Overlord (20 page)

“Yes, Colonel Collins, I would say your little bald employer is indeed behind this.” Henri walked up to Jack and smiled as he slightly raised both hands. “I guess if you can’t get one bad guy, your boss thinks another will be just as good. At least enough to appease your president over this mess.” He gestured at the dead men around him.

“No, I’m afraid your own government wants to speak with you, Colonel,” Stimson said.

Henri deflated before their eyes when he realized his time on the run from his own government was now at an end. He took the gun from his pants and handed it to the agent. The look he gave Jack was not a pleasant one, and Collins knew trying to explain to Henri that he had nothing to do with his arrest would go by the wayside. Henri Farbeaux never forgot a slight and Collins knew he was back to square one with the Frenchman.

“Come, gentlemen, we have little time. We have to get you clear of this and cleared fast. Things are starting to go to hell in a handbasket across the globe. The president just placed the rapid deployment force in Kuwait on alert for action inside the borders of Iran.”

Jack was taken aback. “I didn’t know FBI field agents were briefed on presidential orders?”

“He didn’t brief me, Director Compton did. And he told me to tell you that the Azerbaijan field team is involved. I guess you’re supposed to know what that means.”

Jack’s face went slack, a reaction that both Carl and Henri noticed.

“What, Jack?” Carl asked.

“Sarah is on the field team in Azerbaijan.”

“Then we must obey your orders,” Henri said, becoming dead serious.

The men were led from Vickers’s apartment. It was Jack who remembered what they had come here for.

“Vickers could not have been working alone, you know that?” he asked no one in particular.

“I’m afraid the men he does work for are untouchable at the moment,” Stimson said. He led the men past his special agents as they rushed into the slaughterhouse that was once a beautiful condo inside Georgetown. “Call the forensics team and issue an all-points for Mr. Hiram Vickers. This is his place and his mess,” he said to the team inside.

“And why are the men in black untouchable?” Everett asked.

“Because priorities have shifted, gentlemen, from passive preparedness to a war footing. Dr. Compton said you would understand. He said to tell you, Operations Magic and Overlord are on. And that you picked one hell of a time to go rogue on him.”

Farbeaux didn’t know what either meant, but became concerned when he saw the countenance of Jack Collins go from worry to fear in a split second. “If you don’t mind telling me, what do those terms mean?”

Jack stopped before reaching the FBI sedan.

“It means, Henri, that the war we’ve been fearing is starting.”

COMMERCIAL LANDING FIELD

MASALLY, AZERBAIJAN

The three Russian-built troop transports, the Ilyushin IL-76 D “Desantnyis,” sat at the far edge of the northern-most runway. The security aspect of what was now known as Operation Zeus dictated the large force stay as far from the prying eyes of the Azerbaijani military forces as possible. From a distance the newest sets of eyes on the airstrip watched the activity of the Russian paratroopers as they made ready for their flight into Iran. It had taken close to three hours to get the Azerbaijani government’s permission to use Masally as a staging area. As it was, several large western newspapers and networks had gotten wind of the operation but were kept at bay at the main civil terminal far away.

The lone helicopter sat between the large troop transports. The pilot made ready for the flight into the Caspian Sea staging site. His passengers had just arrived and were being outfitted inside the three large tents they had set up.

Two miles away inside the run-down terminal, two Russian soldiers made their way through security and past the many prying eyes of the civilians waiting for their flights. The two officers, a man and a woman with very dark hair, turned sharply into the airline pilots’ ready room. The woman removed her cap and held a hand up, stilling the man as he stepped in behind her. She heard a shower running and a man somewhere inside the locker room whistling. She gestured for the man to take the whistler and she would address the shower situation. The man nodded, reached into his uniform jacket pocket, and removed a small syringe. He looked at the raven-haired woman one last time and she gave him a warning with her raised brows. He smiled and walked off.

The woman pulled a duplicate syringe from her own pocket and with one last glance at her male counterpart moved to the shower stalls that lined the back of the pilots’ ready room. She heard the shower turn off and the soft humming of a woman as she opened the stall door. The woman in the absconded Russian uniform moved quickly to jab the female shower taker in the arm, then held the woman’s head as she easily collapsed into her arms. She laid her gently on the tiled floor, then looked over at the man who had accompanied her as he dragged the whistler into the shower area.

“Place them in the janitor’s closet and seal the door. Someone should free them tomorrow morning when their cleaning shift arrives.”

“I don’t think that’s wise. This fellow”—the man lightly tapped the drugged man with his right foot—“got a good look at me before I stuck him.” The dark-haired woman removed the combat fatigues from the wall hook, held them up for sizing, and tilted her head, thinking the large fit would have to do. She finally spared the man a hard look.

“The last I heard, Israel wasn’t at war with Russia. We’re here to observe and report, that is all. If this weapon the Iranians have is meant for Israel, we have to know.”

“You’re the boss, Major, I just work here.”

Anya Korvesky looked at the man, then nodded at the captive at his feet. “Then by all means do your work and hide these two.” She looked at the wall clock. “And hurry, we’re on the clock.”

Anya was bone weary. The two Mossad agents had been airlifted twenty miles out from Masally and had to walk in from there. Now they had but five minutes to make the flight line to be in on the raid into Iran. She was there to confirm the suspicion that the weapon the Iranians were using was being directed at the State of Israel. If it was, the Russians would have one chance to destroy it, and if that failed it would be left in the hands of the Israeli Air Force, which was on standby just outside Tel Aviv.

Anya dressed quickly and looked around the locker room until she saw the briefcase. She opened it and made sure the two people they had replaced had all of their documentation and necessary credentials; they did. The man and woman the two agents replaced would have been the scientific advisors on nuclear energy and would be allowed on the raid to assist the American team flown in from a cruiser out in the Caspian Sea. Only it would be she and her partner who would be in on the combat jump into Iran instead of these two.

Dressed in their combat gear, they walked out of the pilots’ ready room and into the night.

The Mossad was jumping tonight with the elite of the Russian military.

*   *   *

Sarah nervously watched as the twin-rotor helicopter started up before them. She and Ryan were sitting on that cold tarmac next to a set of giant landing gear of one of the Ilyushin transports when the pilot of the helicopter waved them over for their flight to the Riga-class frigate
Leschenko
awaiting them in the Caspian Sea. They stood and both knew they were heading into a situation neither had expected.

“Right about now would be a good time for the colonel and Mr. Everett to make an appearance.” Ryan threw his bag over his shoulder and looked at Sarah.

“Yeah, it would be nice to have them along,” Sarah agreed as Ryan helped her to her feet.

“No, not to come along, but to replace us. I don’t know about you, but those Russian boys don’t look like they’re heading for a picnic.”

Sarah watched as the paratroopers of the elite Russian 106th Guards Division started loading onto the three transports that would take them into harm’s way.

“Strange how soldiers look the same all over the world, isn’t it?”

“It’s the look in their eyes,” Jason replied.

“Look?”

“Yeah.” He took Sarah by the elbow and started steering her toward the idling helicopter. “The look that says they would sure as hell rather be somewhere else.”

Sarah had to agree. She started forward when she accidentally bumped into a soldier making her way to the second Ilyushin in line. The two women locked eyes for the briefest of moments but it was enough to make Sarah stop in her tracks. Jason Ryan saw exactly what she had seen. Sarah managed to get her feet moving as Jason pushed her forward.

Anya Korvesky felt her heart sink when she saw who had bumped into her. She knew Sarah was going to say something and then that, as they say, would be that, and their little ruse would be over before they entered Iranian airspace. Both parties managed to separate without a word.

Sarah slowly turned her head just as Anya did. The two sets of eyes met again and then they both turned away.

“What in the hell is she doing here?” Sarah asked as Jason managed to get her moving again. “Where’s Carl?”

“I don’t know, McIntire, but if we draw attention to her we could damn well be responsible for getting the major shot, so move on and let’s forget we even saw her—at least until we can inform Group.”

Anya turned one last time. She had met the two Americans in Romania and knew them to be Carl’s best friends outside of Colonel Collins. She was grateful that Ryan and Sarah seemed to realize what would happen if Sarah had exposed her identity. With a sigh of relief Anya Korvesky adjusted her chute and equipment, then stepped onto the rear loading ramp of the Ilyushin just as it started to rise, closing out the sight of the small helicopter lifting off with Sarah and Jason.

As the ramps of the three transports closed, a large red flare shot into the sky, and then the first of the giant transports started to roll.

Operation Zeus was on the move.

5

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Hiram Vickers winced as the bullet was slowly pulled from his upper right calf. He hissed as the old doctor removed the insulting object from his body. He was lying on a gurney in a shabby office of a man he had only sent people to for injuries—never, ever his own.

“Aw, come on now,” the old doctor said in German-accented English. “It barely qualifies as a flesh wound. I’ve done worse to myself with a—”

“Shut the fuck up and keep your witticisms to yourself. Can I travel without too much discomfort?”

The doctor allowed the misshapen bullet to fall free of the clamp and Vickers heard the
ting
of the bullet as it hit the stainless steel bowl. He then placed a gauze bandage over the wound and started to tape it.

“As I said, it was nothing more than a flesh wound. It barely hit the muscle. If you can withstand a little discomfort I’m sure aspirin will cover it.”

Vickers eyed the man and was about to comment on the doctor’s opinion of his pain threshold when his cell phone chimed. He cursed when he saw the secure number displayed. He pushed the old doctor away and answered it.

“You son of a bitch, do you think this is going to stand?” he said angrily into the phone.

“You brought this down on yourself. You gave us no choice in deciding your fate, and you knew going in that if your dirty tricks and acquisitions department became public knowledge you would do what needed to be done. You didn’t do what was expected, so your retirement was determined to be essential. As I said, you brought it on yourself, and unless you have a plan that will make the president of the United States forgive and forget, some sort of leverage, you will be the most hunted man in the country. The FBI has already tagged you for the murder of four men at your apartment. Believe me, if I were you I would handle my retirement myself and not allow Jack Collins to do it for you. And you know that you can’t go and turn yourself in—we can get to you anywhere.”

“Listen to me, Mr. Peachtree, if you don’t help me get the hell out of here I will do something that will not only ensure that I hang, but you and several others will also.”

“You have nothing on either me or Speaker of the House Camden. You started the department and you are the one that went rogue on us and killed two American citizens, and agency people at that. No, I think the best way out for you and your family name is to do the retirement ceremonies yourself. Or your very own Black Teams will hunt you down and do the retirement in a most brutal manner—their way.”

“Listen to me, I will—”

Vickers cursed when he realized he was speaking into a severed connection. He closed the cell phone, then looked at the doctor, who was wiping his hands on a towel and looking his way.

“Find something funny in that?” he asked as he slowly slid from the table.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it’s not often that I treat a dead man. May I suggest you run for your life?” He smiled as he started to turn for the door.

Vickers angrily reached into his coat, pulled out the .32 automatic, and fired six times into the old doctor’s back. He limped over to the fallen man as he rolled over.

“Still find it funny?” he asked, and fired two more times into the upturned face.

Vickers turned and rummaged in the medicine cabinet until he found some pain medication, then quickly swallowed three pills. He reached out with his good leg and kicked the doctor’s head to remove the staring and blank eyes from him. He shook his head as he realized that the entire law enforcement community of the planet would be looking for him. He knew he needed leverage, the likes of which would sway the president into not proceeding with his retirement. He stepped around the murdered doctor and faced the far wall.

“I’ll bring you all down before this is over,” he said as he leaned his head against a large wall map of the United States. He knew he was a lost man as he took a deep breath and straightened. His eyes fell on the map and then they strayed to the western part of the United States. They centered on the southern portion of the multicolored map and he slowly started to smile, feeling better almost immediately with the sudden burst of inspiration. He stepped back and looked at the map and his smile grew. He knew he had found his get-out-of-jail-free card. His hand reached out and slapped the area he was staring at. He smiled at the streak of blood he left on the spot. He then turned away and left the dilapidated office building, exiting Washington for the last time.