Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (5 page)

"Ever heard of the Money Laundering Control Act of 1986?" Aaron said.

Pearce stiffened. "I've done nothing wrong."

"Really? The money was deposited in your personal bank account. Does your firm know about this mysterious client? Was a formal agreement for legal representation ever signed? What would happen if I told your partners about these secret bonus payments?"

"Well, uh." Pearce cleared his throat and shifted his position. "You still can't prove I broke a law."

"Let me make myself clear. You'll tell what you know, or I'll hit you so hard your children will feel the pain."

Pearce raised his chin. "You can't threaten me like that! I have rights."

Aaron walked around the desk and pressed the barrel of his gun against Pearce's cheek. "You can't imagine how little I care about your rights," Aaron growled.

The two men stared at each other for a moment.

Pearce blinked first. "You're not really an FBI agent."

"That's not important." Aaron faced the nearest window. "Chicago looks amazing from up here. If you keep wasting my time, you'll get to see the view from outside the window... and all the way down."

Pearce became pale. In a frightened tone he told Norbert, "Look for the White Flame Technology file. It's in the middle cabinet."

Norbert located the thick file and gave it to Aaron.

Aaron dumped out the contents onto the glass desktop. He pawed through the paperwork, but it was written in dense legal terminology and he couldn't make much sense of it. He noticed the phrase "Freedom of Information Act" was used many times.

"What's all this?" Aaron said.

"I've been suing White Flame Technology for the last four months. There are several pending cases."

"Suing them for what?"

"To get information," Pearce said. "The client wants to know what projects the company is working on, and whether any civilians are in danger. If White Flame is engaged in hazardous research, the public has a right to be informed."

"You're gathering intelligence?"

"That's one way of putting it."

"Have you learned anything?" Aaron said.

"No. I've tried every legal tactic, but those damned White Flame lawyers are experts at finding ways to postpone court dates. They send me thousand page documents that contain no real information. We keep having meetings about whether we should have more meetings. But as long as the client keeps paying me, I'll keep fighting."

Aaron stepped away. He stared out the window and saw a tour boat puttering along the Chicago River. From up here it looked like a toy.

"Tell me about the client."

"I wish I could," Pearce said. "All communication is anonymous. The payments come from overseas bank accounts. I don't know anything about him, except he always pays up front."

"The money is dirty."

Pearce was silent for a moment. "I didn't know."

Aaron gave him a serious look. "You seem like a good man, so I'm going to give you some very valuable advice. Walk away from this case and stop harassing White Flame. If you continue, you'll die. This statement comes from a man who knows a
lot
about killing."

Pearce gulped.

"We're leaving now. Swallow this." Aaron took a white pill from his pocket and placed it on the desk. "You'll sleep for an hour or so, long enough for us to get away. I can't let you call the police as soon as we step out of your office."

Pearce stared at the pill. "Is it safe?"

"Safer and less painful than me knocking you out the hard way." Aaron cracked his knuckles.

Pearce took the pill and washed it down with some coffee.

Aaron waited. After about thirty seconds Pearce slumped forward onto his desk. Aaron checked his pulse to make sure he was really unconscious.

"Let's go," Aaron told Norbert.

* * *

Aaron drove up to the red, brick building that currently served as his headquarters. Except for a double garage door in front, there were no visible openings. All the windows and other doors had been replaced with bricks to form a solid, almost smooth wall. A double layer of cinder blocks filled with reinforced concrete stood behind the bricks. Finally, there was a half-inch of steel plate on the inside. Many tons of steel had been welded to create internal armor that shielded the entire building. The place was literally a fortress.

However, the roof was still a major security weakness, and Aaron wasn't sure how to deal with that fact. Hiring a contractor to replace the entire roof wasn't possible since the workers would see inside of headquarters. Using just his small team would make the job take months. The simplest approach seemed to be slapping layers of armor on top of the existing roof, but that plan would require an engineering analysis to make sure it didn't collapse. Of course all this effort would be wasted when the team moved to a permanent facility.

Aaron stopped at the garage door. He stuck his head out the window and waved to a hidden camera. A moment later the garage door rolled up, and he drove inside.

He stopped again at an internal barrier made of thick Plexiglas panels bolted to steel girders. The garage door descended, trapping Aaron and Norbert in between. There was no way to proceed without inside help.

Jack emerged from a door on the other side of the transparent barrier. Fluorescent light reflected from his bald head. He wore a plaid shirt with sweat stains under the armpits, a consequence of the uncomfortable warmth inside of headquarters. Cowboy boots and an old fashioned revolver on his hip made him look like a gun slinger from the Old West. His sharp, blue eyes studied Aaron and Norbert.

"Hello, sir," Jack said.

Aaron nodded. "Hello."

Jack was head of security. Part of his job was making sure imposters didn't sneak into headquarters. They would talk until he was convinced Aaron and Norbert were legitimate. Meanwhile, scanners embedded in the floor would check the car for bugs.

"How was your trip, sir?"

"Very interesting," Aaron said. "We may have a mission on our hands. How was life with Marina in command?"

"She was a bit grouchy, sir, but we always expect that from her."

"Next time I'll stay and she can go. That should make everybody happier."

"Yes, sir," Jack said with some enthusiasm. "Norbert, sir, did you enjoy the trip?"

"It was educational," Norbert said. "Of course I didn't do much. I mostly observed the master at work." He nodded towards Aaron.

"I imagine he tested you."

"I had a very rude wakeup call this morning, but it was for my own good. I need to learn how to sleep with one eye open."

"Come by a little later, and I'll tell you some of the tricks I picked up over the years," Jack said. "I sleep with both eyes open."

He pressed a button on a gray box attached to his belt. Hydraulic pistons lifted part of the barrier, and Aaron drove through the gap. As soon as he was clear, the barrier descended. He and Norbert stepped out of the air-conditioned car into still, hot air.

"I'm having a meeting in my office," Aaron told Jack. "I need Marina and Smythe to join us."

"Yes, sir." Jack went back into his security control room. A moment later his voice boomed through overhead speakers. "Marina and Smythe, please meet Aaron in his office. Thank you."

Aaron and Norbert climbed the creaking wooden staircase to the second floor office. Aaron sat on his chair and sighed. It had been a long drive, and he needed some vigorous exercise to get his blood flowing again. However, his management responsibilities came first.

Marina arrived. She wore a green blouse that matched her eyes. A short, black skirt showed off her long, muscular legs. A pistol and two knives decorated a black belt. Some women wore earrings, but she preferred deadly weapons.

She walked around the desk and kissed Aaron on the lips. "Miss me?" she said sweetly. Light freckles on her nose made her look mischievous.

"Very much." He smiled at her. "Spending the night with Norbert wasn't as satisfying."

Norbert blushed furiously.

Smythe walked in wearing a damp gray T-shirt and sweatpants. Drops of sweat dotted his flushed forehead.

"Sir!" He nodded firmly as he entered the room.

Aaron decided installing the biggest possible air conditioning unit would be the next upgrade for headquarters. A new roof could wait.

"That's everybody except for Wendy," he said.

"Who is Wendy?" Marina said.

"A banker who works for the Manhattan cell. This case is as much hers as mine."

Aaron dialed Wendy's number, pressed the speaker button on his phone, and placed it on the desk so everybody could hear.

"Hello?" Wendy said.

"This is Aaron. All of my
legionnaires
are here. I'll give my report, and then we'll decide what to do next."

Aaron described the trip to Lemonseed in crisp detail. When he was done telling the tale, he said, "So, we're not looking for an ordinary thief or hacker. The man who stole our money needed it to finance an investigation into White Flame Technology. He must believe the company is doing something very nasty."

"I like his methods," Marina said. "Combining espionage with legal action is very creative."

He nodded. "And he's just half the story. We also need to figure out why people are committing suicide in Lemonseed, and why White Flame is taking notes."

"White Flame Technology is a world renowned death merchant," Smythe said. "They produce some of the most sophisticated weapons known to man. If we want to find bad guys, that place is a gold mine."

"Let's focus on the hacker first," Aaron said. "In a strange way, he's our ally. We can use the information he already gathered to jump-start our own investigation into White Flame. We just need to find him."

"And convince him to cooperate," Marina said.

"Does anybody have a suggestion?"

There was silence in the room.

Norbert spoke in a soft voice, "This extraordinary hacker is on a quest for the truth. He's just a guppy battling a shark, but he doesn't care. His intense feelings suggest he lives close to his enemy, maybe even in Lemonseed."

"That gives me an idea," Wendy said. "This guy probably has the best internet connection money can buy, if not better. I'll get a list of all broadband customers in that area who match the profile of an extreme geek. It should be a short list. Most of the people are farmers."

"Yes," Aaron said, "and I'll send my team to check out the addresses you provide. Does anybody have anything to add?"

Nobody spoke.

"Then the meeting is adjourned. Thank you." Aaron closed his phone.

Smythe and Norbert left the office.

Marina came around the desk. She wrapped her arms around Aaron's neck and gave him a passionate kiss. He grabbed her narrow waist.

"Ugh," he said. "You're sweaty and sticky."

She nodded. "It's like a sauna in here. The sun heats up the roof and there is hardly any ventilation."

"Yeah. Air conditioning is a priority."

"Nancy is already looking into it. She'll have a proposal ready by tomorrow. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Exercise," he said. "The long drive made my muscles stiff."

She rubbed his shoulders. "And very tense. What's wrong?"

"I'm feeling a lot of pressure. This case is my first real test as the new commander. I really don't want to screw it up."

"I know a good way to loosen up and relax." Her hand drifted down to his chest.

He put his hand over hers. "Our bedroom will be hot."

"If you exercise, you'll get sweaty anyway. Might as well have fun doing it."

"Good point."

He gently pushed her away. They went downstairs and walked to the east end of the building. The rest of the staff had their own apartments elsewhere in Chicago, but Aaron and Marina had a private suite on the premises.

They entered their quarters. A king-sized bed with an extra thick, pillow top mattress was the only luxury item in the room. A line of wardrobes and dressers made of plain wood stood on the left, and racks held more clothes on the right. Aaron and Marina had hundreds of outfits between them, one for every possible undercover assignment.

Their private armory was in the back corner. They kept their favorite weapons here, the ones they didn't share with the others. A tall glass case held Marina's exotic knife collection, which included antique daggers from all corners of the world. One blade was encrusted with rubies, and an African sultan had possessed it during the eighteenth century. She also had the knife worn by Georgy Zhukov, a famous Russian general.

Marina walked straight to the bed and began stripping off her clothes. She seemed eager to get started. "How did Norbert do on his field trip?"

"Not bad," Aaron said, "but not great, either."

He took off his FBI costume and threw it into a basket in the corner. The basket was already full of dirty laundry. There was no maid service in headquarters, so everybody washed their own clothes, even Aaron. He could've ordered somebody else to do it, but he didn't want his team to feel like they were just his servants.