by Tom Haase
“Let’s get moving,” Scott said. He grabbed Gerti’s hand and they headed for Alexandro’s dwelling.
At the apartment building, Gerti approached the main door and pretended to examine the list of apartments on the entry keypad. They had discussed this as part of the plan. Since they didn’t know anyone to call for entry, the plan relied on someone exiting while Gerti stood next to the front entry door.
She started to get nervous after four or five minutes standing in the entryway. She examined her surroundings, no security camera covered the front lobby. Fortunately, an elderly woman exited with a large shopping bag hung over her shoulder and a walking cane in the right hand. She didn’t appear to even notice Gerti when she moved past. Gerti moved with lightning speed and stuck her foot in the door before it closed completely. That accomplished, she turned and used a hand signal to call Scott forward from where he patiently sat in the park in front of the building.
Inside, they didn’t say a word. The apartment they sought occupied the top floor, based on its number, and they used the elevator to go up.
“So far, so good,” Scott said.
“I wish you hadn’t said that,” Gerti intoned.
When they exited the elevator, the hallway contained no one. There were only two doors off the hall. It appeared only two penthouse apartments existed on this floor of the building. Gerti had memorized the number for Alexandro’s apartment from the keypad entry.
“Now we need your skills at lock picking,” Gerti addressed Scott.
“What skill? I’ve never picked a lock in my life.”
“Here I thought you were catching on to how to be a crook.” Gerti gave him a big smile. She reached into her purse and pulled out a lock-picking kit.
“Where did you get that?” Scott asked in amazement.
“In my business, the business I will soon take over from my father, this is a skill he taught me from the first days of my apprenticeship into the world of off-the-book acquisitions. I haven’t used the skill in a while, so it might take me a minute to get the door open.”
She went to work on the door locks, one in the handle and the other on the door. She opened the first one in less than a minute, but time went by and she failed to get the other lock.
“We need to hurry up. It’s been twenty minutes. He could return any time.” Scott continuously looked back at the elevator. He went over and sent it down to the ground floor. If it started up, they would have some warning.
“I can’t get it,” Bridget said.
“I didn’t get to the break-and-entry class, but let me try my method,” Scott said. He backed up across the hall and attacked the door with all his might. His shoulder bounced off it, but the door did give some.
“Come on, help me.”
They both attacked the door, both of their shoulders impacting simultaneously, and it gave way.
A piercing siren blasted in their ears.
“Shit,” they said in unison.
They peered inside the room. An icon sat on the mantle above the fireplace in some type of protective case. It looked like the same one in Matt’s picture. Scott rushed forward to grab it. He tried to pick it up but couldn’t.
“It’s bolted to the mantel. I can’t budge the case.”
Gerti screamed, “We gotta go. We can’t get it. We don’t have time.” Gerti pushed Scott toward the door. The siren screeched in their ears. He pulled away from her and used his handkerchief to wipe the doorknob clean as it might be the only thing to hold their fingerprints. Then she remembered that Scott touched the case, so she wiped it. As they passed the elevator, she saw the numbers rising on the display. They ran to the stairway and rapidly descended taking the steps two or three at a time. They went all the way to the basement and then exited out a side door that didn’t abut the square to the front of the building. On exiting, they turned left and headed toward the Desoto Hilton a block away.
Shortly afterwards, they sat drinking a coffee in the hotel snack bar and smiling at their timely escape.
“Not a complete success, but enough to warrant a congratulations to you,” Scott said. “If you hadn’t gotten the lower lock open we would’ve never broken the door open.”
“We both did good. We didn’t break the eleventh commandment,” Gerti said.
“Now we know for sure the icon exists, and it’s in the possession of Mr. Alexandro. That’s a great win as far as I’m concerned. We need to tell Bridget. ” Scott scooted closer to Gerti on the bench seat they occupied and gave her a lingering kiss.
When they looked up, two FBI men, showing their badges, stood watching them.
“You’re under arrest.”
42
Onboard FBI Gulfstream Aircraft
When they reached cruising altitude, Matt felt comfortable and began to relax for the first time in days. His rear end didn’t hurt much, but more importantly, he and Bridget were now back in the chase to get the arms dealer. He didn’t intend to let him escape again.
At his obvious sigh of relief, Bridget, seated beside him, spoke up. "No more pain in the ass?"
"Yeah. You're still here." Matt grinned.
"Hardy har, har, har."
The flight attendant approached his seat and extended a telephone reaching across her to give it to Matt.
“What, I’m not here?” Bridget said. “I’m capable of answering the phone.”
“You surely are. I’m slowly learning to not be protective of you, but this is an FBI plane and I’m an FBI agent. So please back it off a little.”
“The director wants a word,” the attendant said. She handed the phone to him and withdrew to the rear of the plane. Matt gave a “what the hell is up now” look to Bridget and answered it.
“Matt, glad you’re back on the job,” said the director. “Liz tells me you’re up to date on the events in Savannah. There’s a new twist that just occurred there. Your compatriots, Scott Donavan and Gertrude Schultz, are under arrest. They tried to break into Alexandro’s apartment. The agents watching the place saw them enter and watched them exit after they set off an alarm.”
“Is there any other proof it was them?” Matt asked.
“Not really, so we’ll hold them for a few hours and restate our order to not interfere and then they’ll be released. Ensure that you tell them, the next time it won’t be so easy.”
“Okay, will do. Thank you, sir.”
“Liz is monitoring the phones of Alexandro and Karim. Nothing to report at this time. Just keep those two young people under control. I don’t want this mission blown by amateurs.” The director hung up.
Matt relayed the contents of the call to Bridget.
“We must keep them with us for the duration of this operation,” Bridget said.
“Or in handcuffs if they disobey,” promised Matt.
* * *
Mike Alexandro returned from his morning coffee to find the police at his apartment. Before he entered, he took a few seconds to look for his icon, and seeing it still on the mantel, he relaxed. There was nothing else of any real value at his place. All monies were instantly deposited into a bank, no cash or securities resided at his apartment. He kept no record of any business dealings on any computer, consequently there was nothing to be learned from any CSI type who could examine his laptop. All records safely resided in his head.
He entered his apartment and listened as the police reported someone must have tried to rob him, but the alarm scared them off. The manager had the door replaced within the hour. The police requested he inform them if he found anything missing. Mike carefully examined his space and told them it appeared to be all there. He just wanted them to leave but knew he had to restrain himself until the police procedures played out.
Looking to the detective in charge he asked, “Do you know who did this?”
“No sir. There’re no security cameras in the building and, so far, no one we’ve interviewed saw anything unusual. It was probably a random act and your security system ran’em off.�
�� The police finished up in a few minutes and departed.
Mike sat in his living room and tried to determine what would be his next move. His instinct for survival screamed at him to run, to get away from Savannah. Something or someone had targeted him. He felt it in his bones.
His private phone rang. He answered it.
“Mr. Alexandro, my name is Karim and I delivered the money to you, if you remember. I have replaced Ashil. I’ll be the one dealing with you in the future. I’m calling to confirm our shipment will be delivered in two days. Is that still correct?”
In his mind, this call confirmed his earlier instinct that something had gone wrong. He couldn’t put his finger directly on the cause, but he instinctively knew to get out of town, to get away from this group of terrorists.
“That is correct. I’ll contact you tomorrow with the details of where you can pick up the goods. It will be in the Jacksonville area.”
“I’ll wait for your call.” The line went dead.
Running Dmitri’s operation here in the states made him a millionaire a few times over. He now believed it would be a good time to retire for a while. So he called Dmitri.
“No fucking way,” were the first words out of Dmitri’s mouth when Mike told him his plan.
That imperial asshole doesn’t understand my situation.
“Uncle, the law is closing in on me. I can feel it. Let’s get this exchange done and let me get out for a few months and reestablish myself somewhere else. If I stay here, I swear to you, I will be compromised or destroyed. I believe I can do better for us both if I am alive and free. I know how to set up the operation again and then we’ll make even more money with the experience I have.”
The line remained silent for a long time.
“Okay, just get the shipment to the buyers and get the rest of the money. The bodyguard I promised you will be there tomorrow with the shipment. Use him to help you get away and to get set up in a new location. Keep me posted so I can arrange for a different method of delivery in the future. Don’t screw this up.”
“Yes, Uncle.” He hung up. Mike knew the bodyguard wouldn’t work for him even though that’s the way he needed to play it. Dmitri would be the man’s real boss.
Mike’s mind raced, perhaps the time to return to Russia had arrived and there he would eliminate the bastard and take over the business. He needed to prepare to return and do that as soon as this shipment got delivered, so he packed and decided he would take his icon with him on the exchange. He would not return to his apartment, as someone knew about it, someone who shouldn’t have, and he would leave immediately with the bodyguard on a pretense to go and talk to his uncle. Dmitri’s reign would soon be over.
43
St. Petersburg, Russia
Dmitri Alexandrovitch paced in a circle around his palatial office after hanging up on Michael, his nephew. Gold sconces adorned the area near the fireplace, priceless paintings hung on the walls, and the window gave a grand view of the Neva River. He rarely paid attention to his finer decorative surroundings except for two paintings he had a fondness for hanging over his desk. Only women provided the right type of beauty to engender a response from him.
Michael’s phone call caused him to examine in detail his operations in America. He’d ordered Michael to increase his earnings by twenty-five percent. So far, the young man failed to achieve even a modicum of improvement in profits. Even though he promised, nothing had materialized in the coffers. He hated to contemplate punishing his only living relative, but business was business, and profits needed to be made.
He’d always taken care of and provided for Michael since his brother’s death, but the boy lacked strict discipline and seemed to believe that their blood connection would always protect him. That youth was now a man and not pulling his weight in the organization. His earlier hopes that Michael might one day take over the business were now proving unfounded and this involved a great disappointment to him. A first cousin of Michael’s, who betrayed them at the factory under interrogation, had been an up-and-comer in his opinion, but the lad broke. After that event, he exercised his choice to eliminate him, so now Michael remained his only blood relative in the business. This made it very difficult to envision removing him entirely.
Should he have him killed? He didn’t like that option as a beginning position. Maybe he should order him home for some “counseling.” That option would at least give him a chance to reach the boy and get him to focus on the business. Dmitri’s thought process, when he at last finished running the options through his mind, decided on the latter course.
He opened his laptop and sent a text message to the bodyguard on the ship containing the weapons for Savannah. The man should be close to the port by now and would be able to receive messages on his phone. He typed:
After delivery of the goods, bring the family member home. No excuses accepted.
He would give his nephew one last chance.
* * *
In Washington, D.C., Liz Garcia spent most of her time in the monitoring station to catch any activity on the cell phones of Karim or Michael Alexandro, aka Alexandrovitch. She managed to catch only three hours of sleep the previous night. The early morning sunlight began to peek into the room through the half-open blinds.
Suddenly, the IT tech’s hand went up in the air. He waved at her to approach. She rushed over to his desk and put on the extra headset and listened to the entire conversation. When the call ended, she rushed to the director’s office.
“Sir, we picked up a phone conversation between Karim and Michael Alexandro. They set the location of the weapon’s delivery for tomorrow at an abandoned filling station off Route 17 near Jacksonville, Florida. The exchange is set for three in the afternoon. The call only lasted thirty five seconds.”
“This is great information. Did you learn anything else?” the director queried.
“Actually, we did. The GPS tracker on Karim’s phone gave us a surprise. He is in Savannah, Georgia. I can’t figure that out,” Liz said.
“Give Matt a call and update him,” the director ordered. “Get a team ready to intercept the shipment at the location you — No, wait. If we do that, everyone will know about it. Let’s hold off for now. We have a SWAT team in Savannah, and they can be deployed if we need them tomorrow.”
“If the weapons exchange goes down, I suggest we have them on immediate standby, because Matt and Bridget will need help to take down an unknown number of terrorists,” Liz said.
“Agreed. I’ll call the on-site commander there, get him on standby, and order him to tell no one, not even his team about the target. Keep me informed immediately if you learn anything else.”
Liz walked back to the monitoring station thinking, “Who the hell else would she keep informed?” She called Matt and brought him up to date as the director ordered.
When she opened the station door, the IT tech’s hand waved the signal for her to get on the extra headphone.
44
Savannah, Georgia
Karim put down the phone after he completed his conversation with Alexandro. He produced a thin smile that didn’t extend up to his eyes. If the man intended to deliver the weapons tomorrow, then he must have them in his possession today. That only made sense. He wouldn’t want to unload and store them somewhere for fear of discovery. He wouldn’t want to take them out of the container once off loaded from the ship. Consequently, Karim concluded, he would receive the container at the port, check the cargo at some predetermined site, and proceed on to the specified rendezvous and never actually unload the weapons until he delivered them.
Karim now believed his plan to intercept the weapons at the port made imminent sense. By implementing his action he believed that Alexandro would never anticipate such a bold stroke nor would he be prepared for it. He would have the goods, perhaps dispense with Alexandro permanently, and then set up his own network, as the leader of Dmitri’s organization, for future operations.
He needed to know if the FBI
or another agency monitored the shipment or planned to intercept it. Would they be watching him and, if for some reason, his plans at the port didn’t work out, would there be any FBI or ATF agents at the Jacksonville location to intercept the exchange?
He wanted to cover all bases, which meant he required the information that only Alexandro’s source could provide. One goal he established for himself was to acquire the name of the source so he might continue to pay this valuable asset after Alexandro’s elimination. He called Alexandro for the second time that morning.
On hearing Alexandro answer, he asked, “What is the latest on any government agents for tomorrow?”
Alexandro unloaded on him. “You’re a nobody to me, Karim. I have people at the highest levels to keep me informed. If you need to know anything, I’ll call you. Don’t call me again.” He hung up.
* * *
Matt and Bridget arrived in the city late the previous night, earlier than originally planned. The FBI supplied jet took care of that. They went directly to the hotel where Scott and Gerti stayed and met them in the hotel lounge.
“What the hell were you doing?” Bridget demanded on seeing Scott.
“We only did what we told you we would,” Scott said.
“Not exactly,” Bridget said.” I didn’t tell you to attempt to break into Alexandro’s apartment. That you did on your own after we told you to stand down and wait. You had the FBI arrest you. What were you thinking?” she demanded.
“We wanted to see if he had the icon,” Gerti said. “We had to do something and it seemed a good idea at the time.”
“Sis, listen,” Scott interjected. “We saw the icon. The same one you showed us from Matt’s picture on his phone. It’s in the apartment. We tried to get it but couldn’t because of the way he’d secured it to the fireplace mantel. Because we broke down the door, the security alarm was blaring, so we had to get out of there before the police arrived. We just couldn’t get it out before the cops came. So we bolted, but we saw it. It’s there.”