Die Again To Save Tomorrow (Die Again to Save the World Book 2)

by Ramy Vance

  Martha thought she’d gag on the buzzwords, and Molly, another tall, leggy blond Swedish-model type, came in carrying two frothy drinks on a tray.

  Lucas graciously pointed toward the two on the couch. “Ah, thank you, Molly.”

  Molly bent down over the coffee table and set down Zach’s drink, and Martha’s mouth dropped when she realized Molly made a conscious effort to let Zach see some cleavage. She rolled her eyes as the move practically incapacitated her intern.

  Molly set Martha’s unordered drink down. “And here you go, Officer Dragone. Great mention in the Times this week, by the way. You’re a real patriot, bringing down scumbags like Alister Pout.”

  Martha smiled wryly. Okay, this woman knew what she was doing. “Thank you.”

  Molly winked at them both and left the office.

  Martha sipped her tea and found it was quite good.

  Lucas watched them drink. “Great stuff, huh?” They simultaneously agreed, and Lucas clapped his hands together loudly. “So, what can I do for the NYPD?”

  Martha set down the drink and got down to business. “We’re here about One Response. Obviously, with such a large-scale event, we want to make sure that you have security as your utmost concern.”

  Lucas nodded vigorously, although Martha noticed the tiniest glint of irritation in his face. “Security is a top concern for us, clearly. We’ve complied with all city and state regulations in regard to providing necessary security measures. We’ve hired a private security firm. They are truly the best in the business.

  “You can’t tell me who that is, though?”

  “I’m afraid not. Not without a warrant, anyway.”

  “Right.”

  “They’re doing the usual: installing metal detectors at all entrance points, facial recognition video surveillance at every angle, and they’re making sure we stay in compliance with the ratio of attendants to security personnel. We’re also working with…” He searched his memory. “His name is Officer Bramley at NYPD. You know him?”

  Martha smiled at the name of the showboat cop who had been on reality TV. “Yes, I know him.”

  Lucas scratched his head. “Yeah, we’ve been working with him on and off, filing security permits. He’s sending us some guys, I think. You might want to check with him.”

  Martha took all this information down. Everything seemed to check out, and Bramley’s paperwork would likely have the security firm's name. That would be useful information, and she didn’t like Lucas being evasive about it. Other than that, everything here seemed clean and aboveboard. So, how did the summit get attacked during the keynote address?

  “Okay, that all sounds on the up and up. May I ask what One Response entails?”

  Lucas smiled and scratched his head again. “Well, we’ve got everything in the ads. I’ll—”

  Molly knocked on the glass door. Lucas turned toward her. She stood in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but the guys from the light show are here.”

  Light show, Martha thought. Rueben had said the attack drones were part of a light show. Was it possible that Lucas and his company were part of this?

  Lucas stood. “Thanks, Molly.”

  Molly left, and Lucas gestured Martha and Zach toward the door. Martha didn’t move. “Light show, huh?”

  “Oh yeah, that’s one of the surprises. We’re going to pull this out at the finale. One of the most high-tech light shows ever. You have tickets?”

  “No. He does, I don’t.”

  Lucas raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, you should. You can’t buy tickets now, but I’ll tell you what…” He popped over to a desk drawer and rifled through it. He came back and handed Martha four laminated lanyard cards. “VIP. On me. Both of you and your dates. We appreciate NYPD checking in on us, and it never hurts to have more officers on the ground. We hope you enjoy it.”

  Martha glanced at the cards with the One Response logo and a barcode, and he slipped his business card in the middle. “Thanks.”

  He winked at her and opened the door. “No problem. Let me know if you have any more questions. You have my number.”

  “I do. Thank you.”

  Martha and Zach left the office, passing a handful of tech guys congregating in the lobby. She told Zach, “I take it those are the light show guys.”

  “I would assume so.”

  She noticed as she passed that one of them had the Global Research Initiative logo on his shirt. What was that company?

  Martha sat alone in her office with Buzz on speaker. “Global Research Initiative? Where did you hear about them?”

  “One Republic Entertainment invested in them, and they’re putting on a light show. I don’t see anything wrong with any of it. It’s the only thread I have, and I’m pulling on it.”

  Buzz was quiet for a minute.

  “Buzz?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m still here. Just processing this.”

  “Processing what? Is it something?”

  “Yeah, it’s definitely something. GRI has gone before the scientific research association for several ethics violations over the last decade.”

  “Really? Like what?”

  “Fuuuuucked-up shit.”

  Martha’s eyes widened, and she leaned over the phone. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. A lot of what they’re doing is classified, but it’s all shady, under-the-table human rights violations.”

  “Human rights violations? In what way?”

  “Like....umm…experimenting with what they call ‘disposable peoples.’”

  “Disposable peoples? I would assume that would mean the very ones the One World Campaign is supposed to help.”

  “Exactly. They offer orphans and the poor of underdeveloped countries small amounts of money and decent housing, or jobs, or cars for them or their family members to undergo very experimental clinical trials.”

  Martha felt sick to her stomach. “Like Nazi doctors.”

  “Sort of. Only it’s voluntary. There’s nothing wrong with clinical trials. People do it all the time. It’s just they can do much more aggressive trials, and much, much cheaper, with people that are desperate or don’t know any better.”

  “Oh my God.”

  Buzz was quiet for a few minutes. “It’s some dark stuff. They’re into other weird stuff. Like using high-level frequencies to interact with the brain waves of an entire city and reroute them to make independent people think how you want them to.”

  “Wha—you can do that?”

  “Sort of. It’s out there. It’s based on the idea of matching the electrical frequency of brain waves. Human brain activity is only ever a series of chemical and electrical impulses, anyway.”

  Martha never was comfortable with that assessment, but how else would Buzz see things? “Right.”

  “So, if you can tap into that electrical impulse in a subject’s brain and match it…theoretically, you could manipulate it.”

  “Manipulating brain waves?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know if it works or not. But they’re into that, and they have whole research centers in Thailand and places in Africa where they try it. They’re doing that and some other stuff that Aki probably knows about and can’t discuss.”

  “So it makes sense why they might be involved with the summit attack?”

  “I choose not to speculate.”

  “We’ve got to get back into that office. Do some detective work and find out how deep this thing goes.”

  “I can’t go. I’m double-booked tonight.”

  She made a face into the speaker. “What are you doing tonight?”

  “I have other plans.”

  “Buzz, a terrorist is going to destroy New York and kill much of the world’s leaders in about twenty-four hours. If we don’t—” Water gushed in the background. “Are you in the bath?”

  “I’m taking a dip in the jacuzzi. If these terrorists succeed and anarchy and looting come to destroy all that I’ve worked a lifetime to build, I’d rather spend the last night pa
mpering myself in luxury.”

  “You’re twenty-three.”

  “Lifetimes are relative. You can ask Rueben about that. Besides, I don’t do break-ins. Or jail. I’m much too delicate for all of that.”

  She groaned and ended the call.

  She would have to do this alone. She used a trick Buzz had showed her to download the One Republic Entertainment building’s blueprints. However, when she stared at them, she couldn’t figure out how to break in. Too bad Aki wasn’t here. She’d know. Martha’s job was to keep people from breaking in, not do it herself. That gave her an idea.

  She paged Zach. “Come in here.”

  Zach arrived in her office, looking bright-eyed and excited. “We got any new developments?”

  “We’re going to break into One Republic.”

  Zach grinned. “I’m so down.” Then his eyes darted back and forth. “How?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “My friend has a key card.”

  She shook her head. “Too traceable. Get your stuff—we’re going to the jail.”

  “The jail?”

  “Yeah. First, we have to stop at the comic book store.”

  Zach clutched his head between his hands. “You’re right. I’d make a bad cop. I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Martha pulled the squad car in front of Comic Geek, a tiny comic book store next to a CBD distributor. As soon as she did, everyone on the street and in both stores magically disappeared.

  Zach laughed. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah, that happens when you’re a cop. You get used to it. Come on.”

  Martha and Zach entered the comic book store, and the smell of marijuana greeted them.

  Zach took in the frightened look on the faces of the customers. “Ah. I see.”

  “Yeah. I could go to town in here if I wanted.”

  She approached the counter, and the twenty-year-old kid with the Dungeons and Dragons t-shirt stiffened. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “Where’s Don?”

  “Don, the manager? He’s in the back.”

  “Can you get him for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The kid ran to the back, and a few minutes later, Don showed up. He was a tall, lanky man with glasses, a shaved head, and a live boa constrictor around his neck.

  “Hello, Officer Dragone. What can I do for you?”

  “You know what I want.”

  Don cocked his head toward the manager’s office. “We keep it in the back for you.”

  Zach shot Martha a confused look, but she didn’t respond. She followed Don to the manager’s office. It was a tiny, cluttered room with comic book posters, an old beat-up desk, and a chair that looked like it had come out of a dumpster.

  He sat and gestured at Zach. “Shut the door. We don’t want anyone knowing about this.” The manager reached under the desk and pulled out a cardboard box, and tossed it onto the surface.

  Martha peered in and gravely thumbed through it.

  Zach peeked in. “Archie comics?”

  Don placed his finger over his mouth. “Shhh. People around here believe we’re a serious comic book shop. If they knew we were selling this kind of stuff...” He shook his head and sighed deeply. “It would be the end of us. They’d never take us seriously again. We could be labeled a ‘hobby shop.’”

  Zach flipped through a box and shrugged. “What’s wrong with being a hobby shop?”

  “It’s the end. Once you’re a hobby shop, people don’t sell you the collectors’ stuff anymore. When you can’t get the collectors’ stuff anymore, then to survive, you have to ‘go corporate.’” He shuddered at the thought. He grabbed a lid and shoved it over the open box. “Use the back door.”

  Martha winked and grabbed the container. “Thanks, Don.”

  He gestured toward the snake. “We’re still good, right?”

  “As always, Don, no one will bother you.”

  Don nodded and smiled, and Martha and Zach left the store by way of the back entrance.

  As soon as they got outside, Zach laughed. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s an old deal. Sometimes you have to make deals to get deals.” She shoved the box into the car and made a call. “Hey, Robyn. Get me Slasher. I’m on my way.”

  She got into the car, and Zach sat with his green leather journal. “Who’s Slasher?”

  “You’ll see.”

  They arrived at the prison and entered through the back entrance, box in tow. As soon as they walked in, a young black woman at the receptionist’s desk who appeared bored out of her mind greeted them. “Morning, Robyn.”

  “Hey, Martha. How’s life up on top?”

  “The same as life on the bottom. Just more paperwork.”

  Robyn laughed, and Martha set the box on the desk. “Check this for me.”

  Robyn went through the box, fanning through the pages of each magazine. “Good.”

  “Great. Is he ready?”

  “Yep. Down in interrogation three.”

  “Great.” Martha grabbed the box and motioned for Zach to follow.

  “So, where are we going?” he asked.

  “To see Slasher. He’s a Ukrainian butcher connected to some of Pout’s shady operations. He’s useful to law enforcement from time to time.”

  They arrived in interrogation room three. It was a small space with double-sided windows, a table, and a couple of folding chairs. Slasher sat on one side, his hands clasped, his beefy handcuffed wrists chained to a metal ring on the table. He was an older man, maybe sixties, tall—too tall—and hunched over in his orange jumpsuit. He had dark eyes and a face that looked like it had seen too much, with tufts of black hair framing the mostly bald spot on his head.

  Martha shut the door behind her. “Hello, Slasher.”

  “Officer Dragone. What do you have for me today?” His accent was thick and to the point. She set the box on the table, he opened it, and his face lit up like Christmas morning. “Oh, that Archie.”

  He fanned through the different issues, and Zach and Martha sat.

  “You have to love that Jughead. I can’t wait to see what hijinks they get into next.”

  He scanned one strip and laughed hard. He showed them the comic. “That Moose. He’s so dumb. He will never get Veronica. You Americans have the best sense of humor.”

  Zach and Martha looked at each other.

  Finally, Slasher set the magazines down. “What can I do for you now?”

  Martha pulled out some rolled-up copies of the blueprints to the One Republic Entertainment skyscraper. She leaned in and slid them over to him. “If someone wanted to break into that tower, how would they do it?”

  Slasher leaned back into his chair and grinned. “I know exactly how to do it. I used to work in that tower.”

  Martha raised an eyebrow. “Pout was connected to One Republic Entertainment? I should have guessed.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sunday, May 21, 7:11 p.m.

  Rueben and Aki had decided not to tell Marshall the news of their upcoming “wedding” right away. There was too much work to be done. They’d instead gone to CIA headquarters to crack down on researching and to use all the resources at their disposal to try to stop Pete. That meant Marshall got about twenty plainclothes agents outside the apartment, as well as an increased police presence in the neighborhood. If Pete made a move, they’d notify Rueben and Aki immediately, and the pair would rush to Marshall’s aid.

  As it happened, Pete made no move on Marshall Saturday night, and Rueben and Aki ended up sleeping at their desks. They resumed work the next morning and throughout Sunday. Now they were preparing to give Marshall the news.

  An hour ago, CIA Tech had reported that the signal tracking Marshall’s phone was on the move and could be heading toward Marshall’s apartment. They didn’t know yet.

  As soon as Aki finished up what she was working on, she and Rueben would head out to Marshall’s and “break the news.” Wi
th the possibility that Pete might make a move on Marshall at a moment’s notice, they’d be able to keep Marshall in their sights. They would have plenty of CIA agents on standby too, and if they needed to whisk Marshall away for safety, they could claim they needed him for some last-minute wedding activity.

  Rueben sat with Aki at her cubicle and listened to the buzz around them.

  The real IRA bomber had just cracked and given his sources. As promised during his interrogation, authorities were extraditing him back to Dublin. Sven was on the phone negotiating the deal with the Irish prime minister. The Russian mobster had escaped from custody in Langley, and heads were rolling on how that could have happened.

  Sven was about to burst a vein over that. His voice on speakerphone carried through his closed door and halfway through the bullpen. “I hand-delivered you an international terrorist with a confession, rap sheet, and idiot-proof evidence. How could you have possibly screwed this up?”

  Then there was an unrelated threat where someone had apparently shot up a Dunkin Donuts in Florida, and the guy had a swastika tattoo.

  The local authorities neutralized the threat, but it still had to be thoroughly investigated. Rueben was reading the memos on his laptop when Sven whisked by.

  He stopped at Aki’s cubicle where the two sat working on their wedding plans. “You guys made it out of jail.”

  Aki nodded. “Yes, sir. Now we’re working on a possible security breach at the summit. We have a lead, and we’re on it.”

  Sven nodded vigorously. “Keep up the good work.” Then he noticed her screen. “Wedding chapels?”

  She smiled. “Possible sting operation.”

  “Check out The Waterfall upstate. We’ve done a sting there before.”

  She looked intrigued. “The Waterfall?”

  “Yeah. It’s a tributary of Niagara Falls. We have a good relationship with the owner. What are you guys up to?”

  She answered quickly. “Too early to tell. I’ll let you know when we have something concrete.”

  “Good. I don’t need any more complications today.”