Killing the Giants

by Jeff Bennington

  Sarah shook her head. “Never mind. Come on. We’ve got to get you two out of the lobby. Let’s go upstairs.” She waved Blake and Dennis on, leading them to the elevator.

  Dennis looked at Sarah and back at Blake and then rapidly lifted his eyebrows up and down, clearly enthralled with Sarah’s appearance. Blake glanced back at Dennis, gave him a firm punch in the shoulder and followed Sarah. Dennis grunted and stumbled, but kept moving.

  Sarah stepped inside and pushed the button for the third floor.

  “Listen, Blake. I got a call tonight from my friend, David Liggin,” she said. “He’s the man I told you about earlier. He’s got a lot of contacts and nearly a crystal ball when it comes to global events. He called me tonight…to warn me.”

  “Warn you about what?”

  “I don’t know. He’s on his way right now.”

  Blake smirked and leaned his back against the elevator wall. “Is that why we’re here…because some old man’s got a hunch? I thought this was life or death?”

  Sarah reached into her purse, grabbed her gun and inspected the cartridge. “Maybe it is. But there’s only one way to find out.”

  Dennis stared at the gun and said, “Don’t worry about Blake, miss. He knows how to take care of himself.”

  Blake looked at Sarah and rolled his eyes.

  The elevator lifted, dinging with each level passed.

  “You do, Blake! I swear, you don’t ever ge—”

  “Shut up, Dennis! Listen to the lady, would ya!”

  “Okay,” replied Dennis, shamefaced.

  “You don’t understand; Dr. Liggin doesn’t act on a hunch. He’s come across some information concerning the investigation. And I’m telling you, he wouldn’t tell me to be careful if his information didn’t have merit. And from what I’m hearing, I think PPI is caught in the middle of a matrix of events, initiated by one of these societies…most likely Caesar.”

  “Then why are we a threat?” Blake asked as they exited the elevator and began walking down the red-carpeted hallway toward Sarah’s room.

  The elevator bell rang. The doors slid opened.

  “They know about you, Blake,” said Sarah, standing in front of the elevator doors. “And they told Jonathan you that were coming to kill him.” She took a step forward. “Come on, this way.” She led the two men into the hallway and to the right.

  “How would they know about me?” asked Blake.

  “Someone told Caesar. And I’m sure they’re watching us right now, tracking our every move. If they think we pose a threat to their agenda, we could be in serious danger. I think that’s what Dr. Liggin wants to talk to me about.”

  Sarah stopped walking and Blake grabbed her shoulder. Dennis stood across from Blake, staring into the peephole in the adjacent door.

  “All right, Sarah,” said Blake.

  Sarah turned around and looked at Blake. The hallway lights gleamed in his eyes. “I trust you,” he said. “And that’s saying a lot, ’cause I don’t trust anyone else right now.”

  Sarah stuck her key card into the door and said, “Good.”

  Blake put his hand on the doorframe near Sarah’s face and looked at her just as she began to turn the handle. “So what do we do now?”

  Sarah pulled the key card out of the door and turned toward Blake.

  “We wait.”

  • • •

  Dennis stared at the television, halfway paying attention to Sarah and Blake’s conversation. They had been discussing the investigation at a small table near the window of the hotel room. They made a backup plan in case anything unexpected happened—a common practice for Sarah

  “Listen, Sarah,” said Blake. “I don’t know much about political science or global economics. I’m just a simpleminded oilman. That’s all I’ll ever be. But it’s hard for me to imagine why anyone would kill so many people for money.” Blake pulled the window curtain open and peeked outside. “I know that people will always be people, but I thought we were a more civilized society.”

  “We should be,” replied Sarah.

  Blake closed the curtain and looked at Sarah. “I thought higher education was supposed to enlighten us. I thought you pencil pushers had all the answers.” He looked at Dennis sitting on the bed picking at his toenails.

  Sarah grimaced after looking at Dennis. “In some ways we are enlightened, Blake. Our knowledge base is growing exponentially, but our character seems to be in decline. I think our technologies have made it possible for our morality to slide without the historical consequences.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe, our decline in principles is catching up with us.”

  Blake looked at Sarah. “You mean their decline in principles. I know a lot of folks who don’t think like they do.”

  “Yeah. I guess. We may be smarter, but today the human race is like a pack of wolves with PhDs. We’re more intelligent and cunning than ever. We can navigate and communicate anywhere in the world. We can solve previously unsolvable problems and see far into the cosmos. We have night vision, satellites, spyware and Hubble technology. But the fact is we’re still wolves. When we get hungry, the hair on our back stands up and our teeth snarl and we growl.”

  Dennis looked at Sarah, smiled and howled like a wolf.

  Blake wadded up a hotel flyer that stood on the table and threw it at Dennis. It hit him square in the face. Dennis jerked his head back, grunted, and said, “So-rry!” with a smirk.

  Blake turned his attention back to Sarah. “Anyway, why do we let the powers that be do what they do? There are so few of them and so many of us! How did they ever get control?”

  Sarah chuckled, noticing the muscles climbing up Blake’s neck. “That’s a good question. But the better question is when have they ever not had control?”

  Blake growled. “Wasn’t there a time when men and women could live free without the fear of Big Brother watching over their shoulders? I know it sounds cliché, but what ever happened to the good old days?”

  “I suppose,” said Sarah, standing up. “Our lives are far more comfortable than other generations and cultures could ever dream of. Maybe these are the good old days. Maybe the good old days weren’t all they were cracked up to be.” She walked toward the refrigerator, opened it and asked, “Water?”

  Blake waved off her offer with a sweep of his hand. “No thanks.”

  She grabbed a bottled water and closed the door. “In my studies, I found that there’s a recurring pattern found throughout many civilizations.” She twisted the cap open and gulped down a few quick swallows. After wiping her lips she said, “The pattern goes like this: A people are free. They form a central governing body. The governing body slowly becomes corrupt. The people revolt. The revolt is squashed and a dictator takes control. Finally, through several changes in power, the people finally regain control again. Unfortunately, the pattern repeats itself until the group is conquered or self-destructs. In our case, I fear America is past the corruption stage and on the verge of revolt.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I deal with the kind of mess that PPI has created every day, and it’s getting worse. It seems like our government and big business are just becoming more and more intertwined and blatantly corrupt. I fear that we may be on the brink of nihilism.”

  “Nihilism? What’s that?”

  Sarah set her bottle on the table and stood next to the window. “Nihilism is the phase when the common class revolts, utterly frustrated with the central government or the controlling elitist party. At this stage, there’s always a cleansing, if you will, through mass execution and internal terrorism. Nihilism is what happens when you put a hundred starving lab rats in a cage with one fat rat that has plenty of food. You can only imagine the result.”

  Blake looked away and thought about Penny and his girls.

  “That’s exactly how I feel. I can’t do anything to change what they’ve done. It’s a very hopeless feeling. That’s why I came here to kill Mr. Stalwart. It isn’t an American t
hing or a Canadian thing. This is a human thing, a freedom thing. If it’s going to take a revolution to free ourselves from those bastards, then so be it!”

  “Maybe that’s what it’s going to take. But it seems like most Americans are too apathetic, too uninterested in politics. Besides, it’s my job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  Sarah turned toward Blake, put her index finger to her mouth and said, “Shhhh.” She pointed toward the door.

  Blake shot a cold glare at the door.

  Dennis rolled off the side of the bed and hid under a blanket.

  Sarah quietly walked up to the door and looked into the peephole. She saw three men standing there. They were clean-shaven and dressed in black. The man knocking on the door had short black hair and a well-manicured goatee. He wore black leather gloves, a black jacket and sunglasses, and was smoking a cigar. Sarah could smell his cologne and the cigar smoke that permeated the door, an improvement from the musty odor that saturated the building. The other two men towered over the first and stood at attention, seemingly waiting for their orders.

  Sarah looked back at Blake and mouthed, “Get your gun!” She tiptoed toward her purse to get her Lady Smith. The man continued knocking. Sarah checked the chamber of her gun and then directed Blake to go to the bathroom.

  Blake reached behind his back to get his pistol. He quietly walked into the bathroom and positioned himself to attack. Sarah gripped her gun tight, holding it close to her chest, and walked back to the door.

  Chapter 26

  Jack

  Sarah peeked through the tiny hole. “Hello?”

  “Sarah Perkins?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to talk to you,” the man whispered.

  “Who are you?”

  “I can’t say. Please just open the door before someone sees me.”

  “Let me see your hands.”

  He raised his hands, showing both sides, palms first, then the back of his hands.

  Sarah looked at Blake, her brow twisted. Blake crouched down near the bathroom sink and shook his head.

  Sarah nodded and made a tackling gesture with her arms, pointed at the door and then mouthed, “Three, two, one.” She turned the dead bolt and opened the door.

  The stranger slowly entered the room. Sarah kept her distance, cautiously backing away from the door. The man stepped inside and before he could say anything, Blake ran out of the bathroom and grabbed the man by his neck. He put him in a headlock with his left arm and put his gun to the man’s head with his right hand.

  “What the hell?” said the man, choking and struggling to keep his balance. His two henchmen reached into their coats and grabbed their guns. Blake put more force on the man’s neck, grunting and gritting his teeth, until the stranger finally submitted, lying limp in Blake’s arms. The man’s glasses were forced to one side and his cigar fell to the floor.

  “Tell them to stand down!” shouted Blake.

  The man tried to talk, but nothing came out. So Blake applied more pressure and repeated himself.

  “Tell them to stand down! Now!”

  “Okay. Okay! Back off guys!” he grunted. The men obeyed his orders and laid their weapons on the floor.

  “Kick ’em over here,” commanded Sarah.

  They kicked the guns toward Sarah and she picked them up and tossed them on the nearest bed.

  “Who are you?” Blake grilled the man. They were close enough that Blake could smell the man’s breath.

  “Jack…Jack Wilson.” He coughed. “FBI.”

  Sarah stood there with her gun pointing at Jack. Blake pushed the door with his foot, self-locking as it closed.

  “Frisk him, Sarah,” ordered Blake.

  Sarah patted him down, checking for any other weapons.

  “He’s clean.”

  Blake pushed Jack down to the floor and the man collapsed, gasping for air.

  Blake stepped back and pointed his gun at Jack. “Sorry about the rough treatment pal, but a friend just called to tell us that our lives are in danger, and now here you are knocking on our door.”

  Jack tried to catch his breath. “It’s…okay…I’d…do the same thing.”

  “Do you have any ID?” asked Sarah.

  “Yeah…right here.” Jack pulled out his wallet and showed his FBI badge to Sarah and Blake. He put his hands on his knees to rest.

  Sarah looked at him, checking his facial features, and asked, “What do you want?”

  “I want to save your life,” replied Jack. “Caesar’s planning to have you killed tonight. And it’s my job to do it.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed.

  Jack said, “We’ve infiltrated their organization and I’m one of them. It’s taken us five years to get this far. We’re making progress, but we don’t want to spook them. They know about you and the investigation, and they want both of you dead. And they always get what they want. Unfortunately, I have to obey their wishes. Caesar expects to hear about your demise in the morning.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Blake, relaxing his gun. “How are you involved in this?”

  Jack took a deep breath and loosened his collar. “My department is an internal investigation unit that’s highly top secret. Caesar’s infiltrated the FBI and State Department leadership. Only a handful of federal agents know about us. We’ve got to get you both out of here as soon as possible. My supervisor has already contacted yours and you are officially off the case. We’re going to fake your death and the death of Mr. Driscole here. Then while you are under our protection, you can assist as necessary.”

  Blake helped Jack to his feet and then Jack sat down on the bed.

  Sarah asked him a string of top-secret questions about the federal government, her department and the name of her boss. He answered all of her questions correctly. She called her supervisor to verify. Jack was legitimate. Convinced that he was telling the truth, Sarah and Blake packed up their belongings and left with Jack and his men. They said nothing to Dennis.

  Sarah was shoulder-deep into this and she didn’t want to put Dennis at risk too. Before they left, Sarah went into the bathroom and left a note for Dennis on the mirror. She used her lip liner as a means of communication.

  Dennis,

  Pay attention! You have to follow us, but don’t get too close. And try not to look suspicious! Write down license-plate numbers, names and addresses. When you know where we are, go straight to the JFK airport. I’m leaving you my cell phone. Call Dr. David Liggin ASAP. Tell him everything that happened. He’ll know what to do. Be careful!

  After Jack and the others left the room, Dennis crawled out of the blanket and went to the bathroom as previously instructed via Sarah’s backup plan. Dennis agreed that he would go to the bathroom to get further instructions if anything strange happened. This certainly qualified. He wasn’t the brightest person, but he could read and he was loyal. He read the note, grabbed the phone and picked up Blake’s keys. He immediately ran out of the room. By the time he got to the first floor, he saw the group walk out one of the side doors, and then toward the back of the hotel. Dennis slipped out the front entry and made his way to Blake’s truck. Once inside, he started the engine, slouched down and waited for them to leave. He was very sneaky. For once, Dennis was doing something right.

  • • •

  Jack and his men ushered Sarah and Blake into a white unmarked van parked in the rear of the parking lot. Once they were crammed inside, Jack introduced Sarah and Blake to the rest of his team. The two large men that accompanied Jack were Rob and Russell, twins from Ohio, both new to the agency and the muscle behind the team. They sat in the front two seats. The tech team consisted of Mark, an IT wizard, and Heather, a British-born linguist who could speak several foreign languages.

  Sarah looked at the interior of the van and marveled at the wall-to-wall surveillance equipment: super sound amplifiers, parabolic dishes, micro GPS trackers, real-time tracking systems, covert tactical cameras and f
iber-optic scopes. All of their equipment had been neatly organized on one side of the van. The other side of the van consisted of a twenty micro-screen video monitoring system run by a dual-spy software package.

  Jack removed the wiretap from under his shirt and took off his bulletproof vest. “You can’t be too careful,” he said, stretching his sore neck from side to side. “This case is getting more and more dangerous every day. You’ll find out what I mean soon enough.”

  “I thought you were going to get rid of us,” said Sarah.

  “Officially, yes; technically, no. After tonight, you’ll both be dead on paper. But this…” Looking around the inside of the van. “This is your new home. At least for now.”

  Mark chimed in and said, “Just be sure you don’t touch any of my equipment.” He sat on his swivel chair with his scrawny, freckled arms crossed and red hair in a ponytail.

  “Sorry,” said Heather, shaking her head. “He’s not much of a team player!” She smiled, and reached out her hand to shake. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Heather, and I’ll be your tour guide on this godforsaken ship.”

  “Come on,” said Jack. “We don’t have much time. We have to kill you!”

  Chapter 27

  The Meek

  East 21st Street, New York City

  Jonathan was invited to have dinner with Senator James McCutchen and Joseph Heinrich to discuss his future with Caesar. Jonathan played the game very well. And after his brief time with Sarah and Blake, he no longer felt alone. Still fearing for his family, afraid of being found out, he became more and more determined to stick with the plan and fight against the corruption. He wanted out, but he wanted out alive.

  The three men planned to meet at the Fleure le Sol, a French Restaurant on East 21st Street in Manhattan. The maître d’ sat Jonathan with his associates. Both Joseph and James stood up to welcome him. Joseph gently put his hand near Jonathan’s back, as a welcoming gesture, but also as a sign of his position. He was a senior member of Caesar, a lifetime member of Skull and Bones and an honorary member of the Trilateral Commission. Joseph had recently turned seventy-two years old. Although short, frail and growing weaker by the day, Joseph spoke with authority.