“Yes, special agents Savas and Miller. These are our IDs. We’re en route from New York because of an apparent coordinated abduction connected to those here.”
A nervous officer stood several steps above them. “We have explicit instructions not to allow anyone except approved law enforcement officers into the building.”
“We are approved law enforcement officers!” growled Miller. “We’re here by request of the agency acting on orders from the fucking president! The little headsets you're wearing with mics — try them out and contact your damn superiors.”
Several weapons were pointed their way.
Miller was losing his temper, as he tended to do. A decorated former soldier, he had been shot twice saving Savas’ life in the line of duty as an FBI agent. He didn’t suffer fools well, and there wasn’t much that scared the man. Which is what frightened Savas.
“Okay, Frank, let’s just back off and wait for the red tape to unspool. There’s a lot of tension right now. We’re all on the same side.”
They returned to their car and waited out the next half hour. Evening began to fall, and the streets were a ghost town. The Capitol had been completely locked down.
The wall of police opened and a figure in a suit shuffled down the steps. Savas immediately recognized him — Tim Cox, Assistant Director in Charge, a lanky, bespectacled man and former Secret Service agent. The local branch had brought in the big guns on this scene. People were shook up.
“Agent Savas,” said Cox extending his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Your reputation precedes you of course, but you’re a long way from home.”
“Things are moving very fast, sir, and there hasn’t been time to coordinate investigations. But the murder of Goldman CEO Jack Craig may be tied in some fashion to Senator Heidi Moss.”
The Assistant Director squinted. “How so?”
“His last phone calls, minutes before his death, were to her. We paid her a visit and while nothing concrete came up, it was clear that she was under some sort of threat of some kind.”
“And you did not bring this to the attention of my office, because?”
Great. Miller glanced at him and Savas tried hard to ignore it. “It was a hunch, sir. And if not for the kidnappings of other CEOs and members of Congress today, it would have remained a completely unsubstantiated hunch. We can’t bother you with every possible idea.”
“Still, Savas, this is our turf. Let us decide what is worthy of our attention.”
“Point taken, Assistant Director.” Savas hoped they would be cooperative. “As you know, we have multiple events in New York, some still coming in as people are reported missing. I’m back here to begin coordinating with you on this seemingly related set of disappearances.”
Cox nodded. “It’s unprecedented. We have three missing Congressman, a high level official at the Securities and Exchange Commission, and just as of ten minutes ago, it seems that the head of the Federal Reserve did not get off her plane at Reagan National.”
“Louise Lelann?”
Cox sighed. “So now you see the magnitude of this. Homeland Security is descending like a storm cloud, as if they didn’t eat up enough of our departments already. We’re on lockdown, the president’s day has been scrambled. I’m not sure who knows where he is. It feels like a terrorist attack.”
“I think it is,” said Miller.
“Well, then you folks are the right ones for the job.”
“There’s no one claiming responsibility? No ransom demands? Anything?”
Cox shook his head. “Nothing. But the game is still early. It’s certainly different than anything before. The murder of Craig — it could have been anything. But it was murder. A car bomb. A terrorist-y thing. Abductions of state officials? Corporate CEOs? What the hell is the play here?”
Savas looked at Miller and back to Cox, the cold night air bringing more of a chill than was warranted.
“I’m sorry to say, Assistant Director, I have no idea.”
9
“Senator, Mr. Avram’s yacht is probably the safest place you can be today,” said a gorgeous blonde hanging on the old man’s arm. She turned toward him conspiratorially, whispering in his ear. “They say it even has a radar system to detect missiles.” The senator reddened as her ruby lips brushed his ear lobe.
The boat carved its way through New York harbor like a titan. Nebula was the world’s most expensive privately owned yacht, three years in the making and boasting a pool studded with Havana bars, a helipad, five water jets, a cinema, and a four thousand square foot master suite. Nine decks, each with entry and exit points, rose from the waterline and gave the vessel more the appearance of an aerodynamic condo than a private cruise boat.
“Truly,” came the deep voice of Robert Avram, “she’s the safest boat in the waters today.”
They stood on the upper deck, lower Manhattan a frozen collection of ten thousand Will-o'-the-wisps of skyscrapers, apartments, and bridge lights. A full moon rose into the night sky and painted the gleaming surfaces on the yacht in luminescent hues. The blonde escort smiled broadly at the CEO, her sequined dress a light show reflecting the moonlight, the plunge of her neckline scandalous. Soft jazz floated on the crisp air from below.
“I hope so,” said the senator, vacillating between the seduction hanging on his arm and a set of internal worries that he could not completely dismiss. “I’m actually scared to go home tonight. People have disappeared from their own houses!”
The woman purred. “Maybe you don’t have to go home tonight.”
Avram smirked and left the pair to their courting dance. He had no doubts the woman would be in the old fool’s bed this evening. He had hired the cream of the crop. And he had made sure that useful photos would be taken discretely at opportune moments. Robert Avram ran his business like an old Mafia boss, and he was proud of that fact.
Stepping down the stairway toward the floor below, he felt a buzz in his shirt pocket. He removed his phone and answered. Almost immediately his face turned ashen.
“You can’t be serious?” He closed his mouth quickly, glancing around the harbor in panic. “Yes, I’m listening.” His eyes widened as a man’s voice spoke on the other end. “You want me to what? This is crazy! Why should I—”
At that moment, a light flashed above him. A second later the event repeated. “Yes, I see it. No, you’re right. Our radar can’t detect objects that small. Yes. I see. Yes, of course you are.” He looked down to the guests mingling below. “Can I at least warn the others?”
His face grimaced as he placed the phone in his shirt pocket again. His hands gripped the railing tightly, and he breathed in and out slowly several times. This is not happening.
But it was. And he had been told he had little time. He rushed down the stairway. Several people approached him, but he ignored them, darting into the heart of the vessel. Forgoing the crowded stairways, he would avoid being seen this way. No one would bother him, ask questions. He would not have to think about what was happening. He pressed his thumb to the scanner by the elevator.
The doors opened immediately. He entered and hit the button to the sea-level floor. The elevator descended, the doors opened, and he dashed toward the back of the vessel.