Nemesis: A Jordan Quest FBI Thriller

by Gary Winston Brown

  “Who are these guys?” Hallier asked.

  “They’re with me,” Spencer replied.

  “You brought backup?”

  “Damn straight I did.”

  “This is a joint federal and military matter, Mr. Coltraine,” Hallier warned. “All you’ve done by showing up here like this is make an already volatile situation even more dangerous.” To Vecchio, Hallier yelled, “Whoever the hell you are, tell your men to stand down.”

  Uncle T stepped forward, whispered in Spencer’s ear, then spoke to his men. “Everybody, ears in.” He pointed. “Sam, Vince. Positions.”

  Hallier watched as the two men crossed the street, then separated. One man dropped to his stomach, unfolded the bipod attached to his weapon, adjusted the rifle sight, took aim at the two women, then waited. The second took to higher ground, did the same.

  Uncle T adjusted his earbud, listened. “Status,” he said.

  “In position,” Sam said.

  “Targets are green,” Vince replied.

  “Copy,” Tony replied. To Hallier, he said, “Which one’s the threat?”

  Hallier fumed. “What part of stand down did you not understand?”

  “My guess is it’s the Asian woman. Give me the word. My men will take her out.”

  Hallier raised his weapon, pointed it at Tony. “Now listen to me, you sonofabitch. I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you damn well better order your men to lower their weapons right now or I swear to God, I’ll shoot them myself.”

  Vecchio stared the colonel in the eye, then spoke. “Hold.”

  Hallier watched as the men pointed their rifle barrels at the ground. He turned to Tony. “When all of this is over, I’m coming back for you. Then I’m going to lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Vecchio cocked his head, broke a smile. “You wouldn’t be the first to try.”

  Hallier turned to Spencer. “You’ve been a major pain in my ass this whole goddamn day. Stay here with your friends. Don’t move a muscle unless I tell you to. Got it?”

  Spencer held the colonel’s gaze. He didn’t reply.

  Hallier crossed the street, rejoined Chris.

  “How the hell did Coltraine find us?” Chris asked.

  “It’s not us he found. It’s his wife,” Hallier replied. “He showed me his phone. Tracking ID confirms she’s here. How’s Jordan?”

  “She took a bad shot to the head. But if I know Jordan, all that did was piss her off.”

  “This doesn’t look good.”

  “She’s been in worse situations than this,” Chris replied. “She can handle it.”

  “She better. Or her and the kid are both dead.”

  Jordan looked up, spoke to Qin. “Let the boy go.”

  “Not a chance,” Qin replied.

  “Why not?”

  “Why do you think? He’s leverage.”

  “He’s not leverage. You’re not thinking straight. He’s an innocent bystander with no stake in the game whatsoever. He’s of no value to you. Look at him. He’s just a street kid who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. If it’s leverage you want, you’ve already got it. Take me. You don’t get better leverage than an FBI agent. So do us both a favor and let him go.”

  “You’re dumber than you look. I already have you. The kid’s a bonus.”

  Jordan pushed herself to her feet.

  “What are you doing?” Qin said. “Get down!”

  Jordan shook her head. “Not until you let him go.”

  “I could put a bullet in your head right now!”

  “Yes, you could. But by the time my body hits the ground, so will yours.” She glanced over her shoulder, looked back at Chris, Hallier, Spencer, and the four unknown men positioned in the complex. “I count seven. My guess is the first two bullets that’ll hit you will be headshots. The rest you’ll take to the body. You’ll never walk away from this alive unless you take me as a hostage. At least then you’ll stand a chance. So, what’s it going to be? The two of us dead, or you walking out of here while you still have a shot at an open casket funeral?”

  Qin stared at Jordan, considered her options. “Turn around,” she said.

  “Does that mean we have a deal?”

  “It means turn the fuck around.”

  Jordan turned.

  “Hands behind your head. Interlock your fingers.”

  Jordan fisted her hands, held them at her side. “Not a chance. Not before you let the boy go.”

  “This isn’t a negotiation.”

  “The hell it isn’t.”

  Qin kept her gun trained on Jordan’s head, turned, looked at Bullet. She yelled. “Get out of here!”

  Too terrified to move, Bullet stayed where he was.

  Jordan glanced in his direction. “It’s all right,” she said. “Everything’s fine. No one’s going to hurt you. You can go.”

  “I g-gotta get my dog first,” Bullet said. He pointed to the garden shed.

  Jordan nodded. “Make it fast.”

  Bullet walked quickly but cautiously to the shed, knocked on the door. Maddy jiggled the door, slid it aside. Eddy stepped outside, greeted his master, then observed the street full of strangers. The dog sensed the tension in the air and growled. “It’s okay, Eddy,” Bullet said. He comforted the dog. “It’s okay, boy.”

  Qin looked across the road, watched as the shed door slid open, saw the dog appear, then glimpsed the woman standing behind the animal. “You!” she yelled.

  With lightning speed, she turned her weapon in Maddy’s direction and fired.

  Inside the shed, Maddy screamed.

  46

  ZHANG LEFT THE Port of Los Angeles, followed Interstate 110 to the 405, exited the highway at Sherman Oaks and drove to his home. He parked the car in the garage, threw open the door, rushed inside the ranch style bungalow, took the stairs two at a time to the second floor, entered his office, sat in his chair, and turned his attention to the ornate brass lamp sitting on the corner of his desk.

  Zhang opened his side drawer, removed a pocketknife from the pencil tray, opened it, pulled the lamp towards him, then turned it on its side. Piercing the protective green felt bottom with the tip of the blade, he slid the knife along the inner surface of the lamp base, cutting away at the soft material until the inside of the lamp revealed its hidden treasure. He removed the thumb drive, crumpled the felt, shoved it up inside the cavity of the metal base, then stood. After slipping the drive into his pocket, he returned the lamp to its former position.

  From the credenza behind his desk, he removed two leather satchels which he had set aside for his escape. He took a quick inventory of the contents of the first satchel: burner phone, backup weapon with full clip, American passport, Chinese passport representing his false diplomatic status, cross draw shoulder holster, change of clothes, shoes, and basic toiletries. The second satchel, which was larger than the first, contained half a million dollars in U.S. cash in small denominations. Satisfied all was in order, he zipped the bags shut, picked them up, and left the room.

  The nearest embassy office was forty-five minutes away. On his arrival he would demand to speak to their highest-ranking officials, tell them who he really was and the depth of his covert assignment, present them with the thumb drive and allow them to validate its contents, then request he be placed into protective custody. He knew what would happen next. A flurry of calls would be made. A special protection detail would be assigned to assure his safety and security as the information was vetted at the highest levels of government intelligence. The information he had to share would make him famous in espionage circles, a veritable rock star. Agencies at all levels of government, from the CIA to the NSA, would be clamoring to get a piece of him to know what, if anything, about their operations had been compromised. He had been looking forward to this day for a very long time. His mind wandered. Where to live… Big Sur, California or Boulder, Colorado... Miami, Florida or Minneapolis, Minnesota. His preference was somewhere w
arm, with a view of the ocean, but the mountains would also suffice. And a sports car. That was a must. It had to be something sleek, fast, and expensive. Perhaps a Porsche, Ferrari, or Lamborghini. He had grown tired of China’s shoulder to shoulder municipalities and impossibly congested thoroughfares. America offered open roads and the freedom to travel anywhere, and he intended to take full advantage of all the gifts it had to offer.

  Zhang suddenly felt a rise in adrenaline; the reaction borne of excitement, not fear. He couldn’t believe it. His dreams were finally about to come true.

  As he descended the stairs to the main floor, his mind once again began to drift. Since his arrival in the U.S., he had found American women to be much more beautiful than those in his home country. Maybe one day he would find the woman of his dreams and settle down, but not now. He had wasted enough of his life hiding in the shadows, working covertly in the service of others. This was his time, and he had already wasted too much of it. Now there was living to do.

  At the foot of the stairs, Zhang suddenly stopped. The front door was ajar. The voice that came out of nowhere sent a chill down his spine.

  Chang stepped around the corner into the room, accompanied by a second MSS agent. The operative kept his weapon trained on Zhang.

  Zhang looked down. A red dot from the operative’s gun’s laser pointer danced in the middle of his chest.

  Chang spoke. “Your partner and the woman,” he demanded. “Where are they?”

  47

  QIN’S BULLET RIPPED through the thin metal of the shed door, caught Maddy in her shoulder, and dropped her to the ground.

  “No!” Bullet yelled. Instinctively, the teen threw his body on top of her, shielding her against the next round that was sure to follow.

  From the intersection, Spencer heard his wife scream. “Maddy!” he yelled, then broke from the cover of the Hummer and ran down the road towards the shed.

  Eddy jumped forward; his canine sense peaked. Instinctively, he recognized the mortal danger facing his master. Shackles up, the dog dropped its head, bared its teeth, growled, then stalked fearlessly into the middle of the street, its eyes locked on the woman with the gun, ready to attack.

  Bullet looked up, saw the dangerous position Eddy had placed himself in as he attempted to use his massive frame as a barrier of flesh and bone against the next assault. He yelled. “Eddy, STAY!”

  The dog growled louder, deeper, gnashed his teeth, took another step.

  “EDDY!”

  Eddy looked over his shoulder, glanced at his master, whined, then slowly backed up, never taking his eyes off the woman.

  Bullet scurried to his dog, grabbed him by his collar, held him in place, calmed him down. “Good boy, Eddy,” he said. “Good, good boy.”

  Knowing the agent would make her move the second she turned her gun away from her, Qin struck preemptively. She jumped into the air and delivered a devastating spinning back kick to Jordan’s head, landed squarely on her feet, then turned and ran.

  Chris fired at the woman as she crossed the street. The round glanced harmlessly off a concrete telephone pole. He ran to his partner. “Jordan,” he said. “Are you okay?”

  The unexpected attack had taken Jordan by surprise and dropped her to the ground. She struggled to her feet, shook off the blow and ran across the lawn. “I’m good,” she yelled to Chris as she recovered her weapon. “Check on Maddy and the kid. She may have been hit. I’m going after her.”

  “Not alone, you’re not!”

  Jordan was already twenty feet ahead of him and on the run. “They’re the priority now, not me. Help them, then get them out of here. Go!”

  Chris ran to the shed. Sensing he was not a threat, Eddy wagged his tail, stepped out of the way. Chris entered the shed and assessed the damage to Maddy’s shoulder. “You must be Dr. Coltraine,” he said.

  “I am,” Maddy answered.

  “FBI Special Agent Chris Hanover. Jordan’s partner.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Same. Lean forward. Let me have a look.”

  Maddy groaned. Bullet held her hand as she leaned forward. Chris turned on his flashlight, inspected the wound, found no exit point. “The bullet’s still in there. We need to get you to a hospital.” He scanned the light over her body, saw the blood on her leg.

  “That one went clean through,” Maddy said.

  “You made it all the way from the boatyard to here with a bullet wound to the leg? You must be one tough cookie.”

  Maddy thought of her father. “Dad was a SEAL. I think it’s in the blood.”

  Chris smiled. “No doubt.”

  As Spencer reached the shed, Chris moved out of the way. “Maddy!” he cried. He dropped to his knees, hugged his wife. “You’re alive!”

  Chris turned his attention to Bullet. “How about you, son? Are you all right?”

  Bullet nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely frickin’ golden.”

  Chris put his hand on his shoulder. “I saw what you did. You put your life in danger to save Dr. Coltraine’s life.”

  Bullet shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

  Chris smiled. “On the contrary, it was a huge deal. One that I assure you won’t go unrecognized.”

  Bullet stared at Maddy. “Is she gonna be okay?”

  Chris nodded. “I think so, thanks to you and the big guy here.” He patted Eddy’s massive head. The dog chuffed, soaked up the affection. “He’s beautiful. What’s his name?”

  Bullet smirked. “His Ugliness, Sir Eddy.”

  Chris smiled. “Of course, it is.”

  From down the street, a gunshot tore through the night. Chris jumped to his feet, exited the shed.

  Hallier stood in the middle of the road, weapon drawn. He pointed to a business at the far end of the street. “It came from there,” he yelled. “Caplan Auto Wreckers.”

  Chris yelled over his shoulder as he ran. “Call an ambulance for Dr. Coltraine. Gunshot wounds to the shoulder and leg. I’m going after Jordan!”

  “Copy that.” Hallier removed his phone, dialed 911.

  48

  “HAVE A SEAT, Agent Zhang,” Chang said.

  Taken aback by the sudden presence of his handler and the second MSS agent in his home, Zhang stood frozen in place. He knew what this meant. They had come to the marina searching for him and Qin and their missing cargo, seen him leave the business complex, followed him to his home. Now, standing in front of his superior with a satchel of cash in one hand and his future in the other, Zhang knew what was about to happen.

  Chang stepped forward, relieved him of the bags, pointed to a chair. “That was not a request,” he said.

  Zhang walked to the chair, sat down.

  Chang opened the bags, rifled through their contents, found the weapon and the passports. “Going somewhere?” he asked.

  Zhang remained quiet.

  Chang continued. “Where is Agent Qin?”

  Zhang shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  Chang stepped forward. “You don’t know where your partner is on this of all nights?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “We got separated.”

  Chang crossed his arms. “Separated, or chose to go your separate ways? There is a difference.”

  “She went after the woman after she lost her,” Zhang lied, knowing full well that he was the reason for the failure of their mission. “Dr. Coltraine overpowered her. By the time I knew what had happened, she was gone. I ordered Qin to go after her. We split up. I searched the area but there was no sign of her or the target.”

  “And because of that, you decided your only option was to return home, pack your bags and abort the mission?”

  “Her actions resulted in the loss of Dr. Coltraine,” Zhang stated. “I tried to resolve the situation. I wasn’t successful. I know the penalty that comes with that.”

  “You could have discussed this with me,” Chang said. “I may have believed you.”

  “Would you?”


  Chang considered his response. “No, I wouldn’t.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You know the freighter is prepped and ready to leave port.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that a submarine has been dispatched and is on its way to the transfer point as we speak.”

  “Yes.”

  “And that, as a result of your inexcusable actions and those of Agent Qin, our government has now incurred the loss of countless hours of mission preparation time and hundreds of thousands of dollars in asset mobilization expenses.”

  “That was never my intention.”

  “So you say,” Chang replied. He kicked the bags lying at his feet. “But these tell a different story.”

  Zhang knew his fate was sealed. He let his mind wander. He would have preferred the Lamborghini over the Ferrari.

  “Was Qin going with you?”

  A new identity. Southern California. Big Sur. A house overlooking the ocean. That would have been perfect.

  “I don’t believe you were separated at all, Agent Zhang,” Chang said. “I think you and Agent Qin cut some sort of deal. You mind telling me with whom? America? Russia? Korea?”

  Zhang looked up at his handler. “Go to hell,” he said.

  Chang shook his head. “You were a good agent at one time, Zhang,” he said. “Now look at you. You’re soft. You’ve lost your edge. But most importantly, you’ve turned your back on your homeland.”

  “It was never my homeland. It was my place of birth. It was never where I was meant to live my life.”

  Chang waved his hand around the room. “And this is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll be happy to accommodate you,” Chang said. “I see no reason whatsoever that you cannot enjoy the rest of your life right here in the comfort of your perfect American home.” He spoke to his subordinate. “Take him to the garage.”