Panic (8 page)

Jerome pulled the SUV over to the curb on West 114
^th
and turned off the engine. After a cursory sweep of the vehicle’s exterior, the bodyguard located a small black box fixed to the inside of one of the wheel arches. He tossed the device into a nearby trash can and kneeled down to get a better view of the undercarriage. Satisfied, he gave the all clear and gestured the others out of the car.

Columbia University’s enormous Butler Library backed onto the street, which was lined with rows of brick-fronted apartment buildings owned by the University Trust. The street was adorned with flags, hanging haphazardly from the many bookstores and apartment blocks that loomed overhead, but the wind hadn’t yet picked up enough to rouse them. Jerome fed a handful of change into the parking meter, and the three of them made toward a set of tall black gates that opened onto the rear entrance path to the University’s Morningside campus.

It was only just midday and the sun was out in full, along with what seemed like the entire university student body. The path opened out onto an enormous courtyard, with Butler Library at the closest end and the Low Memorial Library at the farthest. In between the two buildings was an expansive grassy area signposted as South Lawn, which was intersected with pathways leading up to the steps of the library, where a crowd of students shuffled around looking for their parents following the graduation ceremony earlier in the day. Hundreds of others were either walking through the campus or were sitting on the grass reading, laughing, or playing Frisbee. Leopold led the way toward the Low Memorial Library steps at the far end of the lawns, where the University’s administrative departments were housed, weaving in and out of the crowd.

“I ran a search on Stark,” said Jerome, catching up to Leopold and holding out his cell phone. “There’s an entry on here from several years ago that caught my eye.”

“Ex-military?” asked the consultant.

“Yes, just like the senator said. Except this particular branch of the military only takes the best of the best. Stark was the leader of a black ops team stationed in the Middle East until five years ago.”

“What happened?”

“Stark was discharged for engaging the enemy during a ceasefire,” said Jerome. “Turns out nobody told him the war was over. His entire unit was rounded up and sent packing.”

“Great, just what we need,” said Leopold. “A team of super-soldiers with a grudge. Let’s hope Stark’s on our side.”

“We’d know if he held a grudge against us,” said Jerome, pointing to the screen. “Apparently, he flew into a rage after his commanding officer took the stand. Threatened to assault the man as he took his seat.”

“Not a fan of authority figures?”

Jerome nodded and kept walking. The Low Library building loomed overhead, casting a shadow over the steps as the sun crept slowly overhead. The entrance was sheltered by ten towering columns, over fifty feet tall and made from gleaming white marble. Inside, the domed ceiling rose one hundred feet above the main hall, and the walls were lined with busts of notable Greek and Roman philosophers, who glared menacingly at the crowd of students going about their business below. Leopold led Jerome and Mary through to the back of the hall, blinking hard as his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light.

“To find Christina,” said Leopold, his voice echoing slightly, “we need to access the University’s student records and track down where these classmates of hers live, so we can ask them a few questions.”

“How can we get access?” said Mary.

“All I need to do is scan the area for the University’s wifi network,” said Leopold. “My cell phone can emit a radio frequency that will block all wireless transmissions within a fifty foot radius, cutting off access to anyone linked up to the network. Then, when we turn off the jammer, we can piggyback on another device as it tries to log back in.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” said Mary, “but I guess that means you can hack into the University’s files?”

“Yes. But you make it sound so
simple
,” said Leopold.

Mary smiled and shrugged. Leopold swiped the cell phone’s screen to unlock it and proceeded to activate the program. Less than a minute later, the software connected to the University network, and Leopold ran a quick search of the student records for the names that Senator Logan had provided.

“They’re not far,” said Jerome, “living in university-owned accommodation on the corner of 114
^th
and Broadway.”

“Fantastic,” said Mary. “Looks like we parked in the right spot.”

Chapter 15

Stark was a patient man. He had completed tours in Afghanistan, Iraq, and countless other places where he and his team of highly trained soldiers could be best put to use. If the government needed delicate work carried out with zero exposure, Stark and his team were the number one choice. On the forty-seven missions he had commanded, Stark had always achieved his objectives and he was not about to break his winning streak now. The colonel didn’t leave anything to chance and no detail, however small, ever escaped his attention. Dealing with high-profile clients was no exception to this rule.

Following several unscheduled visits to the house, Stark had advised the senator to make sure that a member of his team was present during all meetings, to ensure any security risks were properly managed. The senator had eventually agreed, on the condition that the colonel himself be present and that anything said during the meetings be treated in the strictest confidence. Stark didn’t relish the idea of bugging every room in the house, so he had agreed and signed a nondisclosure form.

Today’s meeting was with the three businessmen from Washington, one of several meetings they had held in the last week that Stark had been forced to endure. Standing quietly at the back of the richly-decorated room, the soldier thought back with fondness to his days in combat. Hopefully, his chance would come again soon.

“Senator, I’m sure you can understand the situation we’re in here,” said one of the suits, a smug expression on his face.

“Why don’t you spell it out for me?” replied Logan, his impatience almost tangible.

“It’s the nature of politics, I’m afraid,” the second suit chimed in. “We have to see some kind of commitment from you before we can do the same. You know how it is.”

“If you mean financial commitment, I am working on a package right now. I had aimed to have a proposal for you by today, but I’m afraid we’ve run into an unforeseen roadblock. Nothing to worry about, I assure you. I’ll have something solid for you by tomorrow.”

“Good, good,” said suit number three, slapping his palm across the senator’s shoulder. “I’m glad we can stay friends.”

The colonel watched the old politician recoil as though something disgusting had brushed up against him, but the three suits didn’t seem to notice. Stark would have broken the man’s wrist. They would have noticed that.

“So, to confirm: When I provide the initial capital, your organization will provide the rest of the sum required?” asked the senator.

“As we discussed, yes,” said suit number one. “My organization can provide up to two hundred million, provided you can meet your side of the deal,” he added.

“You’ll have the details soon,” said Logan.

“Good. Now, on to the good part,” said suit number three, relaxing into the chair and putting his hands behind his head. “We need to start thinking about your campaign. It’s election year, so concentrate on keeping your place in the senate for now. Once you’re confirmed for another term, we’ll start putting the wheels in motion.”

“And what will that involve?” asked the senator.

“The key to any successful run for office is to get the swing voters on your side early. We can start looking at that now. By the time the election results are in this year, we’ll already know our plan of attack. We can take care of mapping out the next six years in their entirety and get everything in place early. We just need your commitment.”

“I’ve already said you’ll have it. I’d like to hear some specifics of what your organization can guarantee.”

“There are never guarantees in politics, Senator,” said suit number two, leaning forward. “You of all people should know that. What we can provide, in exchange for certain… shall we say,
policy concessions
, is a shot at the title. And that’s more than anyone else can count on, so we need to be sure we’re backing the right man.”

“You have my word,” said the senator, briskly. “And that’s all I can give for now. You’ll hear from my assistant this afternoon. Now, gentlemen, is there anything else you would like to discuss?”

“We’ll speak again this afternoon, I think,” said suit number one, getting up and holding out his hand. “We’ll say goodbye for now.”

Logan remained seated and shook suit number one’s hand. The other two nodded politely, and the three men left the room and walked into the hallway, where Viktor was waiting to show them out. Stark wanted to make sure their guests weren’t left alone during their visit, not even for a second. Viktor shut the door softly behind them.

“Make sure that the telephone systems are operational by lunch time,” said the senator. “Your encryption software is wreaking havoc with the lines, and I need to speak to the insurance company and my bank in Zurich urgently.”

“Yes, sir,” said Stark.

The senator left the room. The colonel stood alone in the plush study and noted with disgust that the value of the furniture alone would be enough to feed a large family for several months, at least. Stark understood that power and money went hand in hand. He understood that the link between politics and wealth was as old as time itself, and he knew that his country’s fate was decided by the privileged few. But he didn’t have to like it.

Today’s America was different. In earlier times the country had fought itself free of tyranny and had forged an empire that now spanned the entire globe. Perhaps not an empire in the traditional sense, but an empire of economics and political power that affected the lives of more than seven billion people. Today’s America was weak in comparison, left frail by the disease of corruption that went all the way to the White House. Crippled by the endless greed that had sucked the soul out of this once-great nation. A nation that millions of men had died fighting to protect.

The battle-worn soldier recalled the days when distinguishing between good and evil was a lot simpler. During his combat days, Stark would simply follow orders and trust that his superiors were on the right side. Now, in his civilian life, he found those lines had become blurred, and evil was no longer wearing armor and carrying a rifle, it was dressed in an expensive suit, armed with a bright smile, and carrying a
Mont Blanc
pen.

Stark made his way back to the entrance hall, pausing as he passed the photograph of the senator and the president shaking hands at the birthday party. Two men, smiling and laughing in the knowledge they were safe and secure, unaware of the people who had suffered and died to protect their way of life.

The tiny earpiece nestled in Stark’s ear canal crackled, and Dolph’s voice came on the line. The colonel listened to the report with growing concern and adjusted his orders accordingly. It wouldn’t be long before Blake and his friends discovered what the senator had done. The next phase of the plan would need to be moved up a little.

Chapter 16

Leopold, Mary, and Jerome stood outside the Columbia halls of residence, fumbling with a folded paper map of Manhattan and trying to look like tourists. A heaving crowd pushed past them, largely uninterested. Every now and then the towering bodyguard would catch the attention of the more curious passers-by, but his cold stare ensured they didn’t linger. Most of the people on the streets were dressed in business suits, many carrying briefcases and wearing thin overcoats. Despite the unseasonal warmth, the threat of sudden rain showers kept the summer wardrobes at bay. One particular figure, dressed unusually in a long coat and brimmed hat, passed close by, but kept his eyes down and his hands in his pockets. A few students passed by carrying stacks of heavy text books, chatting animatedly.