Head of the Serpent (A John Stone Action Thriller Book 4)

by Allen Manning

  “I have something to show you,” John said.

  Though he was not as muscular as John, Gavreau was just as tall. The tension permeated the space between the two, a near tangible presence.

  “You have 10 seconds to convince me, Stone.” Gavreau’s hand lowered from his radio.

  “Brassard has been receiving payments from someone. Matthias Keppler was handling the transfers,” John said.

  “I hope you do not think baseless accusations are going to sway me,” the RAID commander said. His anger made his French accent thicker.

  John nodded and moved one hand slowly toward his pocket. Gavreau’s pistol remained firmly aimed at John. He pulled the key drive from his pocket and tossed it casually toward the RAID commander.

  Gavreau caught it with his free hand, the heavy revolver never wavering.

  “What is on this?” he asked, holding up the drive, eyes still fixed on John.

  “I got it from the apartment of Dietrich Byrne. That was just one of Matthias Keppler’s many aliases. Those files are Keppler’s financial records,” John said. “Brassard’s name is in there. Multiple times. I think he’s been working for someone else for a while now. I’m sorry, Gavreau.”

  “How do I know you are telling the truth?” Gavreau asked.

  “I didn’t have to come find you, but this was too important to let go.”

  Gavreau paused, then nodded slightly.

  John pulled the notebook from his back pocket and held it out. “I found this with the drive. I don’t speak German, so it’s no good to me. Maybe it will help your investigation.”

  “Okay, I will look at them. Give me your number, and the address where you’re staying, and I will get in contact with you,” Gavreau said.

  “With all due respect, I’d rather not. I’ll get in touch with you later,” John said.

  John figured they would know the first hotel he was staying in after the hospital incident. He had to move and didn’t want them to know which hotel he had chosen after that.

  Gavreau raised his 44 Magnum for a second, contemplating just arresting Stone on the spot. John remained calm throughout the entire encounter. He finally relented and lowered the revolver. Gavreau gave him a short nod, and John backed away into the shadows. He holstered his pistol and turned the key drive over in his fingers.

  “Chris. Please don’t let this be true,” Gavreau said to himself.

  CHAPTER

  12

  John sat in a window seat in the train, traveling from Lyon to his hotel. The lights of the city flashed by, lulling him into a trance. He needed rest, and this would be an excellent time to catch up. But his meditation was disrupted by his phone ringing. He saw Parker’s number, figuring he was calling with updates to his research.

  “Parker, what’s up?” John asked.

  “John, I checked out Gavreau and his team. They’re clean, at least where Keppler’s ledger is concerned.”

  “That’s good enough for now. I gave Keppler’s files to Gavreau,” John said.

  “There’s something else on those files. It might be a clue to what the Four Serpents are planning,” Parker said.

  “What is it?”

  “I looked up all the names in the ledger, and most of them are people suspected of terrorism, or on some type of watch list. One of them stood out. Jean-Paul Rolland. This ledger you found will go a long way to help shine a light on some pretty bad guys. This guy stuck out as different, though. He’s not the type normally―”

  “Parker, please. Get to the point,” John interrupted.

  “Oh right, sorry.” The programmer was brilliant at his work but had a tendency to ramble when excited.

  “Yeah, anyway, this man, Rolland, set up an annual convention, the Science Summit on global warming. You’re not going to believe your luck, John. It’s happening in Paris, right now,” Parker said.

  “What do the Serpents want with Rolland?” John asked.

  “I looked closely at his background and nothing jumped out,” Parker said. “So, next I pulled up a list of the people presenting their research there. I cross-referenced the names with their respective fields, and one raised some red flags. I figured you might agree that this has to be more than just coincidence.”

  John sat up straight shaking the sleep out of his head.

  “Dr. Steven Takada is a scientist and engineer from San Fransisco. He’s going be there giving a talk about weather patterns, and climate change caused by catastrophic events. The presentation is about using global weather satellites to increase the accuracy of predicting storms.”

  “Parker, you’re straying off topic again. How does that raise any red―”

  Parker continued. “Trust me, John, I haven’t strayed. The thing is, Takada’s isn’t a climatologist. His latest research has been on the development of kinetic weapon technology,” Parker said.

  “What is that, exactly?” John asked.

  “Are you familiar with the Lazy Dogs from the Vietnam war?” Parker asked.

  “I’ve heard a little. The US military dropped thousands of solid steel slugs from a high altitude onto hidden targets under soft cover.”

  “Yes, that’s it. The theory was that the slugs, about 2 to 3 inches long, would generate terminal velocity when dropped from high enough. The mass of the projectiles would be able to penetrate deep into the ground, into the tunnel systems used by the Viet Cong. Now imagine that weapon system, but scaled up,” Parker said.

  “How big are we talking?” John asked.

  “Right now Dr. Takada’s projectiles are about ten times larger. Approximately two and a half foot tungsten-rich rods, optimized for striking at longer ranges. The delivery system is an unmanned aerial vehicle. The UAVs are capable of carrying about a dozen of these bad boys,” Parker said.

  “What type of damage are we talking?” John asked.

  “A single rod alone would be devastating. It could bring down a five-story building, at least. It’s a weaponized meteor strike. A dozen of them, patterned just right…” Parker said, letting his statement trail off.

  John let out a long sigh. The Serpents paid Jean-Paul Rolland, which meant they must have some inside knowledge of the summit, including Dr. Takada’s presence. Parker was right, this couldn’t be a mere coincidence.

  “Do you know how far along his research is?” John asked.

  “The formulas and calculations are complete. Right down to the level of accuracy, and destructive force. As far as the development of the physical weapon system, I don’t know.”

  John had to assume at least a prototype of the system could be close to completion. The Four Serpents might be going to kidnap the doctor and force him to finish the weapon for them. That was a scenario that he couldn't let that happen. If they had even one of those rods, the results would be catastrophic, but if they had the ability to make and deploy more, the level of global terror would shift dramatically.

  “I have to get to that summit. I can’t let the Serpents get to Takada.” John said.

  “Should we warn Gavreau?” Parker asked.

  John thought about it for a moment. “No, he’s gonna have his hands full dealing with the corruption in his team. Besides, I’m not sure I want him knowing what I’m going to do. He might try to stop me.”

  “This is getting way out of hand, John. You can’t do this by yourself,” Parker said.

  “Parker, if I can grab Takada before the Serpents do, I can end all of this.”

  The train slowed to a stop at the station near his hotel.

  “I have to go. Send me everything you have on Dr. Takada, and the summit,” John said.

  Parker sighed and paused, contemplating trying to talk some sense into his friend, but he knew it was no use. “Will do, John.”

  John stepped off the train and walked quickly to his hotel. He would have to get to Paris as soon as he could. Time was running out.

  * * *

  Orsay, France

  Lionel Gavreau sat at the desk of the
small office in his home. He held the flash drive in his hand, staring at it. John Stone gave him the notebook and drive before dropping a heavy accusation against Christopher Brassard. One of Gavreau’s own. RAID was like a family to him, and Brassard was a brother.

  Who was Stone, to accuse his brother of treason? He thought about smashing the device on the spot, pressing his thumb firmly against the plastic case. This could be a trick, used to delay him from coming after John to arrest him.

  Then why would he meet me alone? Gavreau thought. To make the trap more believable?

  He fought against the doubt and uncertainty, finally inserting the drive into the data slot on his computer. His body stiffened, prepared for whatever would show up.

  The device opened automatically when inserted, a subroutine on the drive seemingly bypassing the login window that popped up. Gavreau stared at the directory of folders within. This was the information John found at Keppler’s apartment.

  One file opened itself, and Gavreau let out a shocked breath when he saw the contents. It was a list of money transfers Keppler had arranged, all sent to Christopher Brassard. The dates of the transactions went back years.

  Gavreau clenched his fists. He wanted to smash his monitor and make the damning evidence disappear. This wasn't possible. Rage flooded through him. At Chris’ betrayal. At John for this trick, to cause him to doubt his team, his family. Because the American revealed evidence of something happening under Gavreau’s nose for all these years. He closed his eyes tight, squeezing tears free.

  After several deep, shaky breaths, Gavreau regained his composure and opened his eyes, forcing himself to read everything Stone wanted him to see. His vision blurred from the tears. He wiped them away and kept reading. His blood boiled, filling him with a desire for justice, or vengeance.

  When he read through all the files, Gavreau yanked the device from his computer, scooped up the notebook, and walked out of his house.

  * * *

  Somewhere in Europe

  Curtis Clarke snapped awake, pulled from his slumber by the rattling buzz of his cell phone. He checked the clock as he reached for his phone. He’d only been asleep for a couple of hours and fought to clear his head.

  “Hello?” He said, stifling a yawn and trying to sound alert.

  “Curtis, it’s Parker Lewis,” the voice on the other end said.

  Curtis sat up, turning to put his feet on the rough carpet. “Parker, what’s going on?”

  He hadn’t been in contact with Parker Lewis for months. Hearing from him now caught him off guard. They hadn’t had any contact since Congress dismantled the Hostile Response Division.

  “It’s John. I think he needs some help,” Parker said.

  “Stone? Is he okay?”

  Another name from the HRD. This one much more notorious than Parker. Before the end of the HRD, John Stone had been accused of acts of domestic terrorism and treason. The task to bring him into custody fell squarely on Curtis’ shoulders. He ultimately let John go, when push came to shove, and Stone eventually proved the charges against him had been fabricated.

  Though some tension still remained between the two, Curtis and John parted on amicable terms. Now, out of the blue, Curtis’ past came storming back into his life.

  CHAPTER

  13

  Paris, France

  Christopher Brassard sat back on the couch, taking another sip of his beer while watching TV and winding down. The doorbell barged in on his relaxation as he sat up, turning the volume down. He walked to the door and saw Gavreau though the small window as he got closer.

  “Good evening, Lionel. What brings you here at this time of night?” Chris asked.

  “Hi Chris, sorry to come by so late,” Lionel said.

  “Nonsense, my friend. Come on in.”

  The smile on Gavreau’s face twitched and faltered before returning.

  “So, what can I do for you?” Chris asked.

  Gavreau paused for a long moment, then looked Brassard in the eye.

  “You can tell me. Tell me how long you’ve been selling secrets to the enemy. How long you’ve put money over the lives of your own family.”

  “Wh-what are you talking about?” Brassard asked with a confused and lopsided grin.

  Gavreau reached out, grasping the front of Chris’ t-shirt. His fist shot out like a piston, across the man’s jaw. Gavreau released his grip, letting Brassard crumple to the ground.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Brassard yelled from the floor, wiping a hand across his bloodied mouth.

  “A rat! You’re a rat, selling out your brothers and sisters to the Four Serpents!”

  Brassard backed away, scrambling to his feet. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

  Gavreau produced the key drive, pointing it accusingly at Brassard’s chest.

  “I have the records. Money transfers going back years! How could you do this?”

  Brassard stammered, unable to put a coherent argument together. He held his hands out as if he were warding away the evidence on the flash drive. His mouth opened and closed, looking for the right response.

  “I-I can explain, man. It’s not what you think―” Brassard started.

  “You can explain it to the rest of the team at HQ. Let’s go,” Gavreau interrupted.

  He snatched Brassard by the back of his neck and roughly shoved him to the front door. His second-in-command did not try to resist.

  “Okay. Just give me a second to grab my keys,” Brassard said.

  “Don’t bother. I’m driving,” Gavreau said.

  Brassard nodded but continued walking toward the table in the hallway, where his keys were sitting. Gavreau grabbed him by the shoulder to spin him around.

  “I said I’m―”

  Brassard used the momentum to lash out with his elbow, catching Gavreau across the temple. The RAID commander staggered back, dazed. He saw Brassard dash for the hallway table, and reach under it. A secret compartment dropped away from the bottom, revealing a small black pistol inside.

  Gavreau lunged forward, trying to reach Brassard before he grabbed the gun. He was a heartbeat too slow. Brassard wheeled around to face him. Gavreau hoped the man would extend his shooting arm in a panic to fire, allowing him to control the arm with the pistol and close the distance.

  He had no such luck, however. Like the rest of Gavreau’s team, Brassard was highly trained and not easily shaken. He spun using his free hand to post the commander back while keeping his pistol hand tight inside to fire from his waist.

  Gavreau pivoted as the pistol cracked, the round grazing a rib. Pain flashed through Gavreau’s mind, and he fought to stay focused. He pinned Brassard’s free arm against his body and shoved him into the table. Gavreau whipped a heavy hook into the man’s kidney.

  His fist dug in deep, rewarding him with a grunt and hiss through Brassard’s clenched teeth. He followed with a high hook catching Brassard just below the ear, on his jaw.

  Brassard struggled to pull away, and Gavreau grabbed the pistol with a firm grip, keeping the barrel pointed away. They wrestled for a moment, and the handgun fired again. Pain and heat caused Gavreau to release his grip.

  The momentary lapse allowed Brassard to spin and backpedal to create distance between the two. He grasped his pistol in a two-handed grip and pressed the trigger, the sights aimed in the center of Gavreau’s chest.

  Click

  Brassard’s eyes widened at the malfunction, but his reflexes took over, allowing him to quickly go through the motions to clear the weapon.

  The RAID commander was ready for that misfire, however. He was holding the slide of the pistol when it fired the second time, so he knew the weapon wouldn’t have ejected the brass and chambered the next round. He moved forward when Brassard tried to shoot, making no attempt to evade.

  Gavreau closed the distance and grasped the weapon with both of his hands. With an animalistic growl, he yanked the pistol toward him and cracked Brassard in the face wit
h a headbutt. With a quick twist, Gavreau wrenched the gun free. Brassard buried a front kick, deep into Gavreau’s stomach, sending him reeling back.

  He charged the RAID commander, reaching for the pistol. Lionel allowed him to get close, feinting a retreat. At the last moment, he pivoted and executed a perfect shoulder throw. Brassard sailed over his body, crashing through the coffee table, onto the hardwood floor.

  The wind exploded from Brassard’s lungs violently, sending out a spray of spittle and blood. Gavreau followed up with a straight left across the man’s jaw, leaving him in a heap on the floor. Lionel cleared and emptied the pistol and stuck it into his waistband. Then he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and secured them tightly to Brassard’s wrists.

  “Get up!” He yanked the man up by the wrists.

  Brassard let out a groan and wheeze, as he stumbled out the front door, to Gavreau’s waiting car.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Bièvres, Essonne - RAID Headquarters

  “What’s all this about?” Lussier asked.

  William Silvestre, Giles Deschanel, and Alban Lussier stood in the lobby of the RAID headquarters. Gavreau called them, issuing orders to come in right away for an emergency meeting.

  “Beats me. I was asleep when the commander called,” Silvestre said.

  “Should we gear up?” Deschanel asked. “We’re probably about to hit the Four Serpents.”

  They saw a pair of headlights aiming right for the front entrance. All three men tensed for a moment. The parking lot was on the side of the building, so a car pulling up to the front was highly unusual.

  The car stopped, and the headlights turned off. The three members headed outside when they heard the car door opening. When they got outside, they saw Gavreau, pulling a battered and bleeding Christopher Brassard from the other side.

  The second-in-command was in handcuffs and looking down.