Blacksnow Zero

by Lee Gimenez

  With his other hand he pulled a combat knife from behind the small of his back and slashed her across the throat.

  Blood spurted from her jugular and her eyes bulged wide. Still holding her face tightly, he watched as she struggled to pull away. But he was much too strong and she continued to bleed out. A moment later her bloody body slumped to the floor. Checking her pulse, he knew she was gone. By this time his shirt and gloves were smeared with blood.

  Garcia got up and moved over to the blonde. Crouching down, he stabbed her in the abdomen several times, blood spurting on the carpet. The body spasmed and went still. He felt the side of her throat, knew she was dead.

  Standing up, he turned to Thomas. “Strip the admiral, then spread the casino chips around the room.”

  While the sergeant took the pajamas off the man, Garcia pulled a snub-nosed .38 Special from his pocket. He screwed on a suppressor and walked over to the bed.

  He stared down at the obese man, the admiral’s pallid skin glistening from the cheap ceiling lamp. Garcia shook his head, disgusted at what he saw. The admiral had graduated from Annapolis, head of his class. He had been fit and trim back then. Shame he had let himself go. And shame he didn’t embrace BlackSnow. It was going to cost him.

  Garcia grabbed the man’s inert right hand and closed it around the revolver’s grip. Then placed the gun against the man’s temple. He squeezed the trigger, the gun making a muted thumping sound. Stanton’s head jerked the opposite way. A hole appeared in the temple and it began to ooze blood.

  The captain unscrewed the suppressor, placed the gun back in Stanton’s hand. He checked for a pulse and said, “It’s done.”

  Grabbing the bloody knife, he placed it in the admiral’s other hand, squeezed the fingers around the handle.

  He stood back, looked at the scene, realized he needed to do a couple of other things. Picking up the half-used package of coke, he went around the room, spreading the contents on the floor and on the bed. Lastly, he took some of the white powder and pushed it up the admiral’s nose and into his mouth. Then he spilled some of the coke on Stanton’s naked chest and genitals. Satisfied, he threw the almost empty package on the floor.

  Glancing at Thomas, he asked, “What am I forgetting?”

  The sergeant thought a moment. “The wallet and his other stuff.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” He pulled Stanton’s wallet, keys and cell phone from his pockets. Taking the cash out of the wallet, he threw the money on the bed and on the floor. Then he placed the wallet, the keys and the phone inside the nightstand.

  Garcia stood back, surveyed the room carefully and made sure everything had been staged correctly. “We’re done.”

  Thomas smiled. “It should play out perfectly.”

  The captain nodded. “The general rented this house through a cut-out. For a month, so it may be weeks before the bodies are found. And when the LVPD find them, they’ll realize it was something they’ve seen before. A drug-fueled sex party gone bad. Maybe the fat man was robbed by the whores or maybe he couldn’t get it up, cause of the coke. Either way, he goes into a rage, stabs them, shoots himself, his brain fried from the drugs.”

  “In Vegas, gambling, hookers and drugs go hand-in-hand,” Thomas said.

  “That’s a fact. In any case, the admiral’s discredited and there’ll be no suspicion that he was murdered. The Pentagon will be embarrassed, with one of their top brass going on a murder-and-suicide spree. They’ll want to get this story off the front pages as soon as possible. And we get rid of a big roadblock for BlackSnow.”

  “Good plan, Captain. Bringing Stanton out here was brilliant.”

  “Yeah. I thought it was pretty slick.”

  Garcia took off his bloody gloves and shirt and stuffed them in a plastic sack that he had in the canvass bag. Taking out a fresh shirt and disposable gloves from the bag, he put them on. Then he said, “Go through the rest of the house, make sure we didn’t leave anything behind. I’ll check this room again, do the same thing.”

  Thomas nodded, turned and left.

  Garcia scanned the scene one last time. He noticed Sugar’s nude body was sprawled out on the floor, her legs wide apart. Thinking she ought to have some dignity in death, he pushed her legs together.

  Staring at her open, lifeless eyes, he reached over and closed them with his finger.

  Then he crossed himself, said a silent prayer asking for forgiveness, and left the room.

  22 Days to Zero Hour

  The Vice President’s office

  West Wing of the White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Vice President Taylor was at his desk sipping Dewar’s when his assistant’s voice came over the intercom. “General Corvan is here, sir,” she said primly. “Needs to see you.”

  He gulped the rest of his drink and put the glass in a drawer. “Show him in, Alice.”

  Corvan came in, the two shook hands, and then sat down.

  “Good news, General?”

  “Yes, Mr. Vice President. Just got off the phone with Garcia. Our Stanton problem has been solved.”

  Taylor beamed. “Excellent. I’m glad that’s behind us. Any collateral damage?”

  “No, sir. Well, if you don’t count the whores.”

  Taylor nodded. “I don’t.”

  “The police will eventually find the bodies, but the captain’s plan using Las Vegas should be very good cover.”

  The vice president leaned back in his chair and loosened his tie, then idly rubbed his stomach. “I’m glad you found Garcia. He’s a keeper.”

  “I agree, sir. After this whole thing is over, I’ll be giving him a special bonus.”

  “Good.” He steepled his hands on the desk. “Now that you have my written authorization, are all the other contingencies for BlackSnow moving forward?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Taylor stared into the other man’s eyes, looking for any signs of uncertainty. “You run into any problems, General?”

  Corvan paused, was quiet a moment. “I have one minor concern, but I’m keeping it under control.”

  Taylor’s face flushed. “What the hell is it?”

  “The local police have been investigating the senator’s death. As expected. But there was also an FBI agent assigned to the case, a woman named Blake. Erica Blake.”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “You wouldn’t have, sir. She’s not high up. I checked her background. Has a good record at the Bureau, but she’s a hot-head. Doesn’t get along with her superiors, has been transferred several times because of it.”

  “I see. So what’s the problem?”

  “She’s been sniffing around. Picked up a possible military connection on the Carpenter case.”

  Taylor leaned forward in his chair. “You taking care of it? I don’t want any screw-ups.”

  “Yes, sir. I have her under surveillance.”

  “What else, damn it?”

  “I talked to the deputy director of the Bureau – a friend of mine. I’ve got it under control.”

  Taylor mulled that over a minute. “Okay. Stay on top of it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “The next phase of BlackSnow is coming up soon. Very soon. Are we ready?”

  The general nodded. “Garcia’s team has been rehearsing it for months. Everything’s in place.”

  “Very good,” he replied, as he rubbed his hands together. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

  “As have I, Mr. Vice President.”

  Taylor leaned back in the chair again, visualizing what was to come. A smile crossed his face.

  The general cleared his throat. “Anything else, sir?”

  The question brought Taylor back to the present. “No.”

  Corvan stood up, got ready to salute, but Taylor waved a hand in the air. “You can dispense with that from now on, at least in private. We’re getting down to the wire here and we’re becoming more like partners now.”

  The general smiled.
“Thank you, sir.”

  ***

  The FBI Building

  Washington, D.C.

  Erica Blake went into Temerius’ office and closed the door behind her. “I found the smoking gun,” she said with a grin.

  Her supervisor leaned back in his chair, a stony look on his face. “And what would that be?”

  She sat on the forward edge of the visitor’s chair. “Remember me telling you about the military connection?”

  “This is on the Carpenter case?”

  She gave him an incredulous look. “Of course. That’s the most important thing I’m working on.”

  “Go on.”

  “Anyway,” she said, “my ex’s been digging into that side of it.”

  “The CIA guy, if I remember correctly.”

  She stopped and was about to mouth off at him for repeating the obvious. But she held her tongue for once, knowing she needed this guy on her side. “Yeah. That’s right.” She grinned again. “He found out that the EMP device that was used is top-secret, black-ops stuff. Brand-new, available only to specialized military units.”

  “I see,” Temerius said as he brushed his mustache with one hand. The man went quiet, said nothing else.

  “That’s it? That’s your reaction?” she asked, her voice rising. “This is a big break in the case. It means we’re not dealing with a simple robbery. Not by a long shot.”

  Temerius folded his arms across his chest. “I’m glad you came to see me, Erica. I was just about to call you.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “About?”

  The man’s face scrunched up, as if he knew her reaction would be negative. “I’m taking you off the Carpenter case.”

  Erica’s jaw dropped. “You what?”

  “Been giving it a lot of thought. I’m not sure you’re the right agent for this.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she said, standing up. “I just got the biggest lead yet and you’re taking me off? What are you, insane?”

  “Sit down, Erica.”

  “I will not sit down.” She leaned forward, planted her hands on his desk. Her voice dropping to a whisper, she added, “What’s really going on here?”

  The man uncrossed his arms, picked up a pen and began tapping it on the desk. “I’m re-assigning the case to Malone – give him the file.”

  “Malone’s an asshole and you know it. He couldn’t find a book in the library.”

  Temerius shook his head. “He’s been in the Bureau a lot longer than you have.”

  “He also kisses your ass and doesn’t make waves….”

  The man held up his palms. “You may not agree with my decision, but it’s done.” He picked up a file from his desk and handed it to her. “I’ve got something else for you.”

  She ignored the file, leaned closer so her face was only inches from his. “I’m not taking this shit. I’m staying on the Carpenter case. I’ll go over your head if I have to.”

  A thin smile crossed his face. “I’ve already talked with the deputy director. It’s a done deal.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she sat on the chair. “You bastard.”

  “That may be, Erica. But I’m still your boss.”

  She wanted to punch him and wipe the smug look off his face. But instead she spoke in a low voice. “Why? Tell me what’s really going on, Justin.”

  The man went quiet.

  Moments later she shook her head slowly and picked up the file on his desk.

  Without saying another word, she left the office.

  ***

  Steve McCord’s apartment

  Washington, D.C.

  Steve McCord unlocked the door and let himself in the well-appointed apartment. Switching on the lights and turning off the alarm, he carried his suitcase inside and slid it into a corner of the foyer. He was dead tired from the flight from Rome and unpacking would have to wait.

  Taking off his suit jacket and shoulder holster, Steve placed them on a chair and headed to the bedroom. But as soon as he sprawled on the large bed, the door-bell buzzed.

  “Damn,” he muttered, getting up and going to the door. He opened it, was surprised to see who was there. She rarely came to his place.

  “Just got home,” he said, stifling a yawn. “Come on in.”

  Erica Blake stormed in and began to pace the spacious living room.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, alarmed by her actions and appearance. Her long black hair was disheveled and her blouse wasn’t tucked into her pants suit. Unusual. Erica was one of the most well put together women he knew.

  She stopped pacing and stared at him, her pale eyes blazing. “That bastard!”

  He chuckled. “Which one?”

  She continued pacing. “Temerius, that’s who.”

  “Sit down, will you?”

  “I can’t. Been driving around the city for hours, trying to calm down.”

  “Hasn’t worked,” he said.

  She halted and slumped on one of the expensive leather sofas.

  “Want a drink?” he asked.

  “What do you have? Budweiser?”

  He shook his head. “Vodka, wine, and Heineken.”

  “Fine. I’ll take the beer.”

  He went to the refrigerator and rummaged through the packed shelves. He grabbed a couple of bottles. Uncapping them, he handed her one and sat across from her on the opposite couch.

  “So what’s eating you?” he said after taking a sip.

  She chugged the bottle, draining it in seconds. Then wiped her mouth with one hand. “Got more?”

  He smiled, handed her his beer. “Tell me.”

  She took a deep swallow and set the bottle on the glass coffee table. “Temerius pulled me off the Carpenter case.”

  “Did I hear you right?”

  “Hell, yeah,” she said, her voice bitter.

  Steve was shocked. “Did you give him the info I found out?”

  She nodded. “Didn’t matter to him. His mind was already made up.”

  “But that was a huge break in the case.”

  “Tell me about it.” Picking up the beer, Erica drained it. Then she got up, went to the fridge and grabbed another. She stood by the open door as she guzzled the bottle. Finished with that one, she dropped it in the waste-basket, and rummaged through the fridge. “Damn,” she said, “you don’t have any more.”

  “Didn’t know you were coming over. You rarely do. Otherwise I would have bought a case of Budweiser for you.”

  She turned from the fridge and glared at him. Then she glanced around the spacious, expensively furnished apartment. “I can’t believe you CIA guys make so much more than us Bureau types. Every time I come here it pisses me off.”

  Steve smiled. “We could have stayed married.”

  She slammed the refrigerator door closed. “Yeah, there is that. But let’s not rehash the past, okay?”

  He nodded, as a familiar and sad feeling settled over him. He still loved her and wanted her back. But she was too independent for her own good. Pushing those thoughts aside, he stood up. “I’ll get you a vodka.”

  She shrugged, sat back down on the sofa.

  “Tell me more,” he said as he mixed their drinks in the kitchen.

  “It’s weird, Steve. Justin just took me off the case, wouldn’t say why.”

  “Who replaces you?”

  “Malone.”

  He handed her the glass and sat across from her. He took a sip from his drink, pacing himself – he was so jet-lagged from the trip he knew if he drank too much he’d probably pass out. “I remember you telling me about him. He’s –”

  She held up a hand, made a face. “Don’t get me started on him.”

  Steve laughed. “Okay, I won’t.” He paused, gave her a long look. “Why don’t you run this up the ladder? Maybe the deputy director can help.”

  “Temerius beat me to it.”

  “Too bad, Erica. Look, I’m sorry this happened. You would’ve broken this case wide open.”

  “
Tell me about it.” She gulped her drink, emptied the contents. Finished, she held out the glass. “More.”

  “You sure? You’ve had a lot already.”

  Her eyes blazed. “I haven’t had nearly enough.”

  He took the empty glass, mixed her another, came back and handed it to her. “So what’s next?” he said as he sat back down.

  “Temerius gave me some crappy case to replace it. A no-brainer I can do in my sleep.” She took another sip. “But I’m not giving up on the senator’s death.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been working with the local cop on the case – I’ll keep in touch with him, work on this on the side. Something strange is happening and I’m going to find out.”

  “Is that wise? What if Temerius finds out what you’re doing?”

  She drained the glass, said, “I don’t give a shit. I’ll get even with him one day.”

  “You probably will.”

  “Count on it.”

  Erica thumped her empty glass on the table. “No more…shop talk,” she declared, her words beginning to slur. A glint came into her pretty eyes. He knew what that meant.

  He held up his palms. “I just got off a plane – I’m dead tired.”

  She stood up. “Sorry, buddy. No…excuses tonight…I need to get laid in the worst way.”

  He stood up and smiled. “You know I still love you.”

  “Yeah…I love you too…now, quit wasting time.…”

  He held out his hand and she took it. He led her into the bedroom, but her walk was unsteady, and she leaned against him to keep from falling over.

  When they reached the bed, she steadied herself on the headboard and took off her jacket. Then she crawled on the bed, turned and lay on her back.

  He was about to take off his shirt when he heard a slight snore.

  Looking back, he saw she was fast asleep.

  Sitting next to her on the bed, he softly caressed the faint scar on her cheek. God, I love you, he mused.

  Getting up, he crossed the room and turned off the lights. Closing the door behind him, he headed for the spare bedroom.

  ***

  Steve woke with a start. He was lying in bed on his back, the bedroom dim, when he felt a soft hand caress his bare chest.

  Startled, he almost went for his gun. Then he realized it was Erica, her nude body snuggling up to him.