Chapter 42
Turning tides
The signal broke off suddenly and Eli Pope placed down his phone. He wasn´t surprised. He could almost picture her, taking the device apart with her own hands and nails, a feral cat backed into the corner and willing to do anything to escape. He had seen her to worse … But she wasn´t safe now. She could not escape his grasp. It made his lips curl up in a satisfied smile to know that despite everything, despite her betrayal that had threatened to get him into massive trouble, she was still just a rabid dog on a leash. Dangerous, but on a leash. He had to admit her gut and the way she must have planned this one out was nothing short of impressive, but in the end, his own triumph would be all the more sweet. He couldn´t wait and warned himself to be patient.
Eli gave the phone a contemplative look. He wondered what else was going on. The chaos was perfect, all the little chess figures busily scampering across the board without any plan. The girl had been a danger, that little hacker, but he did not fear her now. She had teamed up with Huck and he regretted that a considerable amount of energy would have to be put into creating a new identity for himself now, but what mattered more now was to do damage control with regards to what Maya had been doing. I had maybe been foolish to allow her to get out that far but he had been curious about her actions, curious to see what she had come up with in that twisted mind of hers. Now, however, it was time to stop the charade. He could see clearly what she was planning to do. Chaos. The situation unfolding in Brussels was toxic, had the potential to tear everything he had built over the decades to the ground. Now it was all about the fine tuning in this massive, mysterious Whodunnit. If the wrong people were reported as the villains here it could spell massive trouble. Not for him. He valued his own safety, but there were more important matters and causes. The Republic. But he didn´t worry, not too much. Because if the right people were labelled villains, there was still a chance, things would be rough for a couple of news cycles, but no harm would come from it in the long term apart from the Iraqis having to pick a new head of state. That would mean a whole different set of issues, but there, too, was a window of opportunity he intended to grasp. However, that was for later.
He turned in his chair, tapped a few keys on his laptop and activated a programme that had proven very helpful countless of times before. Seconds later the security image that popped up on his screen brought him very close to where he had to be. For a few minutes he watched the situation unfold before him. Listened to the words that were spoken. Then he took up his phone again and dialed a short number, then waited. There was a direct connection on the other line, not like someone picking up, but just a sudden connection and silence on the other end. Silence awaiting orders. He remained silent for two or three long seconds himself. "It´s time we turned this thing around in the right people´s favour, agent Larsson." he said.
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Over the last few minutes she had tried to gather her wits about her, had tried to analyse the situation, but her mind was still racing on the very borderline of panic. She told herself to focus. To do one thing at a time. Fitz was safe, he just had to be. She had to focus on other things, on adding things together, on making conclusions to make sense of this mess. First, there was Tom who had made no attempts to indicate he was on her side and while he had possibly saved her life a few minutes earlier it was clear whose side he was on. The four men remaining in the room, Larsson and the three security men that had arrived with Masri, all seemed part of the same plane even though the man who had threatened her earlier became all the more nervous the more time passed. But all of them…were waiting. The American and one of the Iraqis in particular were slowly losing their cool. Not in an obvious way. Liv could tell they were soldiers, trained for extreme situations, but there were little signs that showed their restlessness. Always alert around the remaining people in the room, keeping an eye on the huddled journalists, careful none of them made a wrong move. But they were nervous, she could tell, restless. The way a finger would twitch or the way their eyes darted around the room frequently.
Finally, someone broke the silence. It was one the Iraqis and she couldn´t understand the question he barked at the other man, but she figured it had to be something along the lines of what now or how long do we have to wait? Because clearly they were waiting for something. Instructions. But from whom? It was clear to her that these men were only mercenaries, that somebody had to be behind this, pulling the strings.
The other responded with a curt reply that was only two or three syllables long and that prompted the asker to keep silent from then onwards. Apart from that, none of the men spoke and Liv realized… there had to be surveillance. They were not talking to not betray the plans of whoever´s order they were following. She glanced upwards and sure enough spotted two security cameras, one in the left, one in the right corner of the room´s back. Why had they not taken them out first thing? Didn´t they know it made this whole thing a spectacle for others to see, possibly for the world? But maybe that was what they wanted… She felt her heartbeat increase in nervous excitement as she tried to put things together in a way that made sense. These men were working for someone and while she had seen her mother around and that could not be coincidence there were other factors to consider… She felt her guts tie into a knot of anger and disgust. And before she knew what she was doing or had time to evaluate that what she was doing might be suicide she got to her feet. She had trusted her gut before and this time her gut told her that she would not get shot. Because the one giving the commands on the other end was nobody that wanted her dead. It was somebody who was trying to distract the media and smear the legacy of the man he had never seen as president, reminding Fitz that he needed his help to keep things under control. It made no sense to her why he would stage a terrorist attack for it, but then again, there was always method to his plans and she didn´t think it would be any different this time. Even if his plan this time was the revenge of a petty old man.
The Iraqi security that had asked something in Arabic earlier instantly reacted to her getting up with a command in the same language that didn´t need translating as he trained his gun on her instantly, his face livid. She ignored it, heart hammering, mind raging, fear and anger and madness coursing through her veins. She did a few steps through the room, ignoring the Iraqi´s shouted threats and commands and came to a halt a few steps away from the security camera in the far right corner, looking up at it defiantly. The security behind her had switched his threats to a heavily accented English while the other barked at him to stand down. She could hear steps approaching quickly but bit down her fear and focused all her energy on the small camera.
"How dare you?" Her look was defiant. "You won´t kill me. If you wanted that I would be dead." She wished she weren´t shaking with rage, and maybe, just maybe, with fear and with pain because something had definitely hurt her, still making the occasional drop of blood roll down her forehead or temple, obscuring her view.
The Iraqi security was behind her in seconds and she could feel his hands grasp her arms, twisting them behind her back and she let out a yelp as he pressed the gun against the back of her head. "I said back down, lady." he snapped.
That confused her. Would he really be so reckless as to command these trigger happy men to contain her like this? To risk stray bullets? She snarled at the camera again, teeth bared this time, eyes wide. "You won´t do it. I know you won´t. You´re a monster. But you won´t do this." The security twisted her arms a little further, pressed the gun a little closer to her head and she yelled over his own scream: "You would not do this! Because if you do it will haunt you forever" She did not call him by his name. She did not call him dad. Not only because in this moment he seemed as far removed from being kin as she could possibly imagine but also because others might be watching and she wanted no ties with him. None at all.
The air in the room was tense like a tightrope. Despite there being more than a dozen live people here, it seemed empty, as everyone was holding their breaths. She was certain the eyes of everyone, the soldiers, Larsson and the hostages were on here. But she didn´t care.
"This is my last warning, bitch." The gun nozzle was clearly dangerous now. Even if the man was bluffing, just a little shaking of his finger could turn fatal. "If you don´t back down now then…"
Two shots in rapid succession and she screamed, someone else in the room echoing the sound and then she only realized with a delay of a few seconds, when the weight suddenly left her arms, when the metal of the weapon was suddenly gone, skidding sidewards across her skull like a burn, that it had not been him that had shot. The man who had threatened her fell to the ground with a dull thud, not even uttering another sound and she heard the echo of another body falling even before she could whirl around.
When she did, the tides had turned. Two more men were dead. The Iraqi who had threatened her and the American who she had firmly believed to be a traitor earlier. When she turned around, the other Iraqi was still holding his weapon but he was advancing towards who she had believed must be his colleague, both hands on the gun, his guard only letting up when he was assured the other was dead. In the other corner of the room, Tom Larsson lowered his own gun and she realized it had been him who had taken out her potential murderer. He only gave her one brief look, then he raised a hand and spoke into the sound piece on his wrist. "Mr President?This is agent situation is under control."
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Maya had given the taxi driver instructions to drop her off on a street corner not too far from the airport. The police wouldn´t come looking for her. For them she was just someone who had walked from the place with no suspicion connected to her at all. She would be safe. She could go and spend the rest of the day in her hotel room, spoiling herself as she watched the news unfold, as she watched Eli´s work go down the drain. The men she had hired, the moles she had planted in Masri´s security, were professionals. A disenfranchised, turned radical former Navy Seal from the Midwest and an Iraqi with a history of violence and not caring where money came from if only it was plentiful. Of course these two didn´t know they would probably have to sacrifice themselves in whatever drama was unfolding, but an American turning? An American security infiltrating Iraqi security forces and killing a president? Oh that was just too delicious and would turn the world upside down. If the billionaire had decided to indeed have them take out Masri she would get her news story and she gleefully pictured it in front of her inner eye: Former Navy Seal turns assassin on order of US government…. She could almost taste it, the international crisis, the chaos it would spark. Oh, it was a beautiful day indeed.
She gave the taxi driver a wad of Euro notes, plenty enough to ensure he would keep his mouth shut, little enough to not make him too suspicious, and got out of the cab. She walked the last two blocks to the hotel, less because she was concerned for her safety and more because it was beautiful day and she sarcastically thought to herself that she never really appreciated the little things enough.
The hotel lobby was its usual kind of busy when she strode through it, apart from a small cluster of hotel guests huddled around a tv set following the news and chatting in hushed voices. She ignored the commotion and took the lift up to her room on the tenth floor. What to do she thought. Maybe she would order in tonight, some of the really good stuff and a perfect and sinfully expensive wine to go with it. The end of an era deserved proper celebration after all. When one had a front row seat to watching the Empire burn, one should offer it its proper respect.
She didn´t immediately notice anything to be off when she entered her room. Nothing had changed, not the smallest item turned, not the tiniest thing disturbed. When she closed the door and hummed some nonsense song, so not her usual thing, as she placed down her bag, nothing caught her suspicion. Then it hit her. She only saw the masked gunman when he emerged from the bathroom. Too late. Tpp fast. The second closing in from around the corner to her left, the third from behind the door, like a pack of silent, deadly raptors. Special forces, she realized in a split second. An anti terrorism unit.
She couldn´t even scream and clutched a hand to her neck where she felt the dart stick out. She had no time to fumble for the gun in her bag because she had already dropped it and the man from behind the door kicked it away from her grasp when she tried to lunge for it. The last things she felt before the sedative took her out and blackened her senses were disbelief and rage.
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First of, apologies. I let you wait again and can´t tell you how grateful and happy it makes me to still see people are reading this story with the occasional like or fave coming in. Life is busy, work is hyper-busy, but now it´s summer and two weeks from now updates will be coming in at a good pace. This story is heading towards its finishing line so…stay tuned. And I hope you enjoy.
Sister 1256: Thank you. :-)
Guest (1): I am glad I can keep you on your toes. Has been a bit of a wait, but no, not for too long, Fitz is going to be fine…or is he?
Guest (2): I am sorry to be a disappointment but like everyone else here I am writing non-profit and when I take longer breaks be assured it´s not because I want to annoy my readers but simply because things are too busy out there. I appreciate you reading and hope you will continue, but do not much appreciate of the impatience, much as I can understand it. Writing is for fun.
Noro: One of my most loyal readers, thanks for letting me know you still like it. :-)
Symone0939: I haven´t seen you around before I think. Welcome and thank you. :-)
Clio1792: It always makes me smile to read your reviews. The differences in characterization you pointed out were just the little things that I was striving for, giving each of them their little quirks and making them their own persons.
Dakidd: Hehe, I am glad I can write both Maya and Eli in a way that you get upset about them, sounds like I am doing something right. About the messages…we shall see..
Jennkyle: I hope you are doing well and thank you :-)
Kelleekellkell: Thanks :-)