Rogue Commander, page 10
part #3 of Titus Black Series
The two agents nodded.
“Great,” Blunt said as he slapped the table and stood. “Report to the FBI offices downtown at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. If you want to work on this some more in the morning, that’s fine. But don’t be late.”
Black waited until Blunt left the room before speaking. “I don’t like this.”
“Me either,” Shields said. “We’re starting to put the pieces together. Meanwhile, people out there are dying.”
“No, I’m talking about this detail,” Black said. “Those rulers rarely set foot on U.S. soil.”
“What’s your point?”
“I don’t know, but this whole thing makes me uneasy, not for myself but for how volatile this could potentially be if something goes wrong.”
“That’s why you’re going to make sure nothing does,” Shields said with a wink.
CHAPTER 16
Washington, D.C.
EDDIE RILEY SAT DOWN at a table in the corner of the Pug Bar and stared at the eclectic collection of pictures hung on the wall. Images of famous athletes—though none of them were signed—were interspersed with random memorabilia such as campaign posters, license plates, and a perfect attendance certificate for some kid named Buck Ragan. Riley ordered a beer and kept his head down as he waited for his contact to arrive.
A furtive glance around the room confirmed that nobody had even noticed Riley, just how he liked it. In fact, such skill was required to become a part of a secret team of assassins known as Leviathan. After he retired from the Army, he never imagined he’d be invited to participate in an elite group of trained operatives. Long tours in the desert of Afghanistan had grown tiresome, and he wanted a steady job at home, one that didn’t demand he be gone nine months out of the year. HIs experiment as the manager of the lumber department at a home improvement store lasted just over six months before he wanted to get back into action. And while long tours still didn’t appeal to him, utilizing his skills as a member of the Army Rangers did.
Riley picked up an abandoned copy of The Washington Post and perused an article about unrest in the Middle East and one anonymous official discussing the possibility of sending more troops into the region. As he was reading, a man sat down across the table from Riley.
“That region will always be unstable,” the man said, tapping the newspaper. “I swear they’ll be fighting the same battles the day I die as they are right now.”
Riley eyed the man closely, unsure if this was his contact. “Have you ever been to Vermont?”
“Greenest mountains on the planet,” the man replied, repeating the pass phrase that let Riley know this wasn’t a random stranger.
“Do you have my next assignment?” Riley asked. “I was disturbed when I heard that Lebedev was killed.”
“Better him than you, right?”
Riley shrugged. “I don’t know. Depends on if he was actually the target or not. Either way, there’s a chink in the armor.”
“Well, I’ve got something a little closer to home for you,” the man said, handing a folder to Riley.
He studied the documents for a moment and scowled. “What’s this? Part of my agreement was to never get assignments on U.S. soil.”
“If you don’t want it, we’ll give it to someone else—and it’ll be the last job you ever work. And losing your income isn’t exactly something that will help your legal case, will it?”
Riley sipped his beer before responding. “Not that it’ll matter much. You don’t know my wife’s family.”
“Actually, I’m all too aware of them, and I sympathize with your plight. But this isn’t really an option if you want to continue with us. So, are you in or out?”
Riley sighed and stuffed the material into his backpack. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. And let’s go Nats!”
The man exited the bar, but Riley waited until he’d finished his drink before leaving as well. He had an important stop he needed to make before getting started on his new assignment.
* * *
RILEY TAPPED THE STEERING wheel to the beat of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA”, joining in on the chorus. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair as he took a minute to appreciate the Virginia woods surrounding him. The trip north on State Highway 7 provided Riley with the break he needed. No missions to think about. No future to ponder. Just a respite where he could be in the moment.
When Riley reached the Winchester city limits, he slowed down, pulling his hat a little lower over his shaved head. The cap itched his scalp as did the new growth sprouting on the surface. Keeping his dome smooth was one of the things he hated the most about his job, but given the number of times he needed to wear wigs to slip in and out of places, regular grooming was imperative. But even with his ability to transform into someone else, he didn’t want anyone in the city of Winchester thinking for even a second that they’d seen him.
Riley maintained the posted speed limit of twenty-five miles per hour as he eased past Overlook Park. He wanted to slow to a crawl, which would’ve made it much easier for him to get a better look at Lilly, his four-year-old daughter, who he hadn’t been able to visit in nearly three years.
Lilly had graduated to the big girl swings, no longer confined to the contraption designed for young toddlers. She giggled as she kicked her feet, an attempt to mimic the older girl next to her who was pumping her legs. Lilly’s efforts were in vain, though she didn’t notice since she’d enlisted her mother to power the moment.
Despite the joy on Lilly’s face, Riley couldn’t help but look at the scene and feel a range of bitter-sweet emotions. Lilly was an innocent angel, the joy of his life. Her mother, Alicia, however, made some of the hardened men he’d run across working for Leviathan seem like big-hearted teddy bears in comparison.
Alicia didn’t have any compassion for the post-traumatic syndrome Riley suffered upon his return from the desert, poisoning his support group against him. Spreading lies about him drinking uncontrollably that led to domestic violence and ostracizing him when he needed community the most. He needed time and love, and he got neither from a woman who’d grown accustomed to the single life his tours provided her. When he tried to re-engage with her in their relationship, she opted for a zero sum game, using Lilly as the prize.
Riley wiped away a tear streaking down his cheek as he watched Lilly laugh, her golden-blonde hair shimmering in the sunshine. Then he looked away, unable to bear the pain of seeing her any more. Easing onto the gas, he headed back toward Washington.
He had a job that needed to be done.
CHAPTER 17
Washington, D.C.
THE NEXT MORNING, Black arrived at FBI Headquarters downtown and shook hands with all the agents participating in the escort from the airport to the meeting location. He introduced himself as Agent Black, avoiding use of his first name and hoping it’d be enough to keep word from leaking back to President Michaels that he was still alive. In normal circumstances, the event would draw plenty of reporters and onlookers hoping to get a glimpse of the rulers. And the protocol for transport would be standard security. But this visit was unprecedented, an emergency session requested by kings and emirs who felt helpless to stop the killing spree being wrought against their countries and families.
Black couldn’t help but feel as if he was getting a chilly reception from the other men, who all stood in a line, hands clasped in front of them, sunglasses preventing him from confirming his hunch. But it didn’t take long for one man to let Black know that he wasn’t welcome.
“Agent Muncie,” one of the man said as he nodded at Black. “So, the CIA feels like someone needs to hold our hand?”
The comment drew a few chuckles from the other men.
“Look, I get it,” Black said. “You don’t like the fact that someone inserted me into this assignment, sticking my nose in the middle of your little club here. Well, I can assure you that I dislike it as much as you do. But you can also be assured that I’ll do a damn fine job. If you have any problems, say it to my face.”
“I suggest you keep your mouth shut and let the professionals handle this,” an agent named Rodgers said. “Just because you can shoot a man in the head from a thousand yards away doesn’t mean you know jack about protecting someone in a situation like this. Got it?”
Black wanted to deck Rodgers but refrained. In an effort to defuse the tense standoff, Black slipped his hands in his pockets, making him have to think a half second longer if he changed his mind and decided to coldcock the smart aleck with the toothy grin. If truth be told, Black thought they all looked alike, veritable clones in their dark suits, sunglasses, and curly wires protruding from their ears. He could knock out Rodgers, but any of them would suffice when it came to feeling good about striking back.
But Black resisted his urges and nodded knowingly.
Several minutes later, an older man joined them and wasted no time in barking orders, assigning agents to different automobiles.
“Muncie, Rodgers, you’re with the new guy here,” the old man said. “You’ll be driving around the Kuwaiti emir, Abdul Al-Sabah. The other vehicles in front of you will be carrying the Saudi king as well as the Qatari emir.”
The men scattered toward their vehicles. Black opened the back passenger side door when he heard the old guy issue one last command.
“Whatever you do, Rodgers, don’t screw this up,” he said. “The president is personally invested in this, so ensure that everything is smooth.”
“10-4,” Rodgers said.
Black slid across the bench when the far door swung open.
“Out,” Rodgers said. “You’re in the front. Muncie and I will sit back here for the duration of the trip to the pickup point and consider the appropriate way to handle any possible situation.”
“Isn’t that pretty simple based on what the old man told you?” Black asked. “Keep the Kuwaiti emir safe at all costs.”
“If that’s all you heard, I feel sorry for whoever has to give you orders,” Rodger said. “Now, dislodge that ball of wax blocking your ability to listen to proper commands and listen to this one: You keep your mouth shut, and we’ll handle everything. Is that clear?”
Black nodded, shying away from provoking a fight, though he wanted to rumble badly.
“Impressive,” Shields said. “I would’ve knocked that asshole out by now.”
Black smiled but didn’t say anything, flashing a quick glance at Rodgers, who just sneered back.
Black remained silent for the rest of the drive as did Shields until they rolled up on the tarmac outside the group of hangars where the envoy’s private planes were being housed.
As they pulled up, the Saudi king was stepping outside. A trio of U.S. State Department officials greeted him, waiting for all the rulers to ascend before going anywhere. Once the Qatari and Kuwaiti emirs emerged, they were ushered over to their assigned FBI escort vehicle. Al-Sabah grinned as he locked eyes with Black. The Kuwaiti leader greeted Black with a customary hug and kiss on each side of the cheek.
“Seeing someone who I know cares about me does my soul good,” Al-Sabah said.
“How are you?” Black asked. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
“That means a lot to me,” Al-Sabah said as he eased into the back seat. “Thank you for telling me that. And to be completely frank, life isn’t easy right now. I really hope that we’ll be able to work with your country’s intelligence to stop whoever is doing this in our region so that no one else has to experience such pain again.”
“I can assure you that some of our best people have already been assigned to stopping this killer,” Black said.
Al-Sabah toppled to his right, leaning into Muncie, who’d been quiet while the emir spoke.
“Oh,” Al-Sabah said. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Black wanted to remain stoic, but he couldn’t help but smile at the emir, who was anything but traditional in the way he led and the way he viewed life. Black couldn’t help but admire the man’s positive attitude in the face of such tragedy.
They crossed the Potomac River before navigating down several surface streets. After a couple minutes, the emir broke the silence in the vehicle.
“Is Washington always under construction?” he asked.
Rodgers shook his head. “Traffic is a constant headache around here. And usually we would be at The White House by now, but since this meeting is unannounced, we don’t want to draw any undue attention. We’re going to a secret underground location near the Smithsonian.”
“I’ve heard rumors of such a place existing beneath the Lincoln Memorial,” the emir said. “Is that where we’re going?”
“I’m afraid I can’t even say it out loud,” Rodgers said.
Their SUV lurched as the driver whipped the wheel to the right, following the team down a smaller two-lane road barely big enough for one cars. As they were heading west along the street, a large box van backed out into their path, halting the flow.
Black peered over his shoulder and saw that the vehicle in front of them and the one behind had both stopped.
“I don’t like this,” Black said as he looked at the driver. “Just get us out of here, okay?”
The driver nodded and rolled his window down. He notified the others what he was doing over their coms. However, before they could move, a van roared up behind them. Gunmen scattered out of the side door and started firing.
“Shields, can you tell us anything?” Black asked. “What are you seeing?”
She didn’t reply.
Rodgers cursed before picking up a walkie talkie. “We’re under fire,” he said. “I repeat, we’re under fire on the southeast corner of D and 9th street. Requesting immediate backup.”
“I’ll keep the emir with me,” Black said.
“Like hell you will,” Rodgers said. “You get out there and pick off the hostiles. I’ll stay with the emir.”
Black sighed and shook his head but didn’t feel like he had any time to fight about who should do what. He pushed open the door, which was immediately peppered by several rounds. He waited until the gunfire stopped before he leaned out and popped off a couple shots. In a matter of seconds, bullets were pinging off every wall on the surrounding residential buildings and bouncing off the SUV’s glass.
He took another moment to get his bearings and assess the situation.
“What the hell are you doing, Black?” Rodgers roared as he covered the emir, who’d crouched low in the backseat. “Get out there.”
Once Black was confident where the hostiles were, he jumped out of the vehicle and took aim at the space behind them. About forty yards away, an armored van was parked horizontally, sealing off the street. Two men positioned at the front and back of the van were trying to lay waste to the trio of SUVs. Black dropped low and took his time, squeezing off a couple shots at one of the attacker’s ankles. When Black’s second attempt sent the man sprawling to the ground, Black drilled him in the head.
Just as Black thought he had a chance to regain control of the situation, more hostiles opened fire, this time from the rooftops. Not only was the FBI escort sealed in, but it had driven straight into a kill box.
Black poked his head inside the car. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold them off. One hostile is down, but now there are more on the roofs around us.”
Muncie dove into the car, his chest covered in blood as he gasped for air.
“Muncie, where are you hit?” Rodgers asked.
Muncie mumbled something before going limp.
“Dammit,” Rodgers said. “How many of our guys are still standing?”
“I think I only saw one other agent go down,” Black said. “I’ll do my best to hold them at bay until backup arrives.”
“We may not have that kind of time,” Rodgers said.
“I can do this,” Black said. “Just stay with the emir and keep him safe. We can’t lose him no matter what.”
“Good luck,” Rodgers said.
Black darted into the street and then rolled onto the ground. He took refuge near the front steps leading up to one of the townhomes. Using the concrete as a barrier, he identified two more shooters on the opposite rooftops. He hit one of them, knocking him backward, which sent the other man seeking more cover to shoot from.
A few seconds later, Black heard a gunshot coming from just behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Rodgers.
“I think I got that sonofabitch,” Rodgers said.
“Why aren’t you with the emir?” Black said. “Your primary job is to protect him.”
“What good am I protecting him if we’re all going to be dead in a matter of minutes anyway? You clearly need my help.”
Black turned around and drilled another man shooting from the rooftop on the nearside of the street. He screamed as he toppled over the edge. His body hit the sidewalk with a thud.
Then Black glanced toward the vehicle. The passenger side door was open. Suddenly the shooting stopped; the only noise echoing on the street was that of tires screeching as the armored van peeled away.
“Where’s the emir?” Black asked again.
Rodgers rushed over to the SUV and started cursing.
“He’s gone.”
Black set his jaw and glared at Rodgers. “This is on you—as well as the idiot who selected this route. Speaking of which, where’s the driver?”
He was gone—along with Al-Sabah.
CHAPTER 18
Washington, D.C.
BLUNT LOOKED UP from his mound of paperwork when Black entered the office. The Firestorm director jammed a cigar into his mouth and started chewing. Black had already been chewed out by the FBI chief for the security failure, suggesting that the operation failed due to Black’s actions.
“What the hell happened out there today?” Blunt asked before he stood to pace the room.
Black shook his head as he slumped into a chair across from Blunt’s desk. “Poor planning, sabotage. Take your pick. And we could blame it on a dozen other things as well. That was the perfect storm as far as secure escorts are concerned.”
