“Osborne?”
Finally, Osborne spoke. “Yeah, I’m here. I’m just in shock, that’s all.”
“About what? What can you tell me about the Kuklovod?”
“Honestly, I can’t tell you much — but I can tell you that they were once one of the most formidable terrorist groups in the world. Their operatives were better than ours, if truth be told.”
“Is that all?”
“One last thing: if you’re following a lead on a story that points to them, stop right now. You don’t want to get mixed up with them.”
Flynn thanked Osborne for the information and hung up.
He pumped his fist in the car as he drove toward the airport. He wasn’t about to stop now, no matter how dangerous Osborne claimed they were. No journalist stops this short of the finish line. He was prepared, no matter what the cost.
Yet Flynn had no idea just how costly it could be.
CHAPTER 13
Ivan looked at his watch. It was noon on Thursday. Just over 24 hours down and just over 24 hours to go. By two o’clock tomorrow, it will all be over. He smiled at the thought.
Believing in a cause — doing something that mattered with his life — meant doing unpleasant things at times. This was one of those times. His back ached from sitting in a cramped position. After spending months studying the schematics of the U.N.’s general assembly hall, he knew there was only one place he could hide and not be seen by the Secret Service’s obligatory sweep of the building. For years, his organization — the Kuklovod — knew the President’s Secret Service created a false sense of security. They served more as a deterrent for undisciplined terrorists than a true line of defense. While imposing, the Secret Service was far from infallible, a point he was going to prove very soon when the President addressed the U.N.
The worst part of his hiding spot high above the general assembly meeting hall was that he could only move minimally for just over two days. With a couple of bottles of water jammed into his coat pockets, Ivan felt even more restricted by the Elite Catering uniform. A dark jacket, white dress shirt and black slacks propagated the idea that he was there to serve food and nothing else. It was uncomfortable but necessary for when impending chaos reigned in the building. He would walk out and disappear into the turbulent city streets.
With his phone in one coat pocket and his Bluetooth earpiece securely fastened, Ivan placed a call. He wanted to check in to let everyone know the plan was running smoothly.
“What’s Flynn up to?” the man on the other end of the line asked.
“As far as we can tell, nothing that would derail us from our plan. We haven’t been able to listen in on his calls, but I got a report that he flew to Dallas earlier this week and is still there.”
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
“No. Should it?”
“Dallas is home to many secrets.”
“And most of them are buried now.”
“Don’t be so confident. I’ll dispatch another operative to track him. We don’t want to get surprised by anything he does.”
“Just relax. You’ll get what you want soon enough.”
“Do what you’re supposed to do and get out of there. We have plenty of work to do here yet.”
Ivan knew he was right. Removing President Briggs solved nothing in and of itself. Starting a world war wasn’t easy. The fuse needed to be set ever so delicately. The reward needed to outweigh the risk. The players needed to have sufficient motivation to cast off all restraint.
The poor little people of the United States, thinking they live in such a safe place. They’ll never see us coming.
For the plan to be a guaranteed success, Ivan needed to kill President Briggs. It was worth the momentary discomfort. It would all be over soon enough.
CHAPTER 14
Flynn checked his voice messages on the way to the airport. Theresa left a message telling Flynn she needed him in New York City on Friday to cover the President’s speech at the U.N. about the growing famine crisis in Central Africa. Apparently not one but two staff writers had come down with a nasty illness that required the change. Theresa sounded apologetic in her message, but it didn’t change the fact that Flynn would have to put his investigation on hold and reroute his flight. Oh, boy, I get to partake in the joys of airline customer service!
There was also a message from Natalie. She said she found something very interesting that might make for a good story. In an attempt to stimulate Flynn’s interest, Natalie didn’t reveal any of the details or the nature of her findings. She knew a cryptic message would garner a return phone call. Flynn laughed as he deleted her message. He knew she just wanted to talk and wondered if she’d even found anything at all.
Still twenty minutes out from the airport, Flynn tuned into one of Dallas’ 24-hour news radio stations to catch up on what was happening in the present. Spending all your time living in the past can lead to an unhealthy view on life. So can spending all your time investigating conspiracy theories. Both practices took their toll on Flynn. If his mother were still alive, Flynn doubted he would trust her. She would’ve probably been some double-agent spy grooming him to gather some highly sensitive intel so she could sell it to the highest bidder. Somehow he doubted she would’ve been making him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and taking him to school every day.
Yet it was his cynicism and suspicion that made him a rock star in his field. No story was too unbelievable, nor was it ever believable on its surface. Lies weave the tapestry of a world people want to live in, not a world they actually live in. Sometimes lies are told to them; other times people lie to themselves. Ultimately, the truth ends up hidden in a dense fog of deceit. Just understanding the level of dishonesty in the world was enough to make any man cynical. But it was that understanding that also drove Flynn to relentlessly pursue the truth until he’d exposed every lie. His cynicism served him well, yet he hoped it wouldn’t destroy him either. He wanted to believe every word out of Natalie’s mouth, but he just knew better. People rarely say what they mean — that’s what he learned in his CIA training on understanding body language and the art of deciphering the truth. It was a class that served as the foundation for gathering intelligence and determining its usefulness, not to mention its authenticity. As difficult as it might be to gather enough plausible evidence to reveal the truth about who ordered the assassination of JFK and why, Flynn possessed the resolve necessary to bring it to light .
Flynn turned his attention back to the radio, listening intently to a report about the growing tensions between the U.S. and Russia. What year is this? 1984? He struggled to believe that after all the goodwill engendered between the two super powers over the past twenty years that suddenly they would go right back to saber rattling with threatening rhetoric.
Russia scared Flynn like no other country could. While serving as a CIA operative, Flynn went behind the curtain to learn about the terrible atrocities being committed by ruthless leaders all over the world. Some of the tyrants in Africa even possessed chemical weapons. But the CIA ignored them, knowing Africa had more to lose by using a chemical weapon against the U.S. — if they even had a delivery method. The CIA didn’t hesitate to turn a blind eye to such activity. They wanted plausible deniability if somehow one of these leaders ever figured out a way to deploy a chemical weapon in the U.S. But that was not the case for Russia. Threats emanating out of Russia were taken seriously. It’s one thing to dismiss a threatening country with a disorganized, untrained, and ill-equipped army and no air or naval support. But Russia is in far better shape to carry through on a threat. What the CIA — and everyone in the Department of Defense — feared were the ideological leaders within the Russian government. If Russian leaders ever felt they could unequivocally launch an attack on the U.S. leading to its demise and conquer, they would do it. And that’s why Flynn shuddered when he heard the news reports .