The Missile Game (The Dr. Scott James Thriller Series Book 1) (15 page)

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Keyes’ Apartment

12:59 pm

ROY PERKINS HADN’T HEARD from Harris in forty-eight hours now. No one had. He decided to use the information that Scott James had given to Harris, and pull the plug. He had to end this thing before it was too late and more people got hurt.

Perkins’ people hit Keyes’ apartment, picking the lock silently and slipping in unobserved. Obviously Keyes and her new do
ctor friend had just fled. Perkins’ “cleaners” worked the place over. The electronics and the databases would take time to sort out. The documents, most of them having been cross-shredded, could also be sorted out, in time. The cleaners searched every nook and cranny of the apartment, top to bottom.

Rectangular shapes on the dust-covered bedroom floor and bedroom furniture indicated that larger pieces of equipment had been removed from the apartment in the past twenty-four hours. Fingerprints were taken throughout, and sent back to Peary. CIA forensics ran through the worldwide databases and found only James’ print matched.

A record of Keyes, on the other hand, could not be found.

The Swan Motel

Jackson City, North Carolina

1:02 pm

Piecing together the names and addresses that James had acquired, Perkins could see that he had to keep this thing quiet. He knew where part of the ISIS cell was, but not the location of Quasart, or the missiles that James claimed had to be out there somewhere.

Perkins dispatched two teams to The Swan Motel.

The Pakistani bugging team in the motel room had benefited from Harold Simpkins’ nefarious deeds. They’d heard enough to know that they could be discovered at any moment. As soon as they heard the helicopter overhead, they began grabbing
their already-packed bags.

Their van was waiting, parked nose out. They flooded out of the motel room and immediately heard faint whooshes
from the sky as snipers started picking them off.

A helicopter touched down briefly in the parking lot and two men jumped out. The aircraft took off, and the two from Perkins’ team found the key, started the van, and then pulled the bodies aboard and took off.

The aircraft and the van were gone within minutes of the assault.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

Jackson City

2:59 pm

KEYES DROVE AWAY FROM the garage and through the back streets. Her face was red and she was breathing excitedly. “There’s no time to waste, Scott. You promised to help me, and now you have to fulfill that promise. I’ve looked ev
erywhere in the hospital for the drone control center and have tried to follow Waters to it. Even though he stays somewhere in the hospital when he’s firing his missiles, I’ve never been able to find him.”

“I don’t understand why you need me.”

“I’ve been all over his Penthouse and there’s no control station there. I’ve even placed surveillance cameras all over the hospital and the Penthouse. His drones are flying over Iraq now as we speak. He’ll go to his station to fire his missiles sometime today, which means that I’m dead soon if we can’t figure this out.”

“I still don’t know what you want me to do.”

“You know the hospital better than anyone, and you know Waters. Maybe you can think of something I’ve missed.”

Looking into her eyes, I saw something I’d never seen before: Panic.

My head was screaming. “I’m not going to help you bomb the hospital.”

“There may be another way.”

She looked at me.

“Scott, they’re going to kill me.”

“They’re going to kill me, too,” I said, “But if there are missiles somewhere waiting to be fired, and if Waters is in the hospital, then a lot of people will be killed in a missile attack on him. I will not be a part of that!”

Suddenly, Keyes’ phone signaled a text message. She read it aloud. “Celena: Waters has disappeared.”

“Scott, maybe I can kill Waters and deactivate his control center. Maybe that will be enough. Maybe we can find Waters and stop him. If we do that, then maybe they won’t launch the missiles.”

I pleaded with her. “Let’s alert the police. Maybe I can convince them that this is a real terrorist threat.”

She made a sharp turn, which threw me against the car door. “Look, Scott, Farok programmed my cell phone for me. If I press “6” and “Send,” the missiles are sent. But if I press “8” and “Send” a suicide bomber will come. I never had any intention of dialing six and calling for missiles.”

“This is bullshit! These guys want to reap massive destruction on America! They’re just like the 9-11 attackers! And they’re not going to let you get in their way!” I yelled. “Where are these missiles? We have to stop them! Now!”

I picked up her phone to call the police. “Where are the DAMNED MISSILES?!” I shouted.

Keyes looked at me, eyes wide and mouth open. “I … I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me! WHERE ARE THEY?!”

She shook her head. “They don’t tell all their operatives everything. I learned that in the Al Qaeda training. In case someone is captured and tortured, they don’t know certain information. But Anna Duke will know.”

She punched in a number. Anna answered immediately. “Anna, where are the missiles right now?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Keyes asked again, begging Anna to tell her the location of the missiles, but Anna held firm. “Don’t give me any shit! Just find the target! Now! Or I’ll find you and kill you myself!”

Keyes almost rear-ended the car in front of us, swerving around it in the nick of time.

“We have to call the cops,” I shouted, “or the CIA, or someone, and get help!”

“You have to help me!” she shouted back.

She reached into the back seat, grabbed the plans of the hospital, and shoved them in my lap. “Where is he? Where could he go?!”

Suddenly I got a better look at the Rolex hidden under the long sleeve of her blouse. It had so many diamonds and sapphires you could barely see the numbers on the face. I thought about the watch. Most Rolexes keep perfect time. Hers was five minutes slow.

We’d been winding our way toward the hospital, and now it came into view. I looked at the big building. What she’d said about me knowing the hospital better than anyone was true. And suddenly I knew where the control center was. It was all very clear. Keyes couldn’t find it because it wasn’t in the hospital. Not exactly. I just couldn’t believe I was going along with all this. It was practically impossible to understand what was going on.

The newest set of drawings in the roll of hospital plans were diagrams for recent rewiring. A variety of lines representing new electrical cables ran across the page. They now ran all the way down the Sub Basement—all the way to Mariner’s Wood. “It’s in one of the mobile units behind the hospital, near Mariner’s Wood. I’ll bet it’s in one of the Emergency Disaster Units. Waters had one decommissioned about two months ago.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Jackson City Hospital

3:00 pm

THE MOMENT THAT CAME out of my mouth, we h
eard gunfire. First, a couple of shots, then a short firefight. It was coming from behind the hospital. I told Keyes to park in Mariner’s Wood.

As we pulled up to the woods behind the hospital, a man with an M-16 jumped out into the road in front of us. Keyes stopped to avoid hitting him and rolled down the window. “Bathar! It’s me, Celena! Don’t shoot!”

The olive-skinned man, no more than twenty years old, with dreadlocks and facial hair stubble, stepped over to the window with his gun pointed at me. The acrid smell of gunpowder gusted into the car. My heart beat fast. The young man was thin, about five foot eight inches in height, and wore a heavily wrinkled khaki shirt and trousers.

“Bathar, this is Dr. James. He’s one of us. Tell our men to protect him.”

He pointed to five men hiding in the shadows of the hospital maintenance building. All were small, thin, bare-headed, and clad in khaki shirts and trousers. “Your soldiers,” Bathar said, nodding at the men. “We were just attacked. Men in blue jumpsuits. Heavily armed.”

Speaking in Arabic, Keyes gave Bathar instructions. I didn’t know what to do. I just kept my mouth shut.

A barely audible gunshot came from the direction of the hospital. Bathar suddenly dropped to the ground. Half his head was blown away. We could see men running from the hospital. They were big guys, muscular, like football linemen, each weighing more than 200 pounds, dressed in navy blue cotton coveralls, the uniform of the Jackson City Hospital maintenance workers. “Those are Waters’ men,” I said.

One of Keyes’ soldiers started firing his M-16.

In the distance, we heard sirens.

They’ll never make it in time. I don’t care if I end up looking like a terrorist. I have to stop this.

Keyes seemed unfazed. She texted a quick message: TARGET IS EMERGENCY DISASTER BUS BEHIND HOSPITAL. ALPHA CHARLIE’S LOCATION UNKNOWN.

She reached back and pulled out a Ruger .38 from her gym bag. Turning to me, she said, “Take out your gun and cover my back.”

I snapped a clip in the Browning. I hoped I could handle what was about to happen.

Keyes and her men ran for the Emergency Disaster Unit. I followed with my pistol.

Two more of Waters’ men suddenly stepped out from behind the bus. Their loud automatic weapons cut down the first of Keyes’ soldiers. Keyes dropped to one knee and fired the Ruger .38 twice. Both men fell. Keyes didn’t flinch.

One of Keyes’ men was dragging a four-foot section of heavy pipe with welded handles, filled with fifty pounds of lead. Another soldier came up from behind him, grabbed one of the handles, and together they slammed the battering ram into the door of the bus. The aluminum door collapsed and the ram went sailing into the trailer.

Keyes and her men ran inside and there was a sharp firefight. Gun smoke drifted out of the RV’s door. Waters’ man inside and the two with the ram were dead.

Suddenly shots came from the woods.

As Keyes stepped out the door, a man in a blue jumpsuit popped out of nowhere and pointed his gun at her back. Reflexively, I raised my pistol and shot. The man fell dead.

It was that easy.

“You didn’t mention I’d have to kill people,” I said.

“Musta’ slipped my mind.”

More shots came from the woods. Machine gun fire strafed the RVs and killed the last two of Keyes’ “soldiers.”

Then, from the exit behind the hospital, I saw a tall muscular man with a ponytail emerge. He was carrying an M-79 grenade launcher.

It was Brightman.

But whose side is he on?

My question was answered when Brightman launched a series of grenades at the shooters in the woods. There were four
carumps
as the grenades exploded, and the shooting ceased.

Brightman barked out, “Got’em, Celena.”

Brightman ran toward the Emergency Disaster bus. A man in a blue jumpsuit appeared at the far side of the buses and shot. Blood trickled from Brightman’s head. He staggered backward and fell just outside the door. Blood slowly leaked into his blonde hair as he lay motionless.

Keyes swiftly spread her feet, crouched, and seeing the bulges of a Kevlar bulletproof vest inside the shooter’s jumpsuit, delivered a thunderous shot straight into his neck. The man keeled over.

I looked at Brightman. “I hope he isn’t the bomber who was supposed to wipe out Waters.”

“No. When I give the signal from my cell, someone else will come with a car full of explosives.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Drone Control Center

3:04 pm

WATERS SAT IN THE rear of the Emergency Disaster Unit, working his controls. His eyes remained fixed on the three twenty-five-inch screens in front of him. He never looked away.

Keyes approached slowly, pointing her gun at W
aters, who was sitting on the other side of a large pane of glass. I followed. The smell of gunpowder was intense. Waters was so focused on the monitor he barely even noticed her. Suddenly, Keyes raised her pistol and fired six shots at Waters.

Waters did not fall. Instead, he laughed and pointed at the glass. “State of the art bulletproof glass, my dear. Very thin, but still effective. You’re going to have to do better than that to get me.”

Keyes reached into her pocket for her phone to alert Quasart and Farok that she’d found Waters and the control center. She had only to press “8” and “Send” to have the ISIS bomber sent.

Suddenly there was motion to the right. Keyes turned quickly. A trap door in the floor sprang open and a large, muscular man—Jefferson, Waters’ security man—appeared out of nowhere and slapped her gun away. He grabbed her from behind and held her so tightly that she struggled to breathe. She grunted as her phone fell to the floor. I recognized Jefferson and pointed my pistol, but he used Keyes as a shield.

I could see through the door in the floor that there was a passageway to the Sub-Basement, the secret entrance to the hospital Keyes and the rest had been unable to locate.

I was shaking and unsure of what to do next. I had my Browning on Jefferson, but didn’t have a shot.

“Drop it,” Jefferson said, ducking his head behind Keyes’ head.

I pressed my finger on the trigger, but hesitated. This was a man I’d talked with many times when I’d gone to Waters’ office. He wasn’t just an anonymous enemy. He was a man I knew and had once called my friend.

“Drop it! Or I’ll kill her!” Jefferson demanded.

I kept my finger on the trigger for a moment, but then dropped the gun.

“Excellent job, Jefferson.” Waters said. “The doctor’s no threat without a gun. He belongs to me. I want him to watch my gaming skills and see how I made my fortune for a few minutes before he dies. Then, after I’m done here, I want the pleasure of pulling the trigger on him.”

“The authorities are on their way,” I said. “Game over, Alpha Charlie.”

“Ha! You’re going to be just another part of your own massacre by the time they get here. So glad you could join us here, Dr. James.”

“I’ve been in contact with Pete Harris.”

Waters continued his focus on the target screen, but laughed as though I were a naive child. “Scott, this is just like the video games we used to play. Look at the upper-right screen. That’s a video replay of the incident that got me this job.”

The black-and-white image showed a deuce-and-a-half-ton truck driving in the middle of an American convoy along a road near Kirkuk. Suddenly, a huge explosion completely destroyed the truck.

“This happened three hours ago. The bomb was an IED planted in the gravel road by ISIS. The American military truck was carrying General Harold Bushey and twelve of his men. Bushey is, or I should say was, the command officer of the Third Infantry Division.”

Keyes squirmed and kicked in Jefferson’s grasp. She
had
to press “8” and “Send.”

Ignoring her, Waters continued. “Today, my Reaper is armed with four Hellfire missiles. A hit gets me a check for $30 million, immediately deposited into a foreign bank, and I’ll never be taxed on a penny.”

Waters manipulated the hand controls and placed a computer “square” on the bomb factory that had made the IED that killed General Bushey. An X appeared on the screen. Waters moved it to overlap the square on the target. A quick thrust of his thumb, and a Hellfire entered the screen. A couple seconds later, it exploded. As the smoke cleared, I could see the building was totally flattened.

Waters put his controls on the table and sent an e-mail: Mission complete.

Waters pushed open a bulletproof glass door and faced me. Smiling, he said, “So, Dr. James, before I kill you, I’d like to know, have you been enjoying my old girlfriend?”

Refusing to take his bait, I instead shook my head. “What happened to you, Herb?”

Waters laughed. “The hospital’s just a sideline for me, a front, a triviality. I assume you’ve already figured out that I am selling it.”

As long as I kept him talking, I could stay alive, so I answered, “Yeah, but it’s such a money-maker for you. Why sell?”

“It’s chump change compared to what I’m making with my drones. Within a year, I’ll make another couple of hundred million, retire, and play with my drones full time. And—I’ve never really enjoyed hospital work.”

“Really? Who knew?”

“I’ve come to see that the rules that apply to most people don’t apply to me.”

I looked around for a way to escape.

Waters had his henchmen kill Barnes, Jolly, and probably Dr. Carey and Willie Wilson, too. Keyes and I are his next victims. But I can outsmart him. He wants to brag on himself. I’ll just keep him talking until I find a way to overpower him.

“Are you delusional or what?” I goaded him.

“For example, I have an extraordinary libido, and my wife is a true nymphomaniac. We each have a villa in the Mediterranean. We have an agreement that we each take on a new lover every two months. Actually, she takes two or three young guys and generally swaps them after a month or so.”

“So you got horny and brought Keyes here to seduce her yourself.”

“I don’t believe in romantic involvement with employees. Besides, I wanted her planted firmly in
your
office. I didn’t care about her involvement with Farok at that time. I knew having access to an operative like Elizabeth would give me the chance to discredit you. Get rid of all the stories in town about the great, kind Dr. James.”

“Jefferson, Farok is going to bomb this hospital!” Keyes pleaded. “I need to make a call to stop him!”

“Tell that story to the chief, sister.”