by Rob Jones
“My mother was innocent! The Americans needed a scapegoat and my mother was in the wrong place at the wrong time. For this, she was savagely killed by your so-called criminal justice system.”
Grant stared at the man, unsure whether to feel pity or rage. “You can’t seriously be suggesting the entire American people deserve to be punished because your traitor mother leaked defense secrets to the Soviets?”
Kiefel ignored the question. “After you murdered my dear Mutti, I was sent to live with my uncle and aunt in East Berlin. My father, as you may know, had died many years earlier in a farming accident. I was only a few months old. I grew up comforted by what was left of my family in the East, Mr Grant. There was nothing for me here after the murder.”
“It was a legally-sanctioned execution after due-process! Elfriede Kallweit was found guilty of conspiracy to commit espionage and sending and receiving communications with Soviet double-agents, Kiefel. You’re wrong, damn it!”
The German ignored Grant totally, and turned to the gum-chewing Angelika beside him. “You know where to take this, meine Liebling. Start work on it right away.”
They kissed and he watched Angelika and the men take the box from the room.
“Fräulein Schwartz might look like a common punk to you, Mr Grant, but she is also a very accomplished chemist. Soon, I will have a weaponized version of this ancient doomsday machine, and then I really will be able to have some fun.”
“Fun? What are you talking about?!”
Kiefel smiled and stroked his beard. “As I said, that is for me to know and you to find out.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Devlin and Lea emerged from the Taxi on Tolka Quay and squinted in the Dublin rain as they walked the final fifty yards to their destination.
Lea looked at the junkyard through the rainy night and shivered. The sign above the gate read O’SULLIVAN’S SALVAGE. “Are you sure we can trust these guys?”
“Sure, what do you think I am – some kind of eejit or something?”
Lea smiled. “Sorry.”
Devlin opened the heavy gate and swung it open to allow them both through. They dodged the puddles as they walked to the front office, lit low in the damp night.
Devlin knocked three times and took a step back.
A gravelly, low voice replied. “Come in, Danny. We don’t want anyone hanging around out the front, do we now?”
Lea followed Devlin into the office, watching him carefully for any body language triggers. It was cold in here, and she could see her breath clouding out in front of her. Worse, the whole place stank of old engine oil and brake fluid and one of the overhead lights was faulty. It flickered on and off like a horrible yellow strobe and put her on edge.
An overweight man with a shaved head and thick moustache got up from his desk and padded over to them. Behind him, through a doorway that opened out onto a large workshop, a taller, thinner man with a long ponytail leaned against a car crusher with two muscular, tattooed arms folded high over his chest.
“Good to see you Danny Boy,” said the first man. He smiled to reveal at least two missing teeth.
“Likewise, Mikey,” Devlin said.
They shook hands and then the man looked at Lea. His eyes crawled from her face down to her boots and then all the way back up again. “And what have we here?”
Lea stood still and said nothing.
Devlin took a step forward and partially blocked the man’s view of Lea. “This is an old friend of mine, Lea Donovan. Was in my unit. If you fuck with her you’ll be sorry.”
The man returned his gaze to Devlin. “Is that right?”
In a flash Lea elbowed Devlin out of the way, pulled a gun from her shoulder holster and pushed it into the folds of fat on the man’s wide neck. “Sure it’s right, ya great big lunchbox. Wanna try me out?”
A long moment of awkward silence followed and then the man burst into laughter. A second later Ponytail started laughing as well, and unfolded his arms.
“Oh… I like her, Mikey,” Ponytail called through the door.
Lea holstered the weapon and took a step back, winking at the man.
“Lea Donovan, please meet Mikey O’Sullivan here with the barrel mark in his neck and Kyle Byrne hiding back there by the crusher. Pay no attention to either of them,” Devlin said coolly. “Mikey’s a real kingding at times and they can both be a couple of dry shites if they lose on the horses, like tonight, I’m guessing.”
Mikey and Kyle exchanged a glance.
“Hey guys,” Lea said casually.
“Good to meet you, Lea Donovan,” Mikey said. “Now, Danny and Lea – would you like a drink to keep the cold out?”
They agreed to the drink and a moment later they were sitting around the desk. Mikey pulled a bottle of Irish whiskey from the drawer and poured out four doubles into old, chipped mugs.
Lea peered into hers with suspicion.
Mikey raised his mug. “Well, sláinte!”
Like it or not, Lea thought, she had to drink from the mug. She had done worse. She picked it up and they all chinked them together.
Devlin spoke first. “Not seen you around Dublin for a while, Mikey.”
“I was over in Edinburgh visiting me brother. Old mate of his lives there – Graeme. We all hook up now and then in Kelly’s – an Irish pub in Old Town that’s always jammers. Had a few good times there I can tell you – the craic was ninety, Danny, I swear it. Great city – some of the best pubs I ever went to. You should go.”
“I’ll do that,” Devlin said.
Lea sighed. “I think we’re moving away from the point.”
Danny looked at Lea and then to Mikey. “She has a point…”
Mikey smiled broadly. “Just sayin’…”
Kyle looked at Mikey and shook his head. “All right, so where are we at?”
“Where we’re at,” Lea said, “is that we need some help.”
Kyle nodded. “Some muscle, you mean?”
“Call it what you like, but we need it.”
“And you do owe me, Mikey,” Devlin said. “You’ll recall that little problem you had with those Roach muppets in Tyrone…”
Mikey looked embarrassed. “Sure, and I’m a man of my word, Danny. You shall have your help.”
“We don’t even know what they want yet!” Kyle said.
Mikey got serious. “It doesn’t matter what they want, Kyle. I gave the man here my word. So Danny, what is it you want?”
“Lea can answer that better than I can.”
Mikey poured more whiskey. “The floor is yours, Miss Donovan.”
Lea took a breath. “It’s like this… when I was a child my father was murdered right in front of my eyes. We were walking together out on the coast. He was going to teach me how to take a photograph. I had to go back to the car to get something for the camera, and when I got back he was gone. My father was there one minute, looking after me, and the next I was alone. They found his body at the bottom of the cliffs and ruled suicide.”
“So how can we help?” Kyle said quietly.
“It was no suicide, Mr Byrne,” she said. “I saw a man running from the cliffs. He was dressed in black from head to foot – he looked weird. I can’t tell you how, but there was something about that man. He pushed my father off the cliff, I just know it in my heart.”
“But you didn’t see it happen?” Mikey said.
Lea shook her head. “My father never threw himself off a four hundred-foot cliff while he was looking after me, Mr O’Sullivan. He was a loving, kind man – a doctor who dedicated his life to healing people. If he was going to do anything like that – which he never would have even considered – he would hardly have taken me along with him to watch, now, would he?”
“So why did they rule it a suicide?”
“Simple. I was a young girl and they decided I was an unreliable witness. They said I had imagined the man in black in my grief, but I saw him running before I even knew my father was dead. The man in black murdered my father, Mr O
’Sullivan, I know it.”
“All right, I believe you. But I still don’t know why you’re talking to me.”
“Very recently I received information from a reliable source that an old friend of my father’s, a Sean McNamara, was brutally murdered in his home in Cork. Sean McNamara and my father had worked together on some kind of research relating to the medical industry a very long time ago.”
“What research is that?” Kyle said.
Lea shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. But I do know they were both killed for it, because before he died, McNamara sent a message saying he was killed by the same men who had killed Dad.”
“And now you want revenge?” Mikey said.
“I want to know who killed my father and Sean McNamara, yes…and revenge wouldn’t go amiss either, but what I want more than anything is my father’s life’s work – research files I never even knew existed until now, but now I know were the reason he was murdered by that bastard in black.”
Mikey gave an understanding nod and took more of the whiskey. “So where do we start?”
“My parent’s old holiday home on the west coast in Galway. It’s still ours, but no one’s been there for years. I think Dad’s research is hidden there somewhere.”
Mikey slammed his mug on the table and wiped his mouth. “Kyle, go and get some guns and any other treats you can think of. We’re going on a picnic to Galway.”
Kyle rose from the desk. “Sure thing, Mikey.”
He returned a few moments later with a look of concern on his face. “One thing’s already bothering me.”
“Speak up, Kyle!” Mikey said.
“Well…” As he spoke, he casually pulled a sawn-off shotgun from a sports bag and began to load it. “Thing is, we know these pricks have already killed twice, sure. But what bothers me is the quarter of a century gap between the two murders.”
Devlin nodded. “That’s what I’ve thinking about. It’s not your usual gangland hit or revenge murder. These guys are playing a long game, and are as cool as sea ice.”
“Whoever they are, they’ve had it now Mikey O’Sullivan is on the case!”
“If you say so, Mikey,” Kyle said sarcastically.
“I do, Kyle, I do.” Mikey rubbed his stomach and yawned.
“So let’s get going,” Devlin said, pushing back from the desk and finishing his whiskey.
Lea paused for a moment. This wasn’t just any old mission as far as she was concerned. This was something altogether different. This was about her father and she was already allowing her emotions to cloud her judgement. “Thanks, everyone, I really appreciate this.”
“Not at all,” Mikey said, patting her on the back and nearly knocking her over. “Come on Kyle! Get a move on!” He turned to Lea and lowered his voice. “Kyle’s a lazy shite. If there was work in the bed, he’d sleep on the floor – you know what I mean?”
Lea smiled. “So you’re both going to help then?”
“Sure,” Mikey said. “But there’s one condition.”
Devlin eyed him up suspiciously. “I knew it! And what would that be?”
“We’re taking Ciara,” Mikey said. “I’m not making a journey like this without my Ciara.”
Kyle rolled his eyes.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hawke and Kim Taylor approached the heavily-armed PFPA men guarding the external doors at the entrance to the Pentagon. The Pentagon Force Protection Agency was a civilian law enforcement organization within the command structure of the Department of Defense. It was assigned to protect not only the world-famous Pentagon but also the Mark Center Building and other smaller DoD facilities in the city.
Kim showed her pass and Hawke followed her as she navigated her way deftly through the labyrinthine defense headquarters until they finally reached Brooke’s sprawling suite of offices. They passed more yet guards at the door to the outer office of Brooke’s private secretary and after a brief word with his personal assistant they entered a bustling, noisy room full of men and women talking into cell-phones and vying for their boss’s attention.
Hawke took a look around the hectic office. “There are more guns around here than at your average firing range.”
“He’s the US Secretary of Defense and next in the presidential line of succession, plus we’re in the middle of our worst terror attack, Hawke,” Kim said, keeping her voice to a whisper. “What did you expect?”
Point taken, he thought. “We still need to speak to him.”
He looked over at Brooke. Alex was beside him as an assistant was now directing the boss’s attention to one of the many plasma screens neatly fitted into the far wall of the Secretary’s office. Everyone in the room watched in silence as a second helicopter drone appeared on the capital’s horizon and fired another Hellfire missile.
This time the target was the Lincoln Memorial, and a collective gasp of horror went around the room as the north side of the impressive monument exploded in a massive fireball. A few seconds later a grisly, black column of smoke billowed and plumed into the night sky, lit yellow by the memorial’s powerful floodlights.
“It’s another drone, sir!”
Brooke slammed his fist on his desk. “I can see that, damn it! Just blow the god-damn thing out of the sky like the last one.”
Another flurry of phone calls was made, and Hawke watched as two F-15s flew over the city, one of them firing an AIM-9 Sidewinder missile at the drone. The enemy aircraft tried to take evasive action and dodged the missile, but the USAF fighter jets were too fast for it and after firing another heat-seeking Sidewinder they hit the target. Everyone in the room cheered as the drone exploded above the Potomac and crashed into the water in an orange fireball.
“Now’s our chance,” Kim said.
They stepped over to Brooke’s desk.
“Mr Secretary,” Kim said.
Brooke looked at them distractedly. “What is it? Oh…” His face warmed for a moment when he saw Hawke. “Joe, hi.”
“We need to talk, Jack.”
“Shoot – but make it fast. As you can see, those sons-of-bitches somehow just got another goddamned drone up.”
“It’s about the Smithsonian.”
“What about it?”
“It’s Frank Watkins, Jack.”
Brooke smiled for a second and nodded his head. “How is the old bastard?”
“Dead, sir,” Kim said.
Brooke’s face dropped. “Dead?”
Hawke nodded. “Professional hit, and more than that – we found the President’s order on his desk – the one sanctioning the release of an object from Archive 7.”
“I can’t believe Frank’s dead… You think he was murdered by Kimble’s men?”
“We can’t be sure at this stage.”
Brooke paused as he took the news on board. “So what did Kimble order from the archive?”
“We don’t know what was released, or to whom, but whatever the hell it was, something very bad went on in that Archive, Jack. We found two men turned to stone.”
Brooke’s eyes widened with shock. “Turned to stone?”
Hawke nodded again. “But here’s the thing – when we mentioned it to the President he just shut us down – told us point blank to leave it and get back to the White House.” Hawke lowered his voice. “I think President Kimble is covering something up.”
Brooke looked at the two of them, glancing over his shoulder as an admiral brushed past him with a cell-phone in each hand.
“What is it, Dad?” Alex asked, suddenly concerned.
Brooke didn’t reply.
Alex tried again. “Whatever the hell you know about this, Dad it’s time to bring us in.”
Brooke was silent for a long time before replying, his face tormented by indecision, his mind torn in two directions – his duty to protect national security interests on the one hand but his responsibility to help Hawke, Kim and Alex as much as possible to stop the threat on the other.
“Come with me.”
&
nbsp; He led them out of the main office into a smaller ante-room and closed the door.
“This is my private office. We can talk in here undisturbed.”
“Sounds serious,” Alex said.
Brooke ignored the comment. “What I’m about to tell you is highly classified. In fact, it’s the second highest classification we have.”
Hawke, Kim and Alex took their seats and watched the Defense Secretary as he thought about what to say next. This shit right here, Alex thought, is why my parents’ marriage fell apart.
“Back in the late sixties, the international political landscape was very different to today. We were in the middle of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, and our foreign policy was, accordingly, slightly more…”
“Paranoid?” Alex said.
Brooke gave his daughter a withering glance. “I was going to say slightly more interventionist than today. You had to be there to understand how it was. Like today, covert intelligence gathering was a big part of that policy. We had listening stations all over the world in a bid to intercept communiqués passing back and forth between the Kremlin and various Soviet client states around the world. These proxy states – Cuba, North Vietnam, Mozambique – were very important to the USSR as part of their plan to expand communism around the world.”
Hawke glanced at his watch. “Jack, we’re short on time – I think we’d prefer the Bluffer’s Guide if that’s okay with you.”
Alex winced, knowing that few people could talk to the Pentagon chief like that and get away with it, but when her father cracked a quick smile and leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head, she knew Hawke had worked his magic on yet another unsuspecting soul. Maybe it was the accent, she thought.
“Sure, I’m sorry. The bottom line is simple. The NSA commissioned the construction of a listening station in northern Norway – a strong NATO ally since 1949 – with a view to monitoring radio signals in the far north arctic region. You wouldn’t believe what the Russians get up to up there… Anyway, so far so good, but here’s where it gets its classification level. With the construction of the listening station going on up there it was decided to attach a science station alongside. Having the two side by side was a big saving in funding.”