The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1)

by C. S. De Mel

  ***

  Friday, December 3rd, 1999

  Bruce had been called into Fort Bragg regarding a matter of some urgency. He hadn’t been filled in on the details, but he was told it would be brief and would not require deployment. Owing to these facts, Bruce had decided that this would be a great opportunity for Alex and himself to make a road trip out of the journey.

  They had left from New York early morning in a rental car. It was a nine-hour drive to get to the base but get there they did, and the army base did not disappoint. Alex was overwhelmed by the sheer size of Fort Bragg. In fact, he felt intimidated by it. After all, this was one of the largest military installations in the world and home to the United States Airborne and Special Operations Forces.

  Upon arrival, they made contact with Frank Cormac, who had lodging reserved on base. Sensing Alex’s tension, Frank and Bruce took Alex on a quick tour of the grounds and gave him a chance to meet some of the soldiers in Frank’s squad. After getting the ins and outs, Alex felt a lot more comfortable with his surroundings and was now ready to really enjoy his stay. With any luck, Alex was hoping to have some strings pulled so that he could go up in one of the planes and witness airborne jump training firsthand. But before anything of the sort was arranged, Bruce had to take care of his obligations.

  He entered the private office of Brigadier General Ferrell Mann. Also present in the office was a friend of the Legion, Colonel Marvin Braggs. They both stood up from their chairs. Bruce saluted them both, then stood at ease, his arms behind his back. “My presence was requested, General?”

  The general nodded. “Yes, Captain...” Colonel Braggs stared down at the floor, avoiding Bruce’s eyes. Bruce suddenly felt uneasy; he realized that this was something he didn’t want to hear. “It has fallen upon me to deliver this news to you.” The general stared down Bruce, who watched him with unblinking eyes. “Effective immediately, you will no longer be serving with the United States Army and will be receiving an ‘Other Than Honorable Discharge’.” Dead silence. The words the general spoke washed over Bruce like a blast furnace. He was stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He could not believe what he was hearing. “You have been barred from reenlistment into any branch of the Armed Forces. These actions are in direct response to the recent controversies you have brought upon yourself and your government, by being a member of the quasi-military organization known as the Omega Ops Legion.”

  Bruce stared out the window, into the army grounds. He placed the tips of his fingers to his forehead, still trying to wrap his head around what was going on—to collect his thoughts. He made eye contact with the general. “There must be something—someway this can be—”

  The general raised his hand to silence Bruce. “The orders came down from the higher-ups. The decision is final.”

  “I can’t believe this. Twenty years of service, thrown to the wayside, just like that?” Bruce shook his head, as if trying to clear a bad memory. “The controversies? General, surely you know what Omega Ops Legion duties entail. What they’re saying—the press...it’s not true. I mean, what, Bohemian Grove? As far as I am aware—”

  Once again, the general raised his hand. “That’s enough. Do not—talk to me about Bohemian Grove. Do not mention the Bohemian Grove in my presence.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “This is what I believe. I believe that the public opinion regarding the integrity of you—of the Legion—of the United States military and our very government has been brought into question. And they don’t know what the right answers are. Do you know why we lost in Vietnam? Lack of public support. For you to remain in our ranks would only further exacerbate the situation. We have to distance ourselves from you. Your discharge will be made public knowledge.”

  Bruce was breathing heavy. “We’re there to aid and serve the public, just like any other organization that upholds the law. There’s no sinister agenda, no giant conspiracy, and that’s the truth.”

  The general sat down in his chair and placed his hands on his desk, fingers interlaced. “Let me tell you something about truth. Timing and patience are infinitely important. You can have all the truth and righteousness on your side. But if you’re in the minority—if your preaching falls on deaf ears willing to live in a world of lies...well then, your truths are liable to get you killed.”

  “General, these actions will undercut the Legion’s influence and effectiveness at the political level. This is going to create a rift where there doesn’t need to be.”

  “Well, now you are free to fully devote your time to help bridge that impending rift.”

  Bruce gritted his teeth. “This is bull-shit. General.”

  The general directed his hand to the door. “You are dismissed. Mister Kasparov.”

  Bruce looked to Colonel Braggs. He shook his head. “It’s out of my hands, Bruce—I’m sorry.”

  Bruce nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” He solemnly walked out of the office and gently closed the door behind him.

  ***

  The news had come as a shock to everyone. Bruce had returned back to the lodge and told Frank and Alex what had happened. Like Bruce, Frank was having a very difficult time processing this information. But for Bruce’s sake, he forced himself to repress his negativity. “C’mon, Bruce, let’s go out to a nice restaurant. Dinner, a few drinks—we’ll keep cool heads and figure this out. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

  “Yeah, Dad, it’ll be good to just get out of the base and talk things over.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. Their decision was final.” Bruce sighed. “Thanks for the dinner offer, but I’m just going to stay in tonight.”

  Frank shrugged. “Okay, that’s perfectly fine; we can stay in for the night. I can set you up right here.” Frank opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He reached into the mini-fridge and withdrew a tray of ice.

  “We can order a couple of pizzas for dinner,” Alex suggested.

  Frank pointed at Alex. “Excellent idea.”

  “Okay for pizza, Dad?”

  Bruce forced a smile. “Yeah—sure.”

  Frank lined up three glasses and popped ice cubes into them, one by one. He poured a liberal amount of scotch into each glass and handed them off to Alex and Bruce.

  Alex took the glass, laughing. “I can’t drink this.”

  “Just for today, you’re going to be old enough. Bruce, what do you say?” Frank asked.

  Bruce rubbed his chin. “Make that drink last, Alex, ‘cause it’s the only one you’re getting all night.”

  Alex grinned. “Yeah? Alrighty then.”

  The three of them sat down on the beds and clinked their glasses together. Frank and Bruce finished theirs off in one gulp. Alex took a little sip and his face cringed. “Oh my god, this is awful...”

  Frank laughed. “It’s an acquired taste.”

  Bruce looked into his glass and swirled around the ice cubes. “You know, I actually don’t feel anything really...just numb all over. Kind of in a good way, if that makes sense. Like this is a new beginning—a new chapter, you know?”

  “Well, that’s a really mature attitude to have about the situation. Bruce, I commend you. You’re a bigger man than I.” Frank refilled Bruce’s glass, along with his own. “I would’ve kicked in a door by now.”

  “Whatever happens, Dad, things will work themselves out. They always do, somehow,” Alex said optimistically.

  “Yeah.” Bruce raised his glass. “Here’s hoping.”

  As the evening carried on into the late hours of the night, the bottle quickly emptied. Alex had the pleasure of hearing some of Bruce and Frank’s stories from their times together in the Special Forces. The pizzas they had ordered (Meatlover’s and Hawaiian) were inhaled between the three of them at an astonishing rate. But none of this could make them blot out what had happened.

  “I still can’t believe they blindsided you like that, Bruce.” Frank put his hand on his forehead and dragged it down his face until it rested on hi
s chin. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Bruce.” It seemed that Frank was actually taking the news harder than Bruce was. “Goddammit, it shouldn’t have happened like this!”

  “It’ll be okay, Frank,” Bruce said, patting him on the back. Frank had consumed most of the bottle by himself. Bruce had a few, but wasn’t much of a drinker.

  Frank pointed to the bottle on the dresser. “Send it.”

  Alex picked up the bottle. “Wow...it’s almost polished.” He handed it to Frank.

  Frank held the bottle upside down until the last drops fell into his glass. “That’s it, guys. Any takers on this?”

  Bruce waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s all you, Frank.”

  Alex had already set his drink aside. He had drank half of his initial drink over the course of several hours and left the rest—he didn’t care for it. The ice had completely melted in his glass.

  ***

  It was now past three in the morning and Frank was passed out in his bed. There was another bed and a pull-out sofa. Bruce was more than willing to take the sofa, but Alex insisted that he would take it. The two of them were still up talking. Alex was a little tired, but he wasn’t going to go to sleep until his dad did. There was a long break in the conversation and Bruce let out a long sigh. Alex felt it prudent to address the elephant in the room—the topic they had been avoiding since Frank went to sleep. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dad. It sucks like hell.”

  “Yeah.” Bruce closed his eyes. “The end of an era.” He meditated on this fact for a moment, then opened his eyes again.

  “So, what are you going to do now?”

  “I’m not entirely sure... I guess all I have now is the Legion.”

  Alex thought about his father’s words. “You know, Dad—there’s something I’ve always wondered about. You were in the army alongside the Legion. But the other people in it—Mr. Santos...Varick...do they have other jobs?”

  Bruce shook his head. “Nope. I mean, Varick had a police career prior to the Legion, but Santos has never worked a nine-to-five a day in his life.”

  Alex scratched his head. “But how does that work? How do they make ends meet?”

  “Well, it depends. There’s a few ways. Because there are many people in the Legion fully devoted to its cause. Now, I’ll give you the big picture here. As you know, the Legion is international. We have members and solid branches of the Legion on every continent.”

  “Even Antarctica?”

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.” Bruce paused and put a finger to his chin. “But come to think of it...we do actually have one member stationed in Antarctica.”

  Alex scoffed. “Get outta here.” He narrowed his eyes at Bruce. “Really?”

  “I kid you not.”

  “Was he banished there or something, for some terrible wrong he committed against the Legion?”

  “Nope, he chose to live there. His own free will.”

  “Permanently?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  Bruce laughed. “Yeah, but getting back to what you wanted to know. Some do odd-jobs from time to time—temporary things when they need it. Varick does that occasionally. Also, we have wealthy financial backers. Some are part of the Legion, some aren’t. And Legion members help each other out. I really have no attachment to money—Santos too. And as you know, we grew up together. What’s mine is his.

  “And that’s it?”

  “Well, there is one other method in how we finance our operations and supply the members who require it. Slush funds.”

  Alex did a double take. “Slush funds? Aren’t those illegal?”

  “Well, it’s a murky term—it could have illegal connotations.”

  “Oh, so you’re referring to slush funds in a legal sense?”

  Bruce scratched his head. “Well, this is what it is. We have these Legion slush funds set up in banks all over the world. Legion members as well as people that support us contribute to these funds. But I would say the majority of these funds consist of money and assets recovered from criminal operations that we’ve dispersed.”

  Alex was in shock. “What the hell, you mean dirty money? Shouldn’t that kind of thing be turned over to the police?”

  “Well, if you think about this rationally...”

  Alex felt like he got slapped in the face. “So, if you were to bust up some drug ring and find millions in dirty drug money, you keep all of it?”

  “What!? No!” Bruce thought about it for a second. “Well, yes...but just let me explain. We don’t keep it for ourselves; we redistribute it. We take only what we need for the organization to stay afloat, and the rest is redistributed back into the community, charities, that sort of thing. And let me tell you something about the police—they do the exact same thing. Criminal assets are used for police resources and redistribution back into the community. But here’s the difference: we do it better. We can get the stuff back out there, where it needs to go, much quicker than the police. That’s the beauty of the Legion: virtually no red tape. And I think, for the most part, we have our priorities better in line for redistribution of such assets.”

  “Wow—that’s... I just find it really surprising that the Legion operates like that.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Well, would you consider it immoral?”

  Alex thought long and hard about this question. He supposed it was the same as the police... “I guess not, Dad.”

  “Then I have one final question. Do you still want to continue your training? To become a full-fledged member of the Legion?”

  “Yes.” Alex clenched his fist. “Hell, yes.” Alex saw the first genuine smile on his dad’s face since the news of his discharge.

  “I know I promised you a fun weekend, Alex, but—”

  Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. Tomorrow morning, let’s go. Let’s head back to New York.”

  ***

  Chapter 19 – Cooling Wounds

  Saturday, December 4th, 1999

  Chital Co. Tower, Manhattan, 3:00 p.m.

  Scorcher was seated in the top floor lounge with several of his cronies. His hand was covering his face, and his amber eye peered through the gap between his fingers. “Well? Where do we stand?”

  Ramon Salazar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, Scorcher, sir—we still don’t know.”

  Scorcher looked at Tony Calzone. “You put this brain-dead mook in charge of this?”

  “Well, there have been a lot of complications...”

  “Oh my god. Are you telling me that in this day and age, your combined forces could not find the address of a house? One house in New York City. Are you actually telling me this?!”

  “I’m telling you that his house is completely off the grid. As far as we can tell, he doesn’t receive mail, no phone line...maybe a private line or something. We tried following Kasparov—whenever we get a bead on him, he either takes our guys out or simply turns a corner and vanishes.” Tony looked at Scorcher intensely. “He knows.”

  “Well, what about his son?”

  “We tried following him too, right out of his high school. He’s being protected as well.”

  Scorcher’s amber eye blinked. “You guys are idiots, I swear to god. The whole lot of you—absolutely useless! If Pike wasn’t in jail, I’d get him to punt all your asses to the moon.”

  “Scorcher, there’s something else you should know.” Ulysses Frost leaned in and whispered so that only Scorcher could hear. “We received confirmation that Turly is dead. Solly got him.”

  “...Solly? Unbelievable. That’s just what I needed to hear. We were already hurting with him basically destroying everything we had in Queens, and now this? That wrinkly bastard hasn’t caused me enough trouble yet?!” Scorcher shook his head violently. “Okay-okay, one thing at a time. First, we need to get a fix on Bruce’s address.”

  “Scorcher, there is another way. Anoth
er angle we can do this from to acquire the location. I’ll take care of it,” Frost reassured.

  “Good. I have faith in you, Frost. These other idiots don’t know how to zip up their own trousers.”

  Hachiuma stepped out of Scorcher’s office and stopped by the lounge. “The Master is on the line. He requests both of us present, Scorcher.”

  Scorcher waved Hachiuma forward. “Wait, we need to hear this. Frost, what’s your method?”

  “You know about Kasparov’s first son?”

  “Yes...of course...the one that went astray.” Scorcher’s eye lit up. “Would he know?”

  Frost shook his head. “No, he would be too young to know. The family separated when he was a small child—but the mother would know.”

  “Where is the mother?” Scorcher questioned.

  “Still in New York, close to her son. I’ll get the information we need from her.”

  “Good. Perfect.” Scorcher stood up and eyed Hachiuma. “At least now we have a bone to throw so we don’t get chewed up.”

  Scorcher and Hachiuma entered the office. The red light on the desk intercom blinked silently. Scorcher walked over to the desk and let his finger hover over the button until Hachiuma gave him the nod. The button was pressed and Scorcher cleared his throat:

  “Master, we’re here. Hachiuma and myself.”

  The intercom buzzed. “It’s been a month. I expected it done by now.”

  “I apologize. We assigned the task to Tony Calzone and his men, but they ran into several—”

  “You try my patience. I explicitly told you no excuses. Scorcher, what have I taught you? If you can’t do the task yourself, you get someone who can. If you can’t do either, then you’re useless to me.”