by C. G. Cooper
Two minutes later, the remaining teams pulled up. Cal gave the men a quick rundown of the scheme of maneuver. A minute later, the small assault force spread across the barren terrain, anxious to find out the fate of MSgt Trent.
+++
Zimmer didn’t see anyone in the hallway. He didn’t know where to go, but he correctly assumed that the holding cells were on the lower level. Running, he tried opening each door he reached. Every one was locked.
After a couple minutes of random wandering, Brandon stopped and got his bearings. I don’t have much time, he thought. Just then, the butler from the observation room exited one of the hallway doors.
“Congressman, how may I help you?”
Well, at least they haven’t alerted the security staff yet.
“I, uh, think I left my cell phone up in the observation room.” The excuse sounded lame but the man seemed to believe it.
“I would be happy to get it and bring it to you in your vehicle, sir,” the butler replied respectfully.
“That’s okay. Just point me the right way and I’ll grab it.” Zimmer tried to act as nonchalant as possible. The last thing he needed was to have the butler in tow.
“I am afraid that it not possible, Congressman. Visitors cannot travel alone inside the building. Now if I can escort you outside…”
Zimmer’s patience ran out. Instead of letting the man finish, he closed the gap and delivered a vicious uppercut into the unsuspecting man’s stomach. The butler doubled over. Zimmer caught him on the way to the floor and propped him up against the wall.
“Now you listen to me,” Zimmer whispered into the man’s ear. “You take me to my friend right fucking now.”
The man still struggled to breathe but nodded his head. Zimmer felt remotely guilty for assaulting the aged servant, but he didn’t have many options at the time.
“Which way?” asked Zimmer.
His captive pointed to the door he’d just exited.
“Is it locked?”
The man nodded.
“Give me the key,” ordered Zimmer.
Half bent, the butler obliged by giving the Congressman a key ring and indicating which one to use. Zimmer grabbed the key with his right hand and the back of the man’s collar with his left. Half dragging his guide, Brandon unlocked the door and moved inside.
+++
Ishi came to. Lying just outside the open door of the Escalade, he struggled to get his bearings. He suddenly remembered Zimmer’s fist connecting with his head. Shit! Where is Zimmer?
The younger Nakamura rose and looked around frantically. His vision was still blurry and he stumbled back against his vehicle. Just as he regained his balance, he looked up and saw what looked like a line of men approaching the building from about fifty yards away. Was he seeing things? The men jogged closer and Ishi panicked.
Jumping into the driver’s seat, he started the large SUV, put it in drive, and gunned the gas. He squealed out of the parking lot as he fumbled for his cell phone.
+++
“Shit. Who was that?” Cal asked in a whisper. No answer came. He knew time was up. The first team to the building had already reported seeing employees through the upper level windows of the large industrial complex. They’d approached from the opposite side and found a door. Gaucho had already taken care of the lock with his pick set.
Cal didn’t like going in blind, but what choice did they have?
The teams stacked up just outside of the unlocked door. Cal nodded to Gaucho, who winked back.
The small man opened the door quickly and the teams filed in, weapons drawn.
+++
Miraculously, Zimmer and the butler didn’t run into any other staff on the way to the holding cells. What Brandon didn’t know was that after the commotion of the fight, Trent was swiftly thrown unconscious into his cell and the remaining security staff had run upstairs to assist the unsettled guests. They’d then been tasked with riding along as an added precaution. The building was, therefore, currently undermanned.
Zimmer stepped up to Trent’s cell. To the right of the door was a small red button that the butler said would open the portal. Brandon pressed it and looked inside. Trent had been unceremoniously tossed just inside the door. He seemed to be stirring.
“Top!” Zimmer whispered as loudly as he dared.
Trent turned his head slowly and looked at Zimmer through foggy eyes. “That you, Congressman?” he croaked.
“Yeah. Can you make it through the door? I don’t want this damned thing to lock us both in.”
The tough Marine nodded and got to all fours. He bear crawled through the doorway. Once out, Zimmer grabbed the butler, shoved him into the room, and closed the door. He double-checked just to make sure the lock was secured.
“Do you think you can walk?”
“Yeah.” Trent stood on slightly shaky knees and shook his head. “I’ve gotta get this collar off. I could live without another one of those shocks.”
Despite the gravity of the situation, Zimmer chuckled. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
Zimmer led the way, still not running into any Japanese personnel.
“Where did everyone go?” Trent asked.
“I don’t know. I think…did you hear that?” Zimmer whispered.
Trent nodded and nudged his way into the lead. They could see a bend just ahead. It sounded like muted footsteps coming their way.
“Let’s go find out who that is.”
Zimmer looked at the huge black man, still wearing only a loincloth. “You think that’s a good idea, Top?”
“Trust me, Congressman. Whoever that is, they’re in for a world of hurt.” Trent cracked his knuckles and sprinted off toward the bend.
+++
The assault team hadn’t run into any resistance. While that seemed odd, no man complained. They’d searched most of the lower level. Eventually they came to a section that looked older yet well-maintained. Gaucho looked back at Cal for direction. Cal gave a thumbs-up.
They moved swiftly down the corridor, checking doors as they went. All were locked and there didn’t seem to be any need to open them yet. They approached a bend as Gaucho signaled the group to stop. Listening carefully, they clearly heard something. Was that bare feet running their way? Weapons readied, the elite team of SSI operators waited calmly for the approaching runner. The sound got closer when all of a sudden, MSgt Willy Trent, resplendent in his stylish loincloth, rounded the corner and skidded to a halt in front of Gaucho.
“Well I’ll be damned. What’s goin’ on, Gaucho?” Trent asked.
Muted laughs rose from the normally disciplined men. The relief they all felt was almost palpable. They had their man back. Just as Cal walked up to see Trent, Congressman Zimmer trotted around the bend. Cal looked past his friend and pointed his finger at the politician, “You son of a bitch, I thought I…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, Cal,” Trent said calmly as he held his friend back. “If it weren’t for the Congressman, I’d still be locked up in this Japanese dungeon. Lay off, alright?”
Not easily dissuaded, Cal took a step back. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow the Congressman was responsible for the setbacks they’d suffered.
Turning away from Zimmer, Cal addressed his men. “Get us the hell out here, Gaucho.”
The team leader nodded and guided them out without anyone saying another word.
Chapter 20
Atlanta, Georgia
11:49pm EST, September 17th
Tom Jablonski pulled his rig into the distribution hub. Driving from Las Vegas wasn’t hard. He’d made similar trips for years. It didn’t hurt that he was getting paid a serious bonus for arriving on schedule. He wished every cross-country trek was as lucrative.
Waving to the security guard, he pulled up to the guard shack. An extra spotlight blazed on and cut through the midnight blackness.
“Paperwork please,” asked the tired looking, middle-aged sentry.
The driv
er handed over the manifest.
The guard reviewed the documentation and checked his computer to see which terminal to direct the driver to. “Head over to Thirty Seven. Honk once or twice for the loading guys,” the man instructed. The bored security guard handed back the paperwork and waved the semi through.
Jablonski was familiar with the routine. He’d been to the hub earlier in the month. Pulling into Terminal 37, he honked twice. He knew from experience that the loading crew would take a minute. Working the graveyard shift meant napping when you could.
After a couple of minutes, three men made a slow exit from the terminal building. Two headed for forklifts and one headed to the truck.
Jablonski hopped out of the cab and handed off his paperwork. After a second to review, the foreman with sleep in his left eye looked up.
“Says you got some electronics set for priority shippin’.” Jablonski couldn’t tell from the southern drawl whether it was a question or a statement. Better to be nice and get out of here quickly.
“Yeah. I think they’re cell phones.”
Surprisingly, that perked the foreman’s interest. “Hey, they aren’t those new smart phones everyone’s waiting in lines for, are they?”
“I don’t know, man. They just tell me where to take ‘em,” Jablonski replied.
“You mind if I take a look? My kid’s been buggin’ me about getting her one of those damned things. I ain’t gonna shell out four hundred bucks for one though!” the man flashed the driver a dirty grin.
Jablonski had seen this same routine countless times. Oops a pallet fell off the truck and a couple pieces fell out. But Tom was an honest driver. He’d never stolen from his shipments and once scolded his own son when he’d suggested doing so.
“Hey, man, you think we can just get these things unloaded so I can go? It’s been a long haul.”
The foreman looked at the truck and finally nodded. “If you can get the back unlocked, I’ll have my boys get ‘er done in a half hour.”
Tom Jablonski thanked the man and headed to the back of the trailer. Another hour and he’d be in bed, counting his cash bonus.
Chapter 21
Las Vegas, Nevada
11:03pm, September 17th
The SSI operators made it back to the Bellagio without incident. Along the way Trent and Zimmer relayed the entire story of their capture and the arena battle. Cal wouldn’t admit it, but he was surprised by the Congressman’s decision to go back for Trent. It would’ve been really easy for him to get in the car with Ishi and head back to Vegas. Instead, he’d returned to the lion’s den and saved Cal some precious time.
Cal, Brian, Neil, Trent and Zimmer were all comfortably seated in Patel’s suite. MSgt Trent looked refreshed after a hot shower and highball of Famous Grouse. He continued his story. “I’ll tell you what, Cal, these are some sick fuckers. Who the hell does that kinda shit anymore?”
Cal sipped his drink and pondered the same thing. What had they stumbled on? Underground fights to the death, women for hire, a blackmailed politician; the whole thing sounded too farfetched to be true. He still had more questions for Zimmer.
“Congressman, did you recognize any of the men you met?”
Zimmer shook his head. “They never gave me any names. I’m thinking these guys may be more behind the scenes.”
“Any other impressions?”
The Congressman took a sip of his drink and let the question sink in for a second. “I’m not gonna lie to you. Most of the time, I was scared shitless. I got the feeling that I was some kind of pet to them. They looked at me like…I don’t know how to describe it. They were looking down at me. It felt like…”
“You were less than nothing,” Trent completed.
“Yes. Talk about xenophobic. These guys stick with their own kind,” Zimmer finished, still wondering where everything was headed.
Cal stood up and walked to the window. “From here on out, the Congressman stays with us.”
“But what about Nakamura’s instructions?” Zimmer asked on the verge of panic. He could only imagine what would hit the media without his cooperation. The bloody videos would quickly destroy his life.
“Do you really want to go back with those guys?” Cal asked almost angrily. “My job was to find out who these guys are and to keep you safe. I can’t do that unless you stay here. For now, we need to take the chance. Maybe we call their bluff. I have a feeling that you’re an important part of their plan. I don’t think they’ll jump the gun.”
“How do you know that?” Zimmer blurted. “How do you know they won’t take those videos and plaster them all over the Internet?”
“I don’t, Congressman. It’s called a calculated risk. Besides, it’ll all be a moot point soon.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we’re gonna take these motherfuckers down.”
+++
After some further planning, the team dispersed to their new rooms. They were all exhausted and they’d have an early morning wakeup call to start executing Cal’s plan.
In all the commotion, Cal had completely forgotten to call Daniel Briggs. Despite the late hour, he figured the sniper might still be awake. He swirled the last remnants of his drink as the phone rang on the other end.
“Cal?”
“Hey, man. Sorry I didn’t call earlier.”
“Everything okay?”
“I wouldn’t really say that, but they’re better than they were a few hours ago.”
“Anything I can help with?” Daniel offered.
“I don’t know, man. Tell you what, why don’t you come by my hotel room at eight tomorrow morning. By then we’ll be done with our meetings and I might have some questions about Vegas that I’ll need some insight on.”
“No problem. I’ll be there fifteen to eight.”
Cal chuckled. “Once a Marine…”
“Always a Marine,” finished Briggs. “Every gunny I ever had told me that being on-time was being late.”
“Me too, Brother.”
Cal relayed the hotel and room number and they said their goodbyes. What the hell am I gonna to do with the scruffy sniper?
Next, he placed a call to President Waller. The man was still awake and requested they conference in the other members of the Council of Patriots. After five minutes, everyone was on the line and Cal gave a rundown of everything that had happened.
“How soon until Neil gets all the way into Ichiban’s network, Cal?” Waller asked.
“I’m not sure, sir. He’s having some trouble because of the level of sophistication.”
“Any thoughts on what they’re after?” asked President Kelton.
“None yet, sir,” answered Stokes. “I’m not getting a good feeling about the convention though. Is there any way we can get it postponed until we know more?”
Waller answered first, “Can’t do it, Cal. As much as I hate to put so many people at risk, we don’t know if that’s their endgame yet. Just make sure you keep us in the loop and we’ll alert the authorities if needed.”
There were a couple more questions from the Council, but nothing was really resolved. They were all anxiously waiting to see where the investigation would lead. They’d learned to be patient men during their time in office. It was a trait that Cal didn’t have. The Marine in him wanted to take out the enemy…now.
Chapter 22
Las Vegas, Nevada
6:47am, September 18th
After a couple hours of sleep, the SSI team met over a mound of room service food. Cal had reluctantly allowed Zimmer in on the meeting. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Neil, please tell me you have SOMETHING we can work with,” Cal mumbled through a bite of chocolate croissant.
Neil looked like he’d been without sleep for a week. His usually impeccable dress was marred with countless wrinkles and more than one food stain. It wasn’t like the computer geek to go this long without cracking into a system.
Patel yawned and waved away a coffee refi
ll offered by Brian. “Okay. So like we talked about before, Ichiban Gaming’s main source of legitimate income is from consulting. Early this morning, I finally got past their last firewall. You wouldn’t believe how far these guys reach. They’ve got contacts all over the world.”
“Anything we can use?” asked Trent.
“I’m not sure. What I can tell you is that in recent months they’ve consolidated a lot of their assets. At first glance it looks almost random, but these guys are pretty methodical. They’ve divested the majority of their American stock and now own a huge portfolio of real estate and commodities like gold and silver.”
Zimmer chimed in. “That’s nothing new, is it? Haven’t the Japanese had a huge interest in our economy since the eighties?”
“Yes, but this is one entity. I’m also seeing a lot of dead ends. They’re reporting internal expenditures that are getting spread across hundreds of banks around the globe. A hundred grand here, a few million there… Since they’re a private company, they don’t have to make this stuff public.”
“Can you see where the money’s going?” Cal asked.
“Of course, but it would take me weeks to track the end accounts. Most likely they’re wired to an initial banking center then routed again multiple times. It’s a real maze. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had some internal system for tracking their stuff. There’s no way I can access that unless I’m inside their server room.”
“How hard would it be to get inside that room?” Cal’s mind was already running with possibilities.
“Almost impossible,” Neil said matter-of-factly. “Besides, I’m sure they probably have some kind of kill switch to destroy all the evidence in case of an investigation.”