Storm Killer (30 page)

A small travel bag awaited him in the trunk of a rental car parked at Dulles Airport’s daily garage number 2. In the bag were several changes of causal clothes, shaving gear, and several days of clean socks and underwear. 

An attaché case, also in the trunk, contained a file folder with the passports in individual closed interoffice envelopes. Two other file folders contained his account access passwords and numbers for the various off shore bank accounts he would live off of for the rest of his life.

Two new PCDs registered to Ackerman or Rosensweig were still in their boxes in the case. He would dispose of one of them when he arrived in Riyadh, depending on which name he had to use to fly there.

He walked quickly up East Executive Avenue to the blocked off Pennsylvania avenue intersection. He turned right down Pennsylvania and then turned right onto 15
^th
Street. He passed G Street and then crossed over 15
^th
. He walked down the block to the Old Ebbitt Grill, entered through the revolving glass door and into the Victorian-era interior.

He turned away from the host station and the large turn of the century bar and went down the steps to the toilets. 

Pushing open the door to the men’s room, he sat down his briefcase and opened the utility closet. He pulled out the “closed for cleaning” sign and placed it outside the men’s room door. Pulling a rubber doorstop from his brief case, he kicked it into place behind the door effectively blocking the door from anyone entering. 

He picked up the briefcase and sat it on a sink. Standing at the adjacent sink, he opened the case, and began applying his false goatee and spraying gray hair highlights into his dark brown hair. He had practiced this over and over, and had the entire process complete in less than two minutes.

He pulled out the doorstop, threw it back in his brief case, and closed the case. Opening the door, he walked around the cleaning sign and back up the steps.

Exiting the Grill, he retraced his steps to the 15
^th
Street and New York Avenue intersection. Here, he haled a cab. He had planned to use this location, since it was a very busy tourist area and cabs were easy to come by most all times of the day. 

“Dulles Airport, please” Rosen said when he entered the cab. He settled back, and glanced out the window at his last view of the White House. He sighed, checked his watch for the time, and settled back in the seat. He pulled the flight schedules from his pocket and checked the time again. He would get to Dulles, get the attaché case from the car, and be through check-in and security screening just in time to catch the 12:50 Continental flight to Lima, Peru.

68

Lt. James spoke, “While we wait for Adam, let’s start to try and figure out where to start after the chip. Or more to the point, where is Brad?” 

Kim said, “I’ve already tried Brad’s PCD. No response, it’s turned off. I just activated the tracker.” The tracker was a station function that would locate any of the senior staff via their PCD, even if the unit were turned off. This was a military add-on that NASA had thought was a good idea. If a disaster of some sort hit the station, the decision makers could be physically located quickly by simply entering their code to the tracker.

The lieutenant replied, “Good. I’ve a bad feeling that he is in serious trouble.”

Kim replied, “I’ve got a bad feeling that he
is
serious trouble.”

Lt. James looked surprised and asked, “Why?”  

“If we can believe Senor De La Cruz, there are still two saboteurs onboard. They report to Dr. Rosen, the President’s Science Advisor, who has been bought by some important and obviously wealthy people in Mexico. The saboteurs must know Dr. Rosen pretty well. I don’t think he would recruit strangers into his plot. I would think that at least one, if not both, of these traitors are of a level of authority that having conversations with Dr. Rosen would not seem unusual. In fact, their conversations would probably be considered NASA business as usual. So they would be in the senior staff structure.” She paused to catch her breath and check the tracker.

Kim continued, “And then, the bloody shoe prints of Rafael’s killer would indicate the person had been at the crystal lab crash site and got his shoes all cut up. Other than us, everyone there initially was senior staff. Since the techs showed up much later at the site, they would have been busy in their cleanup when Rafael was murdered.”

The Lieutenant nodded, “Go on”.

“Let’s assume that Rafael was attempting to write the initial of his killer. The bloody B would narrow it to one of three people at the crash site. They are Brad Bolino, Greg Ballard, and Layne Bartlett,” Kim ticked off on her fingers.

The lieutenant nodded again, “And now, Brad Bolino is missing, and he has the chip.”

“Yes, but he’s not missing now!” Kim expressed jubilantly as she pointed at the tracker screen. “The tracker says his PCD is moving, and is headed toward the evacuation staging area at the hub. He appears to be using the elevator.”

“Let’s go!” Lt James said as he leapt toward the door.

At that moment the lieutenant’s cell rang. It was Adam Sand. “James, we’re in deep crap. The missile is already on its way. I’m trying to get the President to abort it now that he knows there are still people on the station with not enough time left to evacuate. It would certainly help if we could say we have regained station control!”

“Adam, we believe Bolino is in on this plot and has the chip. He probably killed Rafael. He’s headed to the evacuation point. We’re going after him. Give us three or four minutes to recover the chip.”

Adam replied, “Lieutenant, I’ll give you all of the time you want. There is no way we can get everyone off the station before the missile gets here. So we either convince the ground to abort the missile or we all die. It’s that simple. We have about twenty minutes left.”

“Okay, I understand. We’ll let you know as soon as we have the chip. Goodbye.” The lieutenant hung up, quickly explained the situation to Kim, whose eyes widened as their perilous position struck home. 

They ran out the door to their security cart. In back were two PPUs, the personal propulsion devices. As they began to strap on the units, Kim placed a hand on top of the lieutenant’s hand holding his PPU. She looked at him in the eye and said, “I’ll go get Bolino. I need you to chase down the connection between Dr. Rosen and Bolino. Maybe that’ll tell us who the other traitor is, too.”

Lt. James balked and shook his head, “No, I’m going with you.”

Kim could tell by the look on his face that he was determined to go after Bolino. She simply said, “Lieutenant, I was given command of this investigation and I order you to do as I say. This is not open to a democratic vote on your part. Now go and do as I ordered.”  

The lieutenant stared at her and fought his emotions. “Officer Danby -- Kim, I can’t believe this is in the best interest of our personal safety. We’re pretty sure that Bolino has Hoch’s weapon. What makes you think he’ll not try to use it? He’s already killed once!”

Kim in an emphatic voice replied, “Please, no argument. Just go and do as I ordered. I’m a trained law enforcement agent just as you are. I can apprehend this guy solo. Now just go get your assignment done, okay?”

The lieutenant hesitated for a split second and then laid down the PPU he was still holding. He nodded his head saying, “Be careful and don’t take chances. Our goal is the recovery of the chip. The taking of Bolino is secondary. If need be, just shoot him and don’t try to take him prisoner. He’s far too dangerous!” He turned and getting in the cart headed for the security office to run down Dr. Rosen and Brad Bolino’s pasts.

69

Dr. Rosen had left the President no more than a minute ago. The President’s Chief of Staff, Alan Hardy, had just arrived in the underground facility and had stumbled on Rose’s unconscious body sprawled in the hallway to the Situation Room. His yell had caught the President’s attention. He turned and saw Rose lying on the floor. Her face was turned toward him and he saw the tiny trickle of blood still issuing from her nose. 

The President jumped up and ran to the door, “Alan, what the hell is going on? Did you do this?”

Hardy replied, “Hell no, I found her lying here. I wonder how long she has been here?”

“Not too long, Dr. Rosen just left and would have seen her,” the President stated.

“Oh yeah, I saw him getting off the elevator as I got on to come down. So, she couldn’t have been her for more than a few seconds,” Hardy suggested.

The President nodded and stated, “I thought she had left already. I asked for her resignation, and Dr. Rosen brought it to me. He said she had gone.” 

Hardy yelled loudly for help and immediately a door opened and two Marines and two Secret Service agents ran out of a room adjacent to the Situation Room. Hardy ordered, “Get this woman some medical assistance. And stay with her until they get here.” 

Hardy, inspecting the hallway, considered his leader’s remarks and replied, “Something isn’t right here. Look at the blood drops down the hall. They come out of the advisors’ office. So Rose must have come out of there and made her way toward you. If this had happened in the hall, Rose could have yelled for help just like I did and these men would have responded just like they just did.” 

Hardy walked down the hall, turned on the overhead lights, and looked into the advisors’ office. The drops of blood from Rose’s nose led to a small pool of blood under the far desk. Hardy said, “It looks like she was attacked and stuffed under that desk. What the hell is going on?”

The President looking through the door and inspecting the scene said, “I don’t know but I intended to find out!”

He turned to the shorter of the Secret Service agents. “Rocky, find out what the hell happened here!”    

“Yes, sir, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

The President strode back to the Situation room with Hardy in tow.

The lead agent looked at the room, the trail of blood and the unconscious woman so close to the Situation Room. He sighed and thought,
Oh great! Why did this happen on my shift? Crap, crap, crap. Okay Rocky get a grip and deal with it. It’s just the President’s National Security Advisor lying on the floor looking like she was hit by a freight train. No big deal. Crap! No big deal! Who am I kidding? Let’s just hope the media doesn’t get wind of this.

The Marines had returned with the President’s doctor. As he arrived, “Rocky”, the agent, grabbed his arm and requested, “Doc, if possible, wake her up so we can find out what happened here.”

He dropped to his knees and began checking the woman’s vital signs, looked into her bleeding nose, and felt around her head. He seemed pleased with his findings, and reaching in his bag brought out an ammonia nitrate ampoule. As he broke it and stuck it under Rose’s nose, he said to the two agents, “She’s okay, somebody really walloped her in the back of the head. She probably has a minor concussion, and should go to the hospital for observation.  

Rose’s head snapped away from the pungent odor under her nose. Her eyes fluttered open and moved around until they focused on the doctor. He smiled at her and said, “It’s okay. You were hit very hard on the head and you must have staggered out here and fainted.”

She shook her head, “No, I was trying to get to the Situation Room to tell the President that the evacuation order for Storm Killer had not been received. There are still people on the station and he’s got to abort the missile!”

None of the people in attendance had a clue what she was talking about. When a crisis was underway and the Situation Room was in use, no external media coverage or personal communications could be received by anyone other than the President and his senior advisors. This was to ensure the junior staff did not panic or spread rumors about any situation taking place above ground.

Rose glanced around at the men looking down at her. She recognized the two Secret Service agents. The shorter one was a man nicknamed “Rocky” because he had a vague resemblance to Sylvester Stallone. 

She pointed to him and said, “You’re the agent they call Rocky, right?”

He nodded and replied. “Yes ma’am. And I believe you’re Rose Magruder, the President’s Security Advisor?”  

Rose decided it was best to not reply to that. Things were difficult enough without trying to explain about her resignation. She just nodded her head in reply.

“Agent Rocky, I need to see the President at once! If he doesn’t stop something he started, his Presidency and the prestige of the United States may suffer badly. Can you help me walk into him?” Rose pleaded.

“Just a moment, ma’am. I need to know what happened here. Who hit you? And why?” Rocky asked.

“Look, we haven’t any time for questions right now, I must see the President. I promise, as soon as I finish talking with him, I’ll answer anything you want answered. Please, get me in there right now!” Rose all but sobbed, her lips quivering. She was bordering on hysteria.