Read American Law (Law #2) Online
Authors: Camille Taylor
American Law (Law #2)
American Law
A Law Novel
Camille Taylor
American Law
Copyright © 2015 by Camille Taylor.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: January 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-448-6
ISBN-10: 1-68058-448-0
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For my wonderful grandparents.
Table of Contents
May 2011
The Pentagon, Virginia, USA
Secretary of Defense Walter Mann sat at his desk in his private office at the Pentagon, long after midnight. The other employees had long since gone home. He was completely alone, the cleaners having come and gone hours ago. The security guards never patrolled this area of the building, since the information kept here was highly classified. Silence surrounded him except for the gentle hum of his computer and the tapping of the keys as he typed.
He removed his Ralph Lauren glasses and blinked, his tired eyes stinging. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d been in the military for the past forty years and had earned his high position within the government through hard work and dedication. He had started at the bottom and proved himself every step of the way.
He had made his way up the ladder fast, leap frogging over other candidates, determined to make something out of his life. He had taken all the difficult jobs that would set him out in a crowd, preparing himself for greatness from the start. Now, he was
the
man at the Pentagon who directly reported to the White House.
He had denied himself a lot of opportunities in life to get where he was. He had never married, never had children. Some might have considered his life bleak, empty, but he considered it to be quite full and important. A lot of people knew who he was and revered him. Young, green soldiers looked to him as a role model, a man they would want to be when they reached his age. He had given his country all he had; it meant everything to him and he would protect it at all costs.
He had joined the military at the first possible instance once he became of legal age and never had any doubts, not once looking back or regretting any decision, never wishing things had gone differently.
He stared at his flat computer screen as he imputed the details of the file. The bright light irritated his eyes but he had to get the job over and done with. He ignored the harsh glare and swallowed the last of his coffee that had since gone cold. He had never been a tech person, but he had learned all about computers and technology purposely so he could understand his juniors when they spoke. He refused to let anyone talk down to him.
He liked to know what and how things were going on in his house, and the Pentagon was
his
house. There was no mistake about that. Nothing went on that he didn’t know about. He had even gone as far as installing an invisible key stoke logger that recorded everyone’s daily activities. He didn’t see it as spying, more like a worried father checking up on a wayward teenage daughter, keeping her safe within his home.
He knew others would not see it that way and would cry about their civil rights or some such bullshit, and they would be right. Which was why he was the only one who knew about it. There were a lot of things that the employees of DoD didn’t know about and that was the way he liked it—much like the public didn’t know half of the things their government had gotten involved in. Ignorance was bliss, as they say.
It had been quite some time since he had done this type of data entry and would usually leave it for his assistant to do but the file’s contents were sensitive. No one else was allowed to see what went into the folder marked
‘
Sundown
.’
It was for his eyes only. Well, his and the President of the United States, along with the National Security Advisor, and a few others high up within the White House, those who often sat in on the discussions in the Oval Office.
Sundown had taken months to research and implement and was currently the foremost security protocol for the United States. The ideas had already become law and regulation in most of the country’s fifty states.
He continued to enter the information. This was no trial run; the future of the country sat before him, and must be kept away from prying eyes and those who would use the contents of the file against them. The information included contingency plans for events such as acts of terrorism and Armageddon.
He finalized the file, entering the data in numerical format, then closed it, adding the security protection to the folder and saving it to the Pentagon’s central mainframe. He buried it deep beneath the budgets and fire evacuation forms where it would be safe. His job was to protect the information in the file with his life. There was no other option. If someone stole the contents of Sundown and sold it, or used the data for their own means, the effects could be catastrophic. The country would be defenseless against attack.
He shook his head, unable to agree with the decision makers on that subject. He didn’t like that their country’s safety sat in one plan—in one file. He certainly didn’t like the fact that everything had been carefully detailed in the file. But he had been overruled.
He only prayed that Sundown would remain hidden, buried deep down inside the mainframe where no one would ever find it.
Three Months Later…
Somewhere over the Atlantic
The Rossiya Airline Boeing 767 plane travelled through turbulence, and Dmitry Ivanov gripped the armrest of his chair, hard, trying to relax. He inhaled deeply then exhaled slowly, thinking of anything but the fact that he was thirty-five thousand feet in the air, relying on the engineering of the plane to hold, the engine to remain in working order, and a well-trained pilot at the controls. His brain worked hard to handle the stress, taking in the specs of the plane and brought them together revealing how a plane was able to soar across the open sky.
He began comparing or breaking down information logically, trying to find solace. Dmitry hated flying and he especially hated turbulence. He could feel the contents of his stomach churn as sweat beaded on his forehead. He dabbed at his face with the napkin leftover from dinner. His friend, Ivan Anisimov, chuckled from where he sat beside him in the cramped economy section.
Dmitry glared at him, not daring to move much in case it caused the tasteless airplane food to return.
“Can it, man,” he snapped.
Ivan grinned, the bastard enjoying his suffering. He’d never been much of a flyer and Ivan was always happy to point it out. He’d known Ivan since they were small boys. Up until the age of sixteen, when they discovered girls, they had been inseparable. Ivan’s goal had always been to make a quick buck, having tried every scheme possible. Unfortunately, he never had much luck or enough money, at least until recently when he and Dmitry had started a business together. Using Dmitry’s computer expertise and Ivan’s fast talking, they were doing really well and it was completely legal—a new detail for Ivan.
While their business had been mostly contained in Russia, with a few odd jobs in the Ukraine and Estonia, this was the first time in which they had been requested to cross the Atlantic Ocean. While the job sounded interesting, and he could play tourist once it was completed, Dmitry began second guessing the decision.
He placed his palm on his stomach and prayed he would not embarrass himself by throwing up. They were six hours into the flight, after catching a connecting flight in Paris before continuing toward Washington D.C. Another five hours would pass before they touched down at Dulles International Airport. He hoped he wouldn’t have any lasting ill effects, since they had a meeting at eight the next morning.
It would be their first international job. He and Ivan were still in the process of building up their business, and reputation meant everything to the type of people Dmitry wanted to attract. Tomorrow had to run smoothly. He still had no idea how Ivan had managed to sweet-talk the clients into bringing them over from Russia—all expenses paid—when a local company could have done the same work they were asking for. He wasn’t about to argue. The client planned to expand their small business, and if they played their cards right, hopefully they would give them a glowing recommendation, allowing them to go farther in their own industry.
Dmitry closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He didn’t usually like to waste valuable time; he could be working on one of his many trademark firewalls or security programs. But the motion of the airplane wasn’t conducive to concentrating, and his laptop screen would more than likely make him even sicker.
Some four hours later, he remained wide awake. He had begun reviewing code in his head after he found that sleep was evading him. Making internal notes of what he would need to fix or update when he got a chance. Ones and zeros rotated about in his mind.
He never knew where the talent for computers had come from. His sister, Elena, certainly wasn’t technology-minded. He had just been born with the gift and used it to his advantage, the elite programming appearing in his head while he slept.
The fasten seat-belt sign came on and he felt the landing gears beneath them extend. He let out a calming breath as the pilot began the descent. Thank God for that. Any longer and they would have had a crazy person on board. Beside him, Ivan sat up in his seat and wiped the drool from his mouth. The man could sleep anywhere.
“We there yet?” Ivan asked, sounding groggy. He yawned, his jaw cracking.
Dmitry shook his head. “Almost.”
“Get any sleep?” Ivan glanced at him with a critical eye.
Dmitry wondered fleetingly what he looked like; it couldn’t have been pretty after the eighteen hours of airsickness he had just suffered through. “No, not yet. I’m too wired. That, and the airsickness didn’t exactly let me rest.”
Ivan nodded, clearly understanding through the haze of sleep. He was beginning to wake up. “Well, we’ll be at the hotel soon and you can rest there.”
The thud of the tires against the tarmac had his muscles relaxing. About time. He was about to go stir crazy. He might be a bit claustrophobic. It would certainly explain some things. As soon as the seat-belt sign turned off, Dmitry shot out of his seat. He collected his carry-on and was halfway down the aisle before Ivan had even stood.
Another forty-five minutes, and he got through customs and immigration. Another twenty and he and Ivan were driving out of Budget Car Rentals in a black Ford Focus. Ivan took the wheel and turned on the GPS. Ivan never asked for directions, but had always been comfortable letting a computer tell him where to go. Dmitry refrained from commenting as he listened to the computerized voice telling Ivan to continue east on I-66 toward the center of D.C., and eventually to the Marriot Hotel near Dupont Circle where he and Ivan would be staying. Their route bypassed the White House, and if it hadn’t been so late in the evening he would have asked Ivan to make a detour and drive down Pennsylvania Avenue so he could have a look. But instead, they continued on, weaving through the late night traffic.
Outside, the scenery blurred as they sped by, the landscape so different from home it was almost alien. Dmitry had lived in Moscow his entire life. He and Elena’s parents were working class who had done everything they could to further their children’s lives and education. Unfortunately for them, they had passed away before either of them could see the successes their children became.
Ivan slowed the car as they neared a fender bender, merging into the lane beside them when it was clear that the motorists required no help from them. Dmitry leaned back in his seat. He had known he would be coming here, but the reality of it had only begun to sink in. He’d always thought he would visit Elena in D.C., but she hadn’t moved there like he’d anticipated. He took a deep breath, letting the polluted smog-filled air into his lungs, and for the first time was happy about it. He’d had enough of breathing in the regulated stale airplane oxygen.
He thought about what he needed to do and wondered if he would get a chance to take a look around Washington before he flew back home. Maybe he could tell Elena what she’d been missing. He already had a list of things he wanted to see, such as the Ford Theatre and Lincoln Memorial. The Washington Monument was also featured. He only hoped that this job wouldn’t take up the entire week.
The Marriot was a large brownstone. An attendant stood at the check-in desk, despite their late arrival. The young man appeared bright and chipper—probably due to the coffee cup sitting on the desk. He quickly found their reservation, and handed them a couple of electronic swipe keys. The two double beds in their shared room, however uninviting with their floral designs, were the best things he had seen in a long time.
He made his way to the bed furthest from the door and dropped his luggage down between the bed and wall. He opened the nearby window, letting in the city air as he looked out at Washington’s nightlife. The pretty lights failed to excite him. He was utterly exhausted from the flight. On the other hand, Ivan appeared well-rested, his eyes alight with mischief.
“So are you up for hitting the streets of D.C.?” he asked. “Doing some partying, hopefully also some American woman?”
He shook his head. “
Nyet
, I want to be fresh for the morning. You go ahead. I’m just going to call Elena before I crash.”
His sister worried a lot about him these days, having lost her husband to a traitor and then a potential lover to his home country. She feared losing him, too. Since their parents had died, he and Elena were the only family either of them had left.
Ivan shrugged. “Okay, but you don’t know what you’re missing.”
He knew exactly what he was missing, and was quite happy to stay at the hotel. He and Ivan’s tastes were entirely different and he, for one, had never woken up in a foreign jail cell sleeping off the night before, with no recollection as to what he’d done that caused him to be arrested.
“I’m sure I can guess,” he said, yawning. “And if not, you’ll certainly tell me. See you in the morning.”
Ivan gave him an exaggerated wink. “All right. I’ll try to keep it down when I get back.”
He turned toward the adjoined bathroom to prepare himself for lady catching. He had an entire routine he completed before heading out on the town, all in an attempt to maximize his return. Ivan left broken hearts in his wake, or at least a trail of one-night stands and names and faces he would never remember. Ivan’s last long-term relationship lasted about two weeks.
Dmitry flopped down on his bed and stretched out. He lifted the hotel’s handset and dialed the international number. Moscow was eight hours ahead of D.C., so he hoped to catch Elena before she left for work as a liaison officer for SVR, Russia’s version of the CIA. She had worked at the Yasenevo office for over five years now, and had married her then supervisor Nikolai Nagregor shortly after joining the agency. Their bliss had been short lived; two years ago, Nikolai had been murdered by a close friend and fellow agent. Dmitry hoped his sister would have another chance of happiness with CIA agent Lucas Gates, who had followed a terrorist to Russia where he met Elena. But eighteen months later, she remained in Moscow and Lucas stayed in America. Dmitry had often tried talking to Elena about him, but she always shut him down and changed the subject. His sister, the Queen of Denial.
The phone rang in his ear and kicked over to Elena’s voicemail. He must have just missed her.
Dmitry cleared his throat before speaking after the beep. “Hi, Elena, sorry I missed you. Just letting you know I arrived safely. I’m at the Marriot now, about to hit the sack. Talk to you later.”
He hung up the phone, deciding to try her again later if he found the time and if he remembered. The important thing was that she knew he’d gotten there safely. He had already organized a wake-up call with the front desk, not wanting to rely on his cell to wake him. He knew he would more than likely hit the snooze button if it was left up to him. They couldn’t be late for their meeting; it was too important.
He yanked off his shoes and crawled beneath the covers, not bothering to brush his teeth before bed. It was past midnight and he could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He was asleep within minutes and didn’t even stir when Ivan exited the bathroom and left the room.