Pushing Brilliance

by Tim Tigner

  But each got a round off first.

  Both missed Casey. One flew past his right shoulder, the other his left ear. They pierced the inner glass wall instead. It shattered like a windshield, sending cracks out from the 0.9 mm bullet holes like giant spider webs, but the wall remained standing, thanks to the infrared film.

  I rolled forward as the Russians dropped, grabbing one of their bloody Glocks in each hand. Ignoring the pain in my back, I leapt to my feet with both weapons aimed and ready. For a second I was thrilled by my reversal of fortune — then my heart turned to ice.

  Vondreesen had a gun to Katya’s head.

  He’d popped it out of his sleeve and cudgeled Casey before bringing it home under her chin. As Casey dropped and Katya screamed and nine members of Congress looked on in abject fear, Vondreesen yelled, “Drop ‘em, Achilles! Before this really gets out of hand.”

  Adrenaline had slowed time to a snail’s pace, so half a heartbeat was all I needed to assess the situation. By aiming for the right corner of the fireplace, I’d limited the significant glass-blast damage to the part of the room where the Russians had stood. I saw a few flecks of red scattered among the congressmen, but no serious injuries.

  Vondreesen had knocked Casey unconscious.

  Katya was fine — other than having a gun pointed at her head.

  I couldn’t tell what the blast had done to my back, but I seemed to have full muscular control and wasn’t feeling woozy from blood loss, yet.

  Putting a bullet into Katya’s head would get Vondreesen nowhere but killed.

  I knew that.

  He knew that.

  I walked toward him without dropping my guns.

  He changed tactics. He looped his left arm around Katya’s neck and stooped to use her as a shield while pointing his weapon straight at my head.

  I kept walking.

  “I mean it. Not another step!”

  I stopped with about six feet between us, judging that to be the limit beyond which fear might provoke an irrational reaction. I looked over the barrel of Vondreesen’s gun to meet his eye. “What do I need to do to get you to release her?”

  While Vondreesen tried to puzzle out an escape scenario, I shifted my gaze to meet Katya’s wide-eyed stare, and added, “Do I have to drop and shout rape?”

  As Katya’s trigger word left my lips, I crouched to take my head below the immediate line of fire and sprang left.

  Vondreesen fired once, high. Purely a reflex move, a startled response. His subcompact adding one more crack to the succession of explosions that had pummeled our ears since I’d released the moon rock and tipped the first domino. His next move would have been tracking my lunge to his right, where I was open and exposed and ripe for the plucking. Just a trigger squeeze away from no-more-problem. Would have been, were it not for Katya.

  Before the echo of rape had died, Katya had bit down on Vondreesen’s hand and swung her fist back between his legs with all the ferocity her fright could muster. Instead of swinging off to the right, Vondreesen’s gun arm flew back toward center, coming home to cradle the jewels.

  As Katya wriggled free, I brought my fist down on the top of Vondreesen’s right hand, knocking the weapon from his grasp and breaking it free of the contraption that held it to his wrist.

  He glared at me with fiery eyes. It wasn’t Brillyanc burning there, but hatred unmasked.

  Drawing strength from the emotion, he lashed out with surprising force, throwing a rapid series of left and right jabs reminiscent of engine pistons, pushing me back toward the fire. Not wanting to shoot him point-blank and risk a through-and-through that could injure someone else, I tossed the Glocks and delivered a haymaker to the underside of his chin.

  He didn’t drop.

  He didn’t scream.

  He just kept coming like a possessed creature that had to let its demon out. Left-right-left-right. Punches with poor aim, but surprising force and relentless fury.

  I absorbed the blows and timed my move to grab his recoiling left wrist with both hands. Planting my heels as his right fist glanced off my shoulder, I swung Vaughn around like an Olympic hammer, using his own momentum against him while throwing him off balance. Releasing my grip at the end of a forceful three-quarter turn, I sent him flying backwards into the inner glass wall at the point where the Russians’ bullets had struck.

  He slammed into it with his shoulders and kept right on going, the shattered glass caving in around him, the film and flame turning it into a hot crystalline hammock. For a long second Vaughn hung there like an enormous fly embedded in the windshield, startled by his situation and shocked at having survived the impact, but unable to extricate himself.

  As the room looked on with rapt fascination, the added strain ripped the top of the wall free of the frame and gravity took over. Everyone gasped as the king of the castle plunged backward into the flames.

  Chapter 95

  Not Over

  VONDREESEN’S SCREAMS CRESCENDOED, and then ceased like a phone that stopped ringing. The cessation exposed a cacophony of distressed mechanical noise. As my imagination filled in the picture, the flames changed color and smoke started billowing forth.

  Everyone who had moved closer in a morbid trance now recoiled back from the smoke and the smell.

  Then the Burning Man extinguished, the grotesque sounds stopped, and the heat subsided.

  I looked over to see Casey beside a control panel on the wall. He’d flipped a switch.

  He was standing with a dazed look on his face and the Springfield by his side. I had no idea what his next move would be, so I closed the gap with three quick strides and grabbed the weapon by its warm suppressor.

  Casey didn’t resist.

  He let the Springfield slip into my hand.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a result of shock, or a tactical move. By some counts, he was next in line for a bullet.

  I slapped his shoulder with my left hand as men sometimes do, and turned my attention to Katya. She was sitting in the same place she’d landed after sinking her teeth into Vaughn. I walked over and held out my free hand. She took it and I pulled her up into my arms. “You did it again, Katya. That combination move of yours is amazing.”

  “Promise me that will be the last time it’s required.”

  “I can’t promise until this is over. But I can hope.”

  “What do you mean, until it’s over? It is over. Vondreesen is dead.”

  Before I could respond, Perma-tan shouted over the ruckus, authority in his voice. “Order! Order, everyone! Take your seats. There are decisions to make, and actions to take.”

  “Congressman Chip Tanner,” Casey said, stepping over beside us. I turned to see lucid eyes. His moment of shock had passed. Semper Fi.

  Tanner addressed his colleagues with a voice calm enough to quiet a child, but resolute enough to start a war. “What we’ve seen and heard tonight doesn’t change the rules. We still need to maintain absolute secrecy and complete anonymity. Perhaps now more than ever. Are we agreed?”

  A murmur of assent and a flourish of nods followed. Then a lone voice of dissent rose from the crowd. It came from an Asian woman who had not previously spoken. She was the group’s youngest member, by my estimation. “I don’t see how that’s possible. We’ve witnessed three homicides. There’s going to be an investigation. We’ll have to give testimony.”

  “No point in any of that,” Tex said. “Justice has been served. All we’d be doing is detracting from press coverage of issues that matter, and wasting taxpayer money.”

  “But we’ll be abetting murder after the fact,” she pressed. “We could be prosecuted.”

  Tanner wagged a finger. “With this many members of Congress involved, it’s a national security issue. We’re obligated to keep it quiet.”

  “If national security doesn’t work for you, consider this,” Neblett said. “If word does get out, the leadership will have no choice but to distance itself from us. We’ll never see public office again, an
d we can forget about lobbying, consulting, and speaking engagements. We’ll all become pariahs. And let’s not forget the executive involvement. To quote the distinguished gentleman from Texas, what would be the point?”

  Seven heads nodded back at the junior congresswoman as she looked around. She raised her chin. “I’ll bow to your greater wisdom.”

  Senator Collins picked up the ball. “I propose that we plan to leave here in the morning, the same as always.”

  She turned to Casey. “Mr. McCallum, to use the appropriate euphemism, are you capable of cleaning up this mess? If we can count on you for that, it will give us a three-month window to deal with the big picture. Something I suspect Mr. Achilles will be keen to help us with.”

  For my benefit, Senator Collins confirmed what I already knew from Kilpatrick. “Santa Barbara is part of my constituency, and the DA is a personal friend. I’m aware of your predicament. And your history of national service.”

  Casey was raring to help. “First thing I’ll need to do is confirm that nobody downstairs saw what happened. If anyone did, I’ll remind them of the rules. Then I’ll see to the cleanup.”

  “I’m with you, partner,” Tex offered, walking over to join Casey.

  Casey asked, “Any suggestions on disposal?”

  I mulled that one for a few seconds, then leaned in to speak with a quiet voice. “I’m no horticulturist, but given that this is an active vineyard of considerable size, I’m guessing there’s a fire pit for disposing of all the dead vines. Probably a woodchipper too.”

  Casey grimaced, but then swallowed it. Semper Fi.

  “Look on the bright side,” I said. “It’s not snowing.”

  “What?

  Tex got the movie reference, and put an arm around Casey’s shoulder. “The woodchipper scene from Fargo.”

  Recognizing that my attempt to lighten the mood was probably ill-conceived, I moved to change the subject. Picking Vondreesen’s tablet off the floor, I turned to Casey. “Can you unlock this?”

  “Try 1999.”

  “A reminder of the good old days?”

  Casey shook his head. “The year Vaughn’s net worth went from seven figures to eight. He called it his ‘no thanks’ year, because with ten million in the bank, he would forever be free to do whatever he wanted.”

  I punched in 1999.

  It worked.

  As Casey and Tex set about cleaning up, I went to settings and switched the tablet’s auto-lock feature to never.

  I turned back to Katya. “I’m going to summon Melanie, the woman who served us coffee during our first visit. We’ve got to figure out if she’s an asset, or a loose end.”

  “How could she be an asset?”

  “For starters, she’ll know if Boris and Ivan are the only enforcers, or if we’ve got more suits to dispatch. Also, we could use her help to clean up the mess. Both here and now, and then later with the bigger picture.”

  “But why? Why clean up at all? Isn’t this perfect? Isn’t this all the evidence you’ll ever need to get out of jail? Especially with what you told me about Casey.”

  “You’re right. I have what I came here for. But the picture has changed. It’s grown much larger, much more devious and complex. To make things right, I’ve got to go back to Russia, back to where this all began.”

  Chapter 96

  Angels

  AN HOUR LATER, the congressmen were back in their pods, ostensibly playing along as though nothing had happened, but no doubt whispering up a storm.

  Katya and I were on our way back to the library to regroup with Casey after a bit of first aid. I’d taken thirty-one pieces of glass shrapnel in the implosion. Fortunately, none of it had cut too deep. Katya had cleaned up my back with a pair of tweezers and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I’d be sleeping on my stomach for a few days, but it would heal without loss of functionality.

  “We need to talk,” Casey said by way of a greeting.

  “You’re damn right we do, but first things first. How’s containment looking?”

  “Six guests observed the barbecue downstairs. Tex and I have sworn them to silence. We put a little fear of the Almighty into them as well, in case they got second thoughts. You get the Russian situation figured out?”

  “Melanie confirmed that Boris and Ivan were the only suits on the premises.”

  “That’s good news. What’s her personal perspective on recent developments?”

  “Melanie appreciates both the legal precariousness of her position, and the danger she potentially faces at the hands of the Russians. She’s eager to help in any way she can.”

  “I bet she is. Now, if you don’t mind, I need those details that Vaughn mentioned. The proof of my innocence.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I mean, I’ve got you covered. Believe me. So long as you clean things up in Russia before the Russians start cleaning things up here, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  I studied Casey’s face. He seemed earnest. Relaxed eyes, steady gaze, no tension around his mouth. Plus, he’d spoken pretty definitively when he pulled the trigger on Boris and Ivan.

  “There’s something else we need to talk about,” Casey continued. “Something very important.”

  He motioned to the coffee table, where the five-thousand-dollar bottle of Louis XIII had miraculously remained intact, along with two of the four snifters. One still bore the lip marks of a dead man, the other remained untouched. “I’m ready for my drink now.” He picked up the clean glass and took a long sip with closed eyes.

  “I was so thrilled with Brillyanc,” he began, his tone wistful. “I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was like my brain went from six cylinders to twelve. I reveled in the power of my own mind. I used to rev it all the time, metaphorically speaking, like it was a Lamborghini. Just like you did with the Pi multiplication bit. A brilliant move, by the way.”

  He took another sip and shook his head. “I should have known it was too good to be true.”

  He lifted his gaze and locked his eyes on mine. “And the truth is even worse than you think.”

  I saw Katya dry swallow at Casey’s revelation.

  He plowed on. “But let’s get the Russian cleanup out of the way before we tackle that.”

  “Is Barsukov behind Brillyanc, or Antipin?” I asked, referencing GasEx’s Chairman and its CEO. “I’d be inclined to say Barsukov, since he seems to have the right personality, but then Antipin is a Vondreesen clone. An elder statesman with charm to burn. Seems to me they’re much more likely to be friends.”

  “It’s Grigori Barsukov. He’s been one of Russia’s leading angel investors for the last ten years, which is about how long he’s known Vaughn. They live on different corners of the planet, but travel in the same small, elite circles. Grigori isn’t charming like Vondreesen — far from it — but he’s got his own sort of charisma. Kind of an evil magnetism. And he’s very slick. He’s also very well-protected.”

  Casey put his arm on my shoulder. “I don’t know how you’re going to get to him. But I’m sure he’ll kill us all if you don’t find a way.”

  Chapter 97

  Priorities

  CASEY LOOKED GENUINELY CONCERNED. Having seen Grigori’s headquarters complex, I could understand why. The GasEx chairman worked in a fortress. “You said you met him at his office. Did he happen to invite you to his home as well, given that Vaughn is an old friend and you flew halfway around the world?”

  Casey raised his brows. “We did, but not because Grigori is a gracious host. He lives in his office. Literally. Like the US President lives and works at the White House. I think he enjoys the analogy. He cultivates it. He refers to his office as the East Wing and his residence as the West Wing.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Doesn’t the President work in the West Wing?”

  “Remember where he comes from. Grigori is KGB. East versus West. The reversal is deliberate, I’m quite sure. And as long as we’re on the topic and l
ooking at parallels, I’m sure you know what Kremlin means in English?”

  “Castle,” Katya said.

  “Right. And that’s where Grigori lives and works. His so-called Rocket is a modern castle. A fortress. He’s protected against assault by a wall, a gate, guards, and a lofty perch.”

  “We’ve seen it,” I said. “At least from the gate. So I’ve got that picture in my head. Did you get a look at the security inside?”

  “Not really. He brought us in by helicopter. When you’re flying in and looking down, a fortress is what comes to mind. There’s the main building with the pyramid on top, like the Washington Monument would look if topped with glass, but then each corner has its own square tower attached, making the footprint look like the classic X of a castle. Also there’s this.” Casey gestured to the room they were sitting in. “He chose literal castles for his American outposts.”

  “The Washington parties are also in a castle?” Katya asked.

  “I haven’t been there, but I’ve seen a picture. It’s an old limestone manor atop a hill on a large piece of secluded real estate. Definitely something that would both make William the Conqueror smile, and impress modern Washington’s elite. Which brings me to the main topic of our discussion.”

  My mind had been working that one in the background ever since Casey divulged that the truth was worse than we thought. “This is about the executive involvement Senator Collins mentioned, isn’t it? It’s about the empty tenth pod.”

  Casey gave me a grim look. “That’s right. Before he became the Vice President, Daniels was the junior senator from California. And before he ran for his first election, he was a friend of Vaughn’s. He was also one of the very first Brillyanc users.”

  “And he’s still using?”

  “He is. Vaughn visits him once a quarter. Brings Brillyanc with him. He spends the night at the vice president’s home, at the Naval Observatory.

  “So you see, this story can’t get out. It really is a matter of national security. If the press got word, there would be a major global scandal. Members of both the executive and legislative branches of government using a mind-altering drug that causes dementia. The Brillyanc scandal would dwarf Watergate and Benghazi.”