THAWED! (Cole Sudden C.I.A. Thrillers Book 3), page 14
“Yeah, that one. It’s The Villages, by the way, the town you are talking about. Anyway, old man Spano was so grateful for what we did that he not only paid our fee, but said he’d help us out if we needed anything, especially if it concerned the Middle Eastern investors who were buying up all the good horses in Kentucky. Only, he used another word for Middle Eastern.”
“I can imagine.”
“The Spano family doesn’t like anyone cutting into their operation here. Giacomo, that’s his real name, by the way, is older than dirt. He served in Korea and is a bit of a patriot. He thinks all Muslims are terrorists and I told him that we had information that some sort of attack was planned at the Derby. He was genuinely incensed. He loves Kentucky. The Spano family owns this hotel and reserves this suite every year in case their big shot friends get lucky with the broads. I told him I needed a base of operations and he gave it to me, gratis, for as long as we need it.”
“What about his big shot friends?”
“Said they could go fuck themselves.”
Sudden looked at the expansive suite, which featured several flat-screen HDTVs, wet bars with mini-fridges and a spectacular view of the Ohio River.
“Place is big enough.”
“Between the Agency and the Bureau,” Buss said, “we’ll need the room. Not to mention the state cops. Had to give them the terrorist story, too.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
“But not the whole truth. If that got out, there’d be plenty of hotel rooms available.”
There was a knock at the door. Sudden got up and took the room service cart after tipping the waiter.
Sudden and Buss both drank coffee while they ate their turkey club sandwiches, fries and apple pie.
“What’s the latest on Rebecca?”
“She’s being transferred to Ramstein Air Base in Germany, and then on to Bethesda,” Buss said. “I spoke to her. She’s weak but they expect a full recovery. She is devastated she can’t be here to take care of Kaddour Nazari herself. He killed her sister, after all.”
“We have bigger things to worry about, Nige. But she must know that whatever happens, the bastard is a dead man.”
“At least she got the sister,” Buss said.
“That was more the Russian’s doing.”
“She must have been a tough cookie.”
“Borin had the moves. But none of us saw the shooting at the shipping office coming.”
“No one could have.”
“Maybe.” Sudden shrugged. “So, what have we got?”
“The state and local cops have beefed up security at the track. That shouldn’t arouse too much suspicion, especially after the French attacks and the cop shootings in this country. People like to see uniforms. I don’t think it will scare away Kaddour. Hopefully, he won’t notice all the plainclothes agents from the Bureau and the Agency, and the C.D.C. folks. I told them to ditch their suits and try to blend in.”
“That may take some doing,” Sudden said. “Did you see some of the outfits people are wearing, especially the women’s hats? They’re crazy. Are we sure the virus hasn’t already been released.”
“Pretty sure,” Buss said, smiling. “In any event, we have multiple eyes on the Nazari group, including Kaddour. Here’s a current photo of him.” Buss opened a folder on the table and slid the picture over to Sudden. “One of our guys got it at a party. The son-of-a-bitch is not hiding or anything. He even posed for it.”
Sudden looked at the photo, in which Kaddour Nazari, smiling broadly, had his arm around a beautiful blond.
“They make a handsome couple,” Sudden remarked. “Who’s the woman?”
“Arm candy, probably,” Buss said. “The Nazaris are rich, after all. You know how the Saudis are when they get to the West. The Koran goes out the door and the hookers come in.” He slid another photo to Sudden. “Here is a shot of the father.”
Sudden picked up the picture of Ghani Nazari, a respectable-looking man, white-haired man who looked well-fed.
“He’s smiling, too. I guess he doesn’t know about his daughter in the freezer.”
“How could he? For my money, he doesn’t know what his son is up to, either.”
Both men heard the door unlock. When it opened, several men carrying laptops and other gear walked in. One of them waved casually to Buss and Sudden and then they all started setting up their equipment on various tables and counters. Within a few minutes the suite began to look like Mission Control in Houston.
“I have to stay here and coordinate things,” Buss said. He lowered his voice. “Those are Bureau guys. Probably pretty capable, but I want to stick around to make sure they don’t screw things up. More Feebies and the Langley guys are already at Churchill Downs.” He looked at his watch. “The Derby doesn’t go off until 6:18 PM. That gives you all afternoon to see what you can find out. With Rebecca down, you’re it, as far as our little unit is concerned, Cole.”
“Where are Bill and Stan?” Sudden asked, referring to the other two operatives who, along with Rebecca and himself, represented the sharp end of the B.U.R.Y. spear.
“Bolivia, with some Rangers; survival training” Buss liked the members of his team to occasionally rough it. “Limited contact with the outside world. Probably wouldn’t get back here in time, anyway. And they might prove more useful, later, if things go south here.”
Sudden smiled.
“Glad to know I’m expendable.”
“You know what I mean. I’m in the same boat as you. Besides, you started all this.”
Sudden laughed. He got up and headed toward the door.
“Want me to place any bets for you while I’m at the track?”
“Hell, you’re the long shot. That’s the ticket I want to cash. Take that State Trooper downstairs with you. Sharp guy. He can probably help you get anywhere in Churchill Downs you want. And make sure you stop by the drone truck.”
“Drone truck?”
“Yeah. The Kentucky State Cops have gone high-tech. They have a drone they use for surveillance and it is scanning the Derby crowd as we speak. They see anything suspicious they will jump on it and notify us here as well. Check in with them. If you spot anything and want them to do a fly by, call them.”
Buss paused.
“Good luck, Cole.”
CHAPTER 27 - DRONES
When Sudden got into the State Trooper cruiser, the driver handed him two brochures. One was a history of Churchill Downs and the other that day’s racing program.
“They will help give you the lay of the land,” the officer said.
Sudden thanked the cop and began reading as the car pulled away. The brochure was put out by the racetrack itself.
“The Churchill Downs racing complex occupies 147 acres of land and is three miles from downtown Louisville. While the world-famous Twin Spires atop the grandstands, designed by architect Joseph Dominic Baldez and built in 1895, remain the most recognizable feature, the historic grandstand and clubhouse have been greatly expanded and renovated since the inaugural racing meet in 1875. In addition to private luxury suites, and simulcast areas, the Big Board, as the track tote board is affectionately called, incorporates the world’s largest video screen.”
There was a lot more, but Sudden was not interested. He assumed Churchill Downs was like many large racetracks he’d been to, with stables, concessions, betting windows, and small humans pushing thousand-pound animals to breakneck speeds around an oval course. Excitement, despair, the occasional tragedy of a real broken neck or leg, equine and human. Of course, it was Kentucky Derby Day. There would be many more people, and the potential for a tragedy of historic proportions.
Sudden put down the track brochure and scanned the racing program. The Kentucky Derby was the 12th race on the card, a mile and a quarter test, with a guaranteed total purse of $2 million, with $1.3 million going to the winner. Ominously, American Jeddah had Post Position 13 in a 20-horse field. Ominous to Sudden, but not the racing experts. According to the program, thoroughbreds that left the starting gate at Post Position 13 won the Derby a respectable six percent of the time and finished in the money an even more respectable 24 percent of the time. Apparently horses weren’t superstitious. Besides, the Derby was a notorious cavalry charge in its first quarter of a mile and posts at the middle of the starting gate were the most advantageous, since they prevented horses from being boxed in at the rail or thrown too far outside before the first turn.
Further in the program there were biographical notes about the owners. Sudden learned that Ghani Nazari named his horse after Jeddah, a British Thoroughbred who ran only nine times from 1897 to 1899, winning three races. But that Jeddah was the first horse to win the Epsom Derby at odds of 100/1, and followed up by winning the Prince of Wales's Stakes at Royal Ascot. Ghani Nazari and the racing public had much higher hopes for American Jeddah, who was listed as the prohibitive morning-line favorite at odds of 3/1.
The traffic on the way to Churchill Downs was thick, but that did not faze the State Trooper. A judicious use of horn, lights and siren shortened the trip to 10 minutes. Sudden was not worried about alerting Kaddour. On Derby Day, there were a lot of sirens.
They pulled into a special lot that had been cordoned off and set aside for the media and various security organizations. There were dozens of vans, buses and mobile command centers, most spouting aerials and antennas. Sudden’s vehicle sidled up to a large black van and he and the trooper went inside. The only light inside the van came from the computer screens and monitors, but there were so many of them that Sudden had no trouble seeing. He introduced himself to the man in charge, F.B.I. Special Agent David Park. They shook hands.
The agent turned to his subordinates.
“Listen up, people,” he said. “Everyone take a good look at this guy.” He gestured at Sudden. “He’ll be roaming around inside the track.”
The men and women at the consoles all looked at Sudden.
“Sorry, no autographs,” he said.
That did not even get a smile, and they all quickly got back to work.
“Nothing personal, Sudden,” Park said. “They will be scanning for anyone acting suspiciously. I don’t want them launching a drone strike on you.” He saw the look on Sudden’s face. “Only kidding. I wish we had that capability. Our drone is armed only with a high-resolution camera. It will make passes over the crowd and send the pix back to us. When added to our own and the track’s surveillance cameras we should have pretty good coverage.”
“I’m surprised the racing authority lets you use a drone,” Sudden said. “And I thought there were F.A.A. restrictions about flying over large crowds.”
“The F.A.A. is on board. As for the track folks, it was an easy sell. Turns out they are petitioning the F.A.A. about eventually using drones during races to follow the horses around the course from above. We told them that, of course, we are worried about security but would be glad to follow a race for them to use in their argument. We already did an early race, so we’re covered. It actually is a pretty cool way to see a race. By the way, that’s the story we’re giving out to the media.”
“Not bad,” Sudden said. “Where is your drone controlled from?”
“Right there,” Park said, pointing to a man working what looked to be a video game controller.
“Can I see?”
“Sure.”
Sudden leaned over the man controlling the drone.
“What would you like to view?”
“The area in the grandstand where the owners of the horses running in the Derby will be seated. Can you do that, at an angle?”
“No problem. The camera we have mounted does not have to be overhead. It swivels, and I can tilt the drone a bit, as well. Give me a moment. The drone is over the infield now.”
“Take your time. I wouldn’t mind seeing the infield.”
Sudden knew that the Churchill Downs infield, bordered by the racetrack itself, was opened to the public on Derby Day. It would contain almost three-quarters of the 150,000 people in the complex and thus was an inviting target for a terrorist.
As Sudden watched the feed, the camera panned over the infield and he could see that the partying, Louisville’s version of Mardi Gras, was well advanced. Amid the many tents and tables, thousands of people, many fueled by mint juleps and other alcoholic drinks, were having a wonderful time, oblivious to the possible danger of a terrorist attack.
“Jesus,” the agent with controller said, as the drone camera spotted a naked woman hopping across the tops of a line of Porta-Potties as revelers threw beer bottles at her. “This is the nutty section, where the drunks mostly hang out. Been here all day. See all those guys lying down with the red skin? Sunburn after they passed out.”
“What’s under that big canopy?”
“That’s the betting tent. But I’d guess that half the people in the infield won’t even know there are races going on. For 50 bucks they get admission to a great party that they can tell their kids about. If they remember it when they sober up.”
I hope they are alive to remember it, Sudden thought.
The drone’s camera then began to capture more staid celebrations. Lots of women in pretty dresses and floppy hats, and men in white sports coats.
“This is what we call the ‘family or PG section,” the agent said. “Some of the dresses are pretty short, though.”
“We’re not looking for dresses,” Park growled. “Show him the paddock area.”
“Sorry, sir. Yes, sir.”
Sudden winked at the controller and smiled. The drone crossed the track. A minute later the paddock came into view. It was a large, open area filled with well-dressed people. But the colorful crowd was much smaller. Sudden had seen the paddock when he’d watched the Derby on TV. The horses would be paraded from stalls on their way to the track. He decided that there were better targets.
The next stop for the drone was the Grandstand, which was packed on all three of its levels. More colorful dresses, gaudy hats and, on the men, what looked to Sudden to be all the seersucker on the planet.
“Where will the owners of Derby horses sit?” Sudden asked.
“The third-floor numbered boxes, sections 316 to 318, which are closest to the finish line. See, right in there. Most of them have not arrived yet. They are probably in the paddock with their horses.”
“Do you know where the Nazari box is, specifically?”
The technician adjusted the camera and zoomed in.
“Right there. Section 317.”
Sudden patted the technician on the shoulder.
“Thanks.” He turned to Park. “I’m going in.”
“I know you are carrying a piece,” Park said. “Be careful. Place is crawling with agents and undercover cops. Keep your Trooper close or you are gonna get stopped repeatedly.”
“How much do you know about all this?”
“We haven’t been given the whole package. Just that it’s some sort of biological thing, like anthrax. We’ve been told that if a target is identified he’s to be taken down without worrying about the proverbial innocent bystanders. Never got an order like that. There are more than 150,000 people here.”
They exchanged cell numbers and shook hands.
“If you see something suspicious,” the agent said, “call us here in the van and we will have the drone do a fly-by to check it out. Good luck.”
Outside the van, Sudden turned to the State Trooper.
“What’s the ‘J.’ stand for?”
“John. But everyone calls me Jack.”
“Well, Jack, you heard what the man in the van said. Stick to me like glue and make sure nobody on our side shoots me. I’ll take my chances with the bad guys.”
“Roger, that. Let’s walk from here. It will be just as quick.”
CHAPTER 28 - TWO MINUTES
The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home,
Tis summer, the people are gay;
The corn-top's ripe and the meadow's in the bloom
While the birds make music all the day.
As the 20 horses in the field made their way onto the historic track , tens of thousands of spectators were singing along with the United States Naval Academy Choir’s rendition of the famous ballad that traditionally opened the Kentucky Derby. Unlike the men and women in the choir, resplendent in their white uniforms, many of the fans did not know the words and had their eyes fixed on the Big Board Jumbotron where the lyrics were being scrolled.
Sudden was not singing. He and Ramirez, and dozens of agents and undercover cops, had spent hours roaming the track and infield looking for anything out of the ordinary. Now, close to the start of the Kentucky Derby, his eyes were riveted on Section 317, where he could clearly see Ghani Nazari, the owner of American Jeddah, and his entourage. Everyone in the Nazari party seemed to be having a good time, including the darkly handsome Kaddour Nazari, who was standing next to his father, smiling broadly and singing lustily. His arm was around the shoulder of the gorgeous blond in a bright pink dress, the “arm candy” that Nigel Buss had mentioned.
Perhaps I have it wrong, Sudden thought. Maybe the Derby is not the target, but just an elaborate diversion. For all I know, the virus is in a car heading to Washington It’s probably parked on Pennsylvania Avenue, near the White House!
The young folks roll on the little cabin floor
All merry, all happy and bright;
By 'n by hard times comes a knocking at the door
Then my old Kentucky home, Good-night!
Almost all the horses were on the track. It was a beautiful spring day, with temperatures hovering near 75. Attendance would surely set a record. Sudden chanced a quick glance at No. 13, American Jeddah, a magnificent-looking thoroughbred who seemed to revel in the singing and the cheers. But his eyes almost immediately shot back to the Nazari box.
