge of the most powerful private company in the world got there, literally off his ability to torture and kill people. Imagine what someone like that is capable of, not just overseas, but here on U.S. soil. I never thought about it before, but I see that so clearly now.” Stern told Castillo, verbalizing what he had come to realize over the course of the last three days.
“Three years ago, Alex Luthecker got into the head of his one of his best torture experts, and the next thing that happened, the guy offs himself in the parking lot, and Luthecker gets away.” Stern continued. “Brown never saw it coming, and he’s been obsessed with Luthecker ever since. Us contractors, we all thought it was bullshit, that Luthecker was a ghost. Brown’s White Whale. Hell, no one thought he even existed until I ran into him in the club, but we always did what we were told and kept looking because we all knew one thing for sure—you do not fuck with Richard Brown.”
“But he has Luthecker now. It’s over.” Castillo responded. “So why’d he send someone to kill her?” He asked, nodding at Nikki. “And why’d he send someone to kill you? One of his own?”
“Because he can.” Stern replied. “And he’s used to it. To him, it’s the simplest, cleanest solution. It’s how guys like him operate. I’ve seen it so many times during combat. Everything is threat assessment to Brown. It’s how he’s been trained. He’s terrified of Luthecker, and he thinks that because we’ve been “exposed” to him, we now see things a little bit differently, maybe even have a different worldview, and that can’t be allowed.”
He looked at Nikki for some sort of affirmation that what he was beginning to realize for himself was also true for her. She slowly nodded that it was, and he continued.
“And because we do see things differently, we’ve been deemed a threat. So my guess is he thinks that will happen with anyone who’s ever laid eyes on Luthecker. So in order to contain the threat he sees, it’s easiest to get rid of all of them. Make it like Luthecker never existed. It’s the only way a guy like Brown can be sure.”
“That’s insane.”
“There’s been a lot of insane shit happening in the world lately. Or haven’t you noticed?”
“Brown’s right.” Nikki cut in.
They both looked at her.
“We are a threat. Luthecker knows things about people, he shouldn’t. I don’t know how, but he looks right into your soul, and that changes everything.” She looked at Stern. “And I want to go further. I want to know more. Don’t you?”
Stern took a few seconds before answering.
“Yes. I do.” Stern finally admitted. “Because I’m sure there’s a lot more going on here than we know. Look, Brown may be a sociopath, but he’s no idiot. What this Luthecker guy can do must be huge, or he wouldn’t bother. And he’ll either destroy him, or use him to destroy others. That’s the other thing that guys like Brown always do.”
Castillo thought a moment, tried to make sense of all this information.
“So what do we do?” He finally asked.
“We go get him.” Nikki answered.
They both looked at her.
“Not exactly easy.” Stern responded. “But I agree. Because you’re right, I do want to know more. A whole lot more.”
“So you people want to break into the Coalition Properties West building downtown? Are you crazy? With the sophisticated security they have?”
“We don’t have any choice. They’re just going to keep coming at us if we don’t. And my instincts tell me the only way out of the problem is to get to the source of it. The answers lie with Luthecker. We need to get to him.” Stern replied. “Look, we can do this. Anyone can be gotten to. We just have to have plan.”
“I have to speak with my superiors first.”
“You’ll be arrested and handed over to Coalition. You’ve seen that happen already. And once you’re in their hands you’re gone forever. Do you really want to risk that?”
Castillo mulled it over. He feared Stern was right. He took a deep breath, and called it for himself.
“Okay. I’m in.”
“Good.” Stern replied. He started to pace, as he tried to put a plan together, thinking out loud.
“Now, I’ve been inside the building. The human security, it’s manageable, because
They’re not high-end soldiers. That’s because they don’t have to be. And they don’t have to be, because the electronic security systems are something else all together.”
“Let me work on that one.” Nikki added.
They both looked at her.
“I have a little program that can help us out. I just need a computer. A fast one. And a Mac, so I can access all my software and operating systems that I have encrypted on The Cloud.” She looked at Castillo. Can your confidential informant get one for me?” She asked.
“I can get you anything you want, as long as you don’t ask how.”
“Fine. I don’t need to know. What I do need is a Mac Pro 12-Core. Fully loaded with 64GB RAM and 2TB hard memory. And three monitors. I like to work with multiple screens.
Any Apple Store should be able to configure that on sight, if they have the hardware in stock.”
She looked at them both. She could see in their eyes that they neither understood what she said nor believed what she claimed she could do.
“I’ve designed one of the most elaborate futures-trading software programs in the world. She’s called Phoebe. She’s basically an extension of the minds’ ability to solve problems. With it there is no security system they have running that I can’t augment or break.”
Neither man reacted.
“Look; this is my thing. Whatever master system they have managing that building I can out think, I can outrun.” She said in defense of her statements.
The two men looked at one another.
“Don’t look at one another- look at me.” She commanded. This was her expertise, and the sexist reaction, no matter how subconscious it was on their part, was not going to fly.
They did as she asked, and both stared at her, unsure what to say.
“Anything else?” Stern finally asked.
“That should do for now. The sooner you can get me what I need, the sooner I can get started.”
THIRTY-ONE
END GAME
Alex slowly opened his eyes.
&
nbsp; It took him a moment to realize where he was-- lying in the bed of his Coalition Properties luxury cell.
He slowly sat upright, and tried to shake off the mental fog created by his unexpected collapse. He eyed an IV drip attached to his left arm. He followed the line up to the fluid bag, and squeezed it for a sense of the liquids’ viscosity. He watched the drip chamber for several seconds, studying the velocity and frequency of each drop. The most commonly used crystalloid fluid used for intravenous solutions is normal saline at .9 concentration, which is close to the concentration of blood, which is what he currently had flowing into his veins from the clear plastic bladder, he concluded. He felt reasonably alert and aware of his surroundings, all things considered, but felt neither stimulated nor sedated, which meant minimal to zero narcotics or depressants in the fluid mixture. He assessed that the IV was for hydration and nutritional purposes, containing a mixture of salts, glucose, amino acids, and various vitamins. They would want his mental process unobstructed and back to normal as soon as possible. He moved on to the next series of thoughts.
They had been kind enough to include a wall clock in the room, and it had been nearly twelve hours since he had had the “neurological incident”. He carefully reviewed the events that followed. His collapse had sent his captors into a panic. “Suspect Zero,” renamed the “Alpha Captor in Alex’s mind, was still in charge, and believed in the concept of complete and total control. That was easy enough to see. Anyone who claimed to be the “architect of history” clearly wanted control of all of it. The need for control was a derivative of fear, and as such the Alpha Captor feared much. He played out his fears on a worldwide-scale, as the need to show the video of the Chinese General exposed. The irony of this was that those who lived with fear were the easiest to control. This is where the man in the video, Zemin, and his rival differed. The Chinese General knew this toxic aspect of fear. His Alpha Captor lived in denial of it.
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