“We’re safe here. The town house isn’t connected to Sanderson in any way. Airbnb.”
“Air what?”
“Airbnb. It’s an online service where people turn their homes into hotels,” said Graves.
“Never heard of it,” said Daniel.
“You need to get out more,” said Munoz.
“If this is what getting out gets me, I’m happy hiding out for the rest of my years.”
“I’m just messing with you,” said Munoz. “Our only concern here is a nosy neighbor.”
“The windowless van in the driveway isn’t exactly inconspicuous,” said Daniel.
“That’s why we didn’t bring it to the industrial park,” said Graves. “We had it near the hospital, but not close enough to draw any connection.”
“We’ll be out of here soon anyway,” said Munoz.
“Back to my original question,” said Daniel. “What’s bugging Sanderson?”
“The fact that Hadzic managed to orchestrate and conceal his escape, continued to elude authorities for the better part of a year, only to emerge in the United States as the ringleader of an elaborate kidnapping attempt.”
Daniel nodded. “It does boggle the mind.”
“He doesn’t think money alone would be enough to pull it off,” said Munoz.
“State sponsored?”
“That’s what he’s thinking.”
“Russia,” said Melendez.
“Sanderson’s program has certainly dealt them a few serious blows over the past few years, and your remarkable resemblance to Marko Resja, made public by the war crimes tribunal, wouldn’t be a stretch to connect.”
“Why go through the trouble of using Hadzic?”
“Deniability. Impact.” Munoz shrugged. “Let’s be honest, the Russians undoubtedly have some unsavory characters available for brutal and sadistic work, but Hadzic would have taken it to the next level. Sanderson is convinced it was the Russians, going for the heart and soul of the Black Flag organization.”
“Sounds a little melodramatic.”
“If Hadzic’s plan had succeeded, think of the impact,” said Munoz. “Seriously, give it some thought relative to the program.”
Daniel hadn’t thought about it like that. He’d justifiably been focused on Jessica and himself. If Hadzic had pulled off his twisted plan and created a video even a fraction as graphic as the one Jessica had made of Srecko’s nephew’s demise…just the thought of it made him sick. The impact would have sent shockwaves through Sanderson’s ranks. An unmistakable message. Fuck with Mother Russia again, and you’re next. The ultimate anti-recruitment video.
“So now what?” said Daniel. “I’m one flight away from disappearing for good.”
“On La Ombra?” said Munoz.
Daniel tried his best not to react.
“Don’t worry. Sanderson is pretty sure your secret remains intact. If the Russians knew where to find you, they could have sent Hadzic straight to Anguilla. It would have been a lot easier to grab you on a deserted stretch of Route One coming back from one of your favorite places on the northwest coast. Probably could have set up shop at your house on Lockrum Bay.”
“Fucking Sanderson,” Daniel growled.
Munoz started to open his mouth, but stopped, pausing for a few seconds before proceeding. “I don’t need to say what I was about to say.”
“I know,” said Daniel. “Thank you. All of you. If it wasn’t for Sanderson’s close interest in my well-being and your high give-a-shit level, things would have turned out very differently for us.”
“I might have substituted give-a-shit for dedicated professionalism,” said Munoz, cracking a grin.
“Fuck you, Jeff. You get what you get.”
“Don’t get upset. Works for me,” said Munoz. “Grab a cup of my world-famous coffee.”
“I didn’t realize you had a piece of the world market,” said Melendez.
“I’ve shipped it to Canada.”
Daniel laughed along with them, but his mind was on Jessica and the long journey ahead of them. The more he pondered Sanderson’s suspicions about the Russians’ involvement in this fiasco, the more he wanted to get on with his plan to take La Ombra through the Panama Canal and into the wide-open Pacific. The possibilities felt endless, their anonymity nearly guaranteed. A second, darker path appeared to Daniel, steering him in the direction of the puppet masters responsible for sending Hadzic to rape and murder his wife. Nothing good would come from that path, but he saw it anyway, and it held a frightening appeal.
Chapter 31
Salta Province
Argentina
Sanderson stood alone in the worn hillside lodge, stoking a dying fire. He’d probably be up most of the night, waiting for the final word from Munoz. The general’s suspicion had been right about Jessica’s mother. More like an instinct. Mostly self-preservation. He simply couldn’t afford the numerous risks presented by the capture of either Petrovich, or the emotional burden of consigning them to the kind of fate their long list of enemies would impose.
Daniel and Jessica stood on the precipice of escaping the past, a rare triumph in this business. Few walked away, and not because they were trapped. Most stayed because it was in their blood, part of their programming long before they ever turned up at a military recruiter’s office, Langley, or wherever their formal training started. They were different. Some far more than others, and the Petroviches were no exception.
Jessica hadn’t been recruited because she spoke Serbian and studied international relations at a top university. A seasoned recruiter had seen something more. An unquantifiable quality that set her apart from thousands of college students graduating the same year. She was indisputably hardwired for this kind of work and had embraced it openly.
Her husband was a slightly different story. Same hardwired affinity, with an annoying, but ultimately useful twist. Daniel’s pathological aversion to authority nearly disqualified him from the original Black Flag program. The program evaluation survey he unwittingly completed while on active duty in the Navy suggested he was a troublemaker. The fitness reports filed by the commanding officer of his ship confirmed it.
Petrovich hadn’t assimilated into the regular Navy for one simple reason: he couldn’t stand authority, an aspect of his personality somehow missed while he was in the Naval Reserve Officers Training Corp (NROTC) at Northwestern University. The fact that he had come from a Serbian home and spoke fluent Serbian made his file hard to throw away without a one-on-one interview.
Sanderson was sold on Petrovich within the first few minutes of the meeting. It had nothing to do with his answers. He just had a quality about him that the general trusted would be right for the program. His instinct had been richly rewarded. Without question, Daniel had turned out to be the pinnacle of the program’s success, even though he could be an insufferable pain in the ass most of the time.
His satellite phone on the table behind him chirped and buzzed. He hoped to hear that Jessica was awake and the Petroviches could be moved to the airport shortly. He was anxious to get the rest of the team out of the country. If the Russians were ultimately behind Hadzic’s revenge plot, there was no telling what else his Commie friends might have set in motion. It was better to corral the troops and wait. Maybe dig for some answers through Karl Berg, though he strongly suspected Karl had been effectively cut out of the loop at the CIA.
Sanderson didn’t recognize the number displayed on the phone. Interesting.
“Hello. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” he said, taking the call.
“Stand by to authenticate your identity. Kilo-bravo-echo-victor identifier,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Very interesting.
“Wait one,” said Sanderson, pulling an encrypted mobile phone from one of his cargo pockets. He quickly found what he needed under the contact “Karl Berg Emergency Verification.”
“I authenticate sierra-bravo-two-niner-eight-seven-delta-romeo-four.”
&
nbsp; “Copy your last,” said the voice. “I authenticate delta-fife-tree-echo-one.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you, Mr. Jackson, though I suspect this will not be under pleasant circumstances.”
“You got that straight, and you can call me Darryl,” Jackson said. “Karl Berg was abducted about forty minutes ago.”
“Shit,” was all Sanderson could manage.
Berg and the Petroviches on the same night? He’d been right. Something big was going down.
“Shit is right. I’m on foot right now, making sure none of these fools are following me,” said Jackson. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“Something similar almost happened to an operative closely linked to a few of Karl Berg’s past operations.”
“I don’t want to know any of the details,” said Jackson. “The less I know, the better.”
“You supplied the hardware for a number of those operations.”
“Son of a bitch,” muttered Jackson.
“What exactly happened, Darryl?”
“I had dinner with Karl at a restaurant in Georgetown. He went back to the restaurant to get a bottle of wine I forgot to take with me, and by the time I drove down the street to pick him up, he was gone. He never made it into the restaurant. The only clue I have is a big-ass black Suburban sitting at the stop sign right around the same time. Same vehicle nearly ran me over speeding out of the area.”
“You’re absolutely sure he didn’t pull a disappearing act?” said Sanderson. “He was working on something you might say was slightly on, but mostly off the books.”
“No way he would pull something like that on me. He knows you’d be the first person I called if he didn’t check in.”
“Check in?”
“Yeah. He emails, texts, and leaves me a daily coded message every fucking day. I thought he was nuts. You didn’t know about the check-ins?”
“No. I just have some emergency verification codes,” said Sanderson. “How long has he been doing this?”
“Ever since those lunatics took over Washington,” said Jackson. “You really don’t know more than those codes?”
“That’s it. I’m not even sure how I can help in this situation,” said Sanderson. “I hate to say it, but he’s gone, Darryl.”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Karl took out a little insurance policy when True America swept into town,” said Jackson.
“I don’t think True America has anything to do with his abduction.”
“Karl certainly seemed convinced they might pull something like this. What’s your theory?”
“The other kidnapping attempt I mentioned was stopped dead in its tracks, and we most definitively linked it to a Serbian crime syndicate, but I think the whole thing was orchestrated and funded by the Russians. This operative worked closely with Berg to give Moscow a serious black eye. This is not a coincidence.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel more paranoid or less than I already am,” said Jackson.
“He was smart to put together an insurance policy, but it won’t do him any good. Threatening to leak classified information about the full scope of True America’s involvement in that mess is like pointing your gun at the wrong target.”
“Who said anything about information?” said Jackson. “Berg took out a different kind of policy, and he explained exactly how you would cash it in.”
“Something tells me this is going to sound crazy.”
“You have no fucking idea,” said Jackson.
Chapter 32
Downers Grove, Illinois
Daniel had barely drifted to sleep, holding Jessica, when he heard footsteps coming down the carpeted hallway. He rolled onto his back and snatched the pistol from the nightstand, returning to his original position with the pistol hidden behind his leg.
“Daniel,” someone whispered from the hallway, “you awake? We need you in here right away. Karl Berg has been kidnapped.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He was half-tempted to open the bedroom window and disappear with Jessica. Daniel wasn’t sure how far he’d get in the suburbs carrying an unconscious woman over his shoulder with a pistol tucked into his pants, but it had to beat sticking around here. He muttered a few curses and got out of bed, taking a few moments to steel himself for a tough decision.
Graves and Gupta had already started packing up their electronics mess when he reached the dining room. Munoz and Melendez sat across from each other at the kitchen table, a small teleconference device between them.
“He’s here,” said Munoz.
“About time,” Sanderson’s voice came over the phone’s speaker. “We thought you had fallen back asleep.”
“I’m not sticking around, if that’s what you’re going to suggest.”
“You’re not gonna get very far alone with an unconscious woman,” said Sanderson.
“You must be reading my mind,” said Daniel. “I’ll have my good friends drop me off at the jet park terminal. They have sleeper couches in private rooms for the privileged class.”
“The team doesn’t have time for that kind of detour. They need to be in the Washington, D.C., area as quickly as that van can deliver them, or Karl Berg dies. Along with any hope of getting to the bottom of these kidnappings.”
“You know where Berg is being held?” Daniel asked.
“Not yet.”
“We both know how this works. Unless you know something I don’t, Karl Berg is gone.”
“It’s my job to know more than you, Daniel,” said Sanderson. “More than you think I know. We have a window of opportunity to find Berg.”
“And that window will be closed by the time we drive from here to D.C.”
“Actually, if the team left within the next fifteen minutes and drove straight through the night, you could arrive two hours before the window opens. With traffic, it will be a lot tighter.”
“Or we might not make it. We’re obviously not talking about an assault window,” said Daniel.
“Yes and no. You might not believe what I’m about to tell you, but I’ve been assured that it’s true. Karl Berg had a transmitter implanted in his leg a few months ago.”
“He had a GPS tracker implanted in his leg?” said Daniel. “That’s like the size of a cell phone.”
“They have smaller versions, but that’s not what he used,” said Sanderson. “The device implanted in his leg is cutting-edge industrial espionage technology. It transmits a virus that specifically targets Wi-Fi receptors, co-opting the Wi-Fi enabled phone or computer. The applications for this kind of device are limitless, but Berg chose one function. Location flagging. The virus will continuously update and upload the infected devices’ locations to a website accessible by our team.”
“What if they’re underground or in a remote location?” said Munoz.
“I’m told it doesn’t matter. It’ll send undetectable calls. Geo-locate by known IP addresses. Daisy-chain with other wireless devices. Like everything, I’m sure this thing has its limitations, but if he’s anywhere within a twenty-mile radius of D.C., odds are good that we’re going to locate him. Then it’s a matter of doing what we do best.”
“Just us?” said Munoz.
“No. I’m gathering a small flock for this one. You’ll have Daly, Mazurov, Foley, and Sayar, plus Darryl Jackson. He’s ex-military, but not an operator. Jackson is the one that brought this to my attention, and he’s good friends with Berg. You treat him like one of the family.”
Timothy Graves joined the conversation. “General, it’s Graves. Tell me a little more about this window. Why can’t I log into the website now and find him? Your operatives are excellent, but the F.B.I’s Hostage Rescue Team isn’t shabby, and they could probably kick in some doors in a few hours instead of half a day.”
“I asked the same question, but Berg has thought this through,” said Sanderson. “He set a fourteen-hour delay for a couple of reasons. Fir
st, he figured they would move him around a few times if they intended to interrogate him, so he wanted the signal to activate at his final location.”
“Fourteen hours?” said Melendez. “Break out the SCUBA gear. He’ll be at the bottom of Chesapeake by then.”
“Possible. The other reason is related to battery life.”
“That shouldn’t be an issue if a device is hijacked,” said Graves. “Unless…”
“You’ve probably figured it out. If this is a state-sponsored operation, the attackers will likely possess devices with automated virus scan capability and shifting encryption protocols. There’s a distinct possibility the devices will repeatedly purge the infection, requiring the transmitter to regularly reengage the device. We’re talking a small transmitter, with limited battery power. Berg wanted a rescue team in place and ready to go when it started transmitting.”
“Then we’re burning precious time,” said Munoz. “We can hash this out on the road.”
“I’ll put you in touch with Jackson once you’re mobile,” said Sanderson.
“And I’ll send you a postcard from the Pacific,” said Daniel.
An uncomfortable pause ensued, broken by Sanderson.
“You’re gonna turn your back on Karl Berg?”
“My number one priority is taking care of Jessica,” he said, pausing for what he knew would be a controversial statement. “And I don’t owe Karl anything.”
“I wonder what Jessica might say?”
“Well, considering the last thing she saw was her mother murdered right in front of her, I’m willing to bet she’d like to get on a plane and get the fuck out of here. Karl Berg will be the least of her priorities.”
“Daniel, you can’t run from this.”
“That sounds like a line from a shitty movie,” said Daniel.
“You know it’s true. One attack I can write off, though Srecko Hadzic’s stunt is a damn hard sell as a self-orchestrated incident. Now Berg is snatched off the street in front of a popular Georgetown restaurant? Trust me. This is just the beginning unless we drive a stake through this thing’s heart right now.”
OMEGA: A Black Flagged Thriller (The Black Flagged Series Book 5) Page 17