From Filth & Mud (14 page)

Aiden was immediately taken by Tovarich’s skill and braggadocio and he knew that he had to add him to his team; Collier Analytics’ ‘
Murderers’ Row
’. He began putting out feelers in Darknet sites throughout Eastern Europe. In fact, he did something extremely reckless. Aiden posted an encrypted file onto several sites that Tovarich frequented and issued an equally encrypted challenge. The deciphered message simply read, “Break it and I buy you a Ferrari.” Sure enough, the bait worked. The next day, Aiden received a message in his personal email account which read. “458 Italia, krasnaya”. Aiden immediately called the Ferrari dealership in Moscow and ordered a 458 Italia in Ferrari Racing Red.

Jacob’s first assignment for XPS, Special Services Division, was straightforward enough.  His team was to escort the client to First Union Bank which sat in the heart of Boston’s financial district. Once inside, Jacob would escort the client to the safety deposit box to retrieve the package: a nondescript case of unknown origin with equally unknown contents. Once the package was confirmed, Jacob would tag it with a proprietary, inconspicuous tracking device that XPS had managed to obtain from one of its many connections in the hush-hush world of military contractors. The device was applied as a spray-on aerosol that would harden into an almost invisible film made from microscopic carbon-fiber strands. These strands formed a unique barcode that would be used to verify the package. Once that was completed, Jacob would escort the client and the package to their destination: a freighter docked at the shipping docks near Castle Island.

The preplanned route was exactly three point seven miles door to door from the First Union Bank branch in Boston’s financial district to the shipping docks near Castle Island. The package pickup would occur at 9:15 a.m., allowing the bank staff a few minutes to get up and running. Since the pickup was being executed first thing in the morning, they would have to navigate what remained of Boston’s infamous rush hour traffic. The trip would take approximately thirty-five minutes. Walking would have been just as fast, maybe even faster.
Ten minute miles
, Jacob thought, even at forty he could jog the distance in his suit and wingtips without breaking a sweat. However, the armored SUV gave him and the client protection against most threats, unlikely as they might be. The SUV’s windows were designed to protect against ten shots of .50 Caliber rounds fired from a standard Barrett M107A1 sniper rifle, and its doors could take twice that many hits before being compromised. They were also rated to sustain impacts from multiple rocket-propelled grenades. The floor of the SUV could withstand improvised explosive devices and shaped charges due to its top-of-the-line reactive armor. The gas tank was encased in self-sealing epoxy foam that would heal itself within one one-hundredth of a second of being pierced. The reaction was so fast that it would not allow a single drop of gasoline to escape the tank. The air exchange would be so minute that any spark that might be ignited by a round breaching the tank would be extinguished instantaneously.

Jacob activated his communication device: a small earbud that fit snuggly in the ear canal and worked as a receiver and microphone. He quickly checked on the rest of the team. Everyone was in place. Doug was in a large, gray sedan parked a few blocks away near King’s Chapel. Tanner was posted near Pier 17 where the Tanex Panamax cargo ship was docked. The ship would shove off the pier in two hours and steam toward Reykjavik, Iceland where they would rendezvous with a second XPS team that would escort them the rest of the way to Cyprus. Tanner had paid the captain of the ship five-thousand dollars to ensure that their client and package were aboard before the ship steamed off. The money also ensured that neither was listed on the manifest, of course. With their exfiltration route covered, it was just a matter of getting the client and package safely across Boston.

Jacob was confident in his plan because he had planned it meticulously. His team had rehearsed it dozens of times, until he felt that they all knew their roles, and those of every other team member. They were professionals and his insistence on repetition was not a reflection of his lack of confidence in them. His intensity may have made his team a little uneasy—at least Odin and Tanner seemed to be—but he would never risk operational security for comfort. He did not want anyone else to die under his command.

As he sat in the idling SUV, Jacob visualized the day’s course of events to the last meticulous detail, but for all of his confidence, he could not get over the fact that he had no idea what, or who, he would be escorting. The client, Katerina Minakova, was as Russian as her name sounded. Her accent was heavy, hammering on every consonant of her otherwise impeccable English. Jacob had read the scant file that XPS had provided about her. Ms. Minakova was a gem broker with a boutique jewelry firm in Manhattan; diamonds and platinum were its specialty. Jacob had his suspicions about the efficacy of the diamonds—conflict no doubt—, but who was to say? His job was to get her to her property and then on to her destination.

Jacob nodded to Katerina who was sitting stoically by his side in the rear of the SUV. “Let’s go.”

The two of them, both elegant in their professional work attire, emerged from the subsurface parking lot on Boylston Street and merged with the river of white-collars that flowed to their cubicles. It was 8:45 a.m. The SUV pulled up along the sidewalk on State Street at 9:10 a.m. and idled. At exactly 9:15 a.m., the dapper couple strode into the First Union Bank. Jacob pushed through the revolving doors and entered into the high-columned, marbled lobby. The bank was a throwback to the gilded age of building design, emoting opulence from every angle. The brass railings were highly polished. The marble had been imported from Italy. The columns towered above them as if hoisting the firmament to make room for the wealth that lay within.

Katerina’s stilettos clicked conspicuously against the marble floor, sending the sound echoing throughout the grand lobby. Jacob’s gate was muted: controlled. He kept close to her as they moved. Katerina instantly attracted the attention of everyone in the bank, especially the men, who responded as if Pavlov had rung a bell. They were soon politely approached by an eager and young, assistant manager who inquired as to how he could be of service on this
fine
morning. He showed them to a side office on the main floor: his reward for a recent promotion. Now seated, the assistant manager fought hard not to look at Katerina’s breasts which were perfectly framed by the plunging neckline of her rouge blouse. His eyes shot downward self-consciously only to be met by a lithe pair of exposed legs that were posed in such a way that Katerina’s upper-thighs lay invitingly in the shadow of her front-slit midi skirt.

Katerina explained to the eager, young man that she would very much like to access her security deposit box. The young man stood self-consciously, and asked Katerina to join him in the vault. He apologized to Jacob, and informed him that he could not join them as Ms. Minakova was listed as the box’s sole owner. Jacob was about to object but Katerina cut him off. Katerina and the assistant manager disappeared from sight. Jacob knew that he would have to be patient for the next ten minutes. The security deposit safe was inaccessible without raising suspicion. Tim had conducted reconnaissance on the bank several days earlier and had discovered that there was not an inch of the bank that was not constantly monitored by cameras. Jacob tried not to show his concern when five more minutes passed. He scanned the interior of the bank more so to avoid worrying about the time, than to heighten his situational awareness. If anything were to happen, the threat would come from the building’s entrance. Tim was perched in an overwatch position covering the rear entrance of the bank from the rooftop of the adjacent building. Doug and the rest were positioned at various points throughout the route to ensure safe passage. The mental exercise finally calmed him.

Katerina emerged two long minutes later. She thanked the assistant manager and glided away with her handbag secured tightly under her elbow. Jacob met her at the shoulder as the pair exited. They walked a block, until Doug alerted him that they were clear of any followers. He acknowledged, and instructed Doug to pick them up at the next intersection. The pair rejoined the flow of white-collars which provided ideal cover as they quickly hopped into the gray sedan and melted away into Boston traffic.

The sedan steadily made its way through the undulating, nonsensical streets of Boston, the cabin hushed to the din of the outside world. Jacob looked at his watch and confirmed that they were on schedule. He remained silent while the voices from his team continuously updated the route in the imperceptible earbuds that had been custom molded to his ear canals. The earbud itself was made of a carbon-plastic composite that provided resonating and transmitting capabilities without the need of any metal unlike conventional earbuds. They were designed to pick up the subtle vibrations and resonance of the wearer’s vocal chords and sinuses, and transmit those through a specific radio frequency to other synced devices on the same frequency. The fidelity was so true that Jacob still had to assure himself that he was not going crazy when in fact he was just hearing voices in his head. He had been assured that he would become accustomed to the devices soon enough. There was a little part of him that worried about their safety, especially since they used his head as a transmission and receiving antenna, but again he was assured by XPS’ tech-gurus that his worries were unfounded.

Besides making him doubt his sanity from time to time, the earbuds also served as hearing protection. They would actively filter out high-decibel sounds such as gunshots, and allow for communication between team members during live-fire training and in a firefight, if necessary. He had been impressed by their performance at the Roanoke facility’s shoot-houses where they had given him the ability to communicate with his team without having to shout over the din of the gunplay.

“We’re clear up ahead. It looks good for the next mile,” Tim announced.

“How’s our ETA to make the boat?” Jacob asked.

“Fifteen mikes.”

“Roger. Boat’s standing by awaiting your delivery,” Tanner relayed from the docks.

“Good to go. Stay frosty gents we’ll be able to put this one to bed soon.” Jacob let himself relax momentarily. No hitches and no surprises, just how he’d planned. Katerina on the other hand looked more nervous than when they had started the mission. She sat quietly next to him clutching her handbag which she kept away from him, across her body. Jacob offered some calming words, but Katerina’s tense smile betrayed her concern.

Tim’s voice broke the uneasy cabin silence. “Looks like you may have a possible Victor following you about three cars back on your left. It’s a gray sedan. BMW.”

“Roger. I need some info on that vehicle.” Jacob’s heartrate increased quickly.

“Two men driving, shades, collared-shirts, they look like feds. I noticed them a few blocks back. They look like they’ve got comms with someone else but I can’t spot another car.” Tim was behind Jacob’s sedan in a beige Beetle and looked every part the Bostonian college kid. The Beetle was plastered with rainbows, Darwin fish, and meat-is-murder vegan propaganda, so it blended in quite nicely.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just hang back and see how close they get. Everyone else, we’re moving on to Checkpoint Bravo.” Checkpoint Bravo was code for driving around in circles aimlessly like a lost tourist in the twisted streets of the colonial era city.

Jacob turned to Katerina who had remained silent throughout. “Were you expecting to be followed? Any idea
who
they are?”

Katerina cleared her throat attempting to disguise her worry. “Mr. Harrington, we deal in valuable commodities as you well know. There are many people who would like to steal these commodities in transit. That is why we hired your firm. We have never lost a shipment before, and we do not expect that we will lose this one today.” Katerina sat back against the seat and offered nothing further.

“Looks like they are staying on you so far,” Tim chimed in from the trailing Beetle.

“These guys might be serious Tangos. Get them off our six,” Jacob ordered.

“Roger that.” Tim’s giddiness came through clearly in the earbuds.

Jacob instructed Doug to turn on an adjacent street that took them through Tremont Street’s ritzy shopping thoroughfare. They then turned northwest toward the bustling Northeastern University campus. The pursuing vehicle followed them through the meandering route as the streets began to clutter with a mob of university coeds running to and from classes.

Doug slowed down at a changing yellow light and floored it through the red immediately as it changed. The pursuing vehicle was barricaded by a throng of students. The two passengers within, cursed and radioed their comrades who shadowed them in a white moving van on an adjacent street.

“
Dura!
” the passenger screamed and glared at the driver who was powerless against the horde of American children. Neither noticed the beige Beetle that pulled up alongside them blaring dance-pop music, until the jubilant young man lowered his windows and began to dance and sing along at the top of his lungs. The driver glared over at the feminine boy who was adorned in a hot-pink shirt, and was wearing a fedora with a peacock feather tucked into the band.

Vladimir gave the boy a look of a thousand deaths.