In which we meet the monster and his minion. What plans does he have for Kate?
Shanghai - Peoples Republic of China October 8
Lazlo Vukovic did not often suffer misgivings. In fact, he prided himself on being the source of others' misgivings. There were stories that credited him with over a hundred assassinations. They were a gross libel. The actual number was closer to six hundred. If you added in the number who had died "accidentally" during his aggressive interrogations, the number crowded two thousand. Nowadays, his reputation was such that the vast majority of the guests of the Serbian secret police started talking as soon as he entered the room. Wonderful for efficiency, but severely lacking in entertainment value.
Entertainment was the furthest thing from his mind as he strode down the plush carpet of the third floor corridor of Shanghai's Mandarin Hotel. The entire hotel had been reserved by the Shanghai Cooperative Organization for the week of its annual summit, and the third floor was primarily occupied by deputies to cabinet ministers, and the operations and planning staffs of the high-ranking military leaders ensconced on the slightly more luxurious fourth floor.
How ironic that the most powerful man in the hotel—some would argue the world, with considerable justification—was hidden away among the flunkies and factotums. Laszlo knew himself to be a pragmatic and cold-hearted man, and, from that perspective, he had no illusions about the Czar. The Czar had no heart at all.
He hesitated for half a second before rapping a quick, three-beat measure—Tap, Tap…Tap—on the gleaming mahogany door to room 301. Hearing a muffled "Enter," he pushed the door open and stepped into a small foyer. He had met with the Czar many times, but only one other time had it been immediately following a failed operation, and that was over twenty years ago. Not an experience he was eager to repeat, but he must, or suffer far worse.
A small dining table had been set in the middle of the room, and a slightly built, sandy-haired man was seated next to it, casually reading the New York Times International Edition. He looked up, his dark eyes glittering as Laszlo halted and inclined his head respectfully. The Czar was not insistent on meaningless bowing and scraping, but he would tolerate no disrespect from anyone. "Be seated, Laszlo. You may brief me while we eat."
The Serbian sat and poured coffee into the cup at his place before selecting a pastry from the basket. He took a bite, chewed meditatively, and washed it down with coffee before speaking. "Both Phase 1 operations were failures…one a partial, and one total." It never paid to skirt the issues when addressing the Czar.
"Colorado Springs?" the Czar asked.
"The strike aircraft was shot down just short of the city by a fighter jet from the Colorado Air National Guard."
The Czar leaned forward. "How did they know? Was there a security leak?"
"No leak, sir. The Americans had one of their infernal AWACS in the area on a training mission, and it appears to have detected the Saudi's aircraft and directed the fighter to shoot it down."
"That still doesn't answer the question of how they knew it was hostile."
"Sir, we've not been able to confirm it, but one of our contacts at NORAD reported that they received a call alerting them to the impending strike about an hour before the plane took off."
"Name?"
"No name, sir. Just a code word—Archangel."
In the thirty years that Laszlo Vukovic had served the Czar he had never seen the older man show any emotion. This time however, the man blanched noticeably and set his coffee cup down with such force that Laszlo half expected the delicate china to shatter. He knew better than to ask why the name had affected his master, so he merely took another bite of his pastry and chewed with studied calm.
Finally, the Czar spoke. "It can't be. Archangel is dead, has been for fifteen years. If he were still alive, I would know."
"Who is…er, was, Archangel, Sir?" For a moment, Laszlo feared that his master would take umbrage at his question. That would tend to measurably decrease his life expectancy.
"Heaven's fiercest warrior," the Czar breathed, almost to himself. "The Angel who defeated the devil and cast him out of heaven."
"He was a man?" Laszlo asked, once he had assured himself he'd survived the moment of greatest danger.
"Yes, a man—or woman—we never knew exactly what the person looked like, only that they were certain to be on that 9/11 flight, the one that crashed."
"That could mean that someone else has taken up the mantle," the Serbian observed.
Once again the Czar was silent for some time, clearly deep in thought. "What about the ground crew in Colorado Springs, Laszlo?"
"Wiped out to the last man."
"I see," the Czar replied. "And how was that accomplished?"
"American soldiers, from an infantry division stationed nearby," Vukovic replied.
"And the Tampa operation?"
"The initial attack and the follow-up attack were successful. The nerve agent was successfully introduced into the sprinkler system, but casualties were fewer than expected due to a significantly higher availability of antidote than projected. The virus was never released, because the strike team was detected and engaged by American security forces. Again they were wiped out to the last man."
"There's a pattern here, Laszlo: timely intelligence, tactical brilliance, rapid decision-making and decisive action. Not things normally associated with the Americans since our plans went into effect. That means someone outside the system. Someone who can act independently, but who can call on substantial resources when necessary."
"And that would be this Archangel, sir?"
"Yes, all those skills are his hallmarks."
"May I ask a question, sir?"
The Czar nodded, and Laszlo continued. "Why Tampa for phase 1? It's not exactly a top-tier city; why not New York or Chicago or Los Angeles?"
"I'm sure you are familiar with the term 'recon by fire' are you not?"
"Of course." Laszlo replied. "So you were testing their security and emergency response?"
"Yes, we never expected the response to be so vigorous - or effective for that matter. I want you to go to Florida and determine why the operation went wrong. Fix the problem and implement phase 2 by the end of this week. I also want you to change the target for Fiery Dawn from New Orleans to Tampa. This sort of challenge must be dealt with severely."
"That will inevitably delay the operation." Laszlo noted.
"How long?" the Czar asked with a little bite to his tone.
"Two months," the Serbian stated with confidence.
"Very well then, make it so. There's a presidential debate in Tampa at the end of December, that will be the perfect time to implement Fiery Dawn."
The Serbian made to rise. "With your permission, Sir."
"By all means Laszlo, be about your business." The Serbian turned to leave, only to hear the Czar's final words. "Don't fail me again."
Thirty minutes after the Serbian left, a second knock a second visitor tapped out the same three beat tattoo on the same door.
"Come in Sergei."
Sergei Alexeyev entered and took the proffered seat across the table from the Czar.
His manner was considerably more relaxed than the previous visitor. The contrast in demeanor could have been due to the fact Sergei Alexeyev had a sense of self-importance bordering on megalomania or the fact that he was a co-conspirator and not a mere lackey. Probably both.
"I hear the phase 1 operations didn't go as well as we hoped." He observed.
"The Czar clenched his teeth to avoid snapping at the insufferable prick. He would enjoy killing him when he outlived his usefulness, but for the present… "It did not." He handed his visitor the newspaper that lying on the table next to his empty coffee cup. The front page included a quarter-page photo of Kate and Rick under the headline "Local Business-man Helps FBI."
The story went on to describe how the Orion Institute provided antidote for the victims that saved many lives. It identified Richard Castle as the founder of the Orion Institute.
"Who's the woman?" Alexeyev asked, practically drooling.
"Katherine Beckett," The Czar responded. "She's the head of the FBI's counterterrorist unit in Tampa. I have reason to believe she was also involved in the Colorado Springs operation failure. I need to know what she knows and insure that there is no interference with phase 2 and phase 3."
"She looks lonely," Alekseyev observed with a salacious grin. "She'll never know what hit her, it shouldn't take very long. It should be fun."