Project Sparta (The Xander Whitt Series Book 1) (25 page)

Chapter 46

The National Mall

Washington, DC

July 4
th
2016

The blue of twilight colored the air of the National Mall as thousands of people gathered for the biggest fireworks show in the city. Families with kids laid out blankets, college kids brought coolers of beer and big red plastic cups. Uncle Sam hats, red-white-and-blue shirts, and miniature flags bobbed and waved over the sea of people. The festivities were in full swing and anticipation mounted as the sky turned down its lights for the show. An aura of patriotism circulated with the summer breeze overhead as civilians reflected on their freedom and the prices paid for it. Symphonic melodies came from the east end, where an orchestra played an old patriotic tune. The strings, brass, and woodwinds fanned out in a semicircle while the percussion lined the back of the orchestra. The conductor waved his arms dramatically, almost as if he were dancing to the music. It was all backed by the towering Capitol Building, draped in American flags.

Through the scope of her sniper rifle, Ashton roamed the red-white-and-blue crowd for any sign of suspicious activity. She stood perched at the window atop the Washington Monument, closed for repairs since a minor quake had weakened its foundation. Scanning the crowd and the entrances to the Smithsonian museums lining the Mall, she spoke into a comm mic.

“This is the Eye in the Sky, all clear here.”

«————————»

Ashton’s call rang through Tobias’s earpiece. He was sitting in the van, parked alongside the next block. They had painted it a navy blue in his garage and changed out the license plates. Sitting in the back, he had schematics, blueprints, notes, diagrams, and the stone box itself laid out before him. Tobias wiped the sweat beads from his temples as his brain churned into fifth gear, his fist tightened on the pencil as it drew out the chess pieces in play.

“Mac, if you were to d-d-defect from P-P-Project Sparta and plan a massive t-t-terrorist attack on the United States Capitol, and you had it p-p-p-pinned down to one of the museums on the Mall on July f-f-fourth, which one would you p-p-pick?” A few chuckles sounded throughout the comm line. A break in the chuckles led Tobias’s eyes to a line of notes before him.

I’ve left you enough breadcrumbs to follow.

The words from Agent Zero’s conversation with Xander jumped off his page of notes. A gravity weighed on him, and his tone turned grim.

“We are missing something,” Tobias murmured to himself.

«————————»

“Yes, we are,”
Mac responded, kneeling over a small duffel bag in the lobby of the Air and Space Museum. Mac consulted his left shoulder to check that he was covered from the outside public. He pulled out his .22 Smith and Wesson. Model spacecraft hung overhead, suspended from the rafters of the exhibit hall. A sleek black jet with the NASA logo marking its tail hung at an angle as if it were zooming overhead. He began his sweep of the museum.

“Sweeping,” he said into his sleeve.

«————————»

“Good,” Xander responded outside, running point amid the masses of people on the lawn. The typical onlooker wouldn’t notice his firearms concealed under his denim jacket. He surveyed the faces of the people before him, oblivious to their immediate danger but aware of the attacks of the past week. He swept the crowd for any suspicious attendees, combing each person from head to toe for any inkling of a firearm or explosive device. Then Xander saw something.

Sparks flew next to him.

Something had been ignited.

His hand reached for his 9mm.

He began to draw it, but stopped before it came out from under his jacket at the sound of a giggling cheer. Xander’s roving eye located a child holding a lit sparkler. He deposited his pistol back in his holster and breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his role call.

“Seamus, are you in position?”

«————————»

“Yeah, I’m here.” Seamus walked through the National History Museum and emerged onto the second floor balcony looking over the vast entrance rotunda lined by white columns. Down in the center of the lobby was a large Elephant, frozen in a walking pose.

“I don’t see anything in here. All is quiet on the Western Front. But I’ll keep looking.”

Seamus eyed the front door and then jogged past the Hope Diamond exhibit and back into an exhibit hall out of sight.

«————————»

Jooles crept forward through the American History Museum, with a Colt M1911 pistol. A noise suppressor was fastened to the semi-automatic’s barrel. She looked up at the massive American flag mural on the high front wall above the welcome desk. It was a rectangular collage of metal panes that came together to form a reflective replica of the American flag entitled “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

She scanned the lobby for cover positions, exits, and a route into the recesses of the museum. The covert checklist was interrupted as she heard commotion down the hall and around the corner of the west wing of the museum.

“We got movement in the AHM,” she spoke up her sleeve.

Jooles crept forward toward a sign located at the base of the west stairwell that said, Private Event. She saw a tipsy but otherwise clean-cut man and an aggressive woman in a tight black dress rounding the banister. They flirted all over each other as they stumbled down the last couple of steps, spilling their champagne. They leaned on each other for support as they laughed down the hallway toward a dark corner for privacy. They didn’t notice Jooles squatting behind a large planter. She whispered into her mic.

“Xander, there is a private, formal event on the fifth floor of the AHM,” she said in hushed tones from her cover.

“What kind of party? Why didn’t we have that intel?”

“There wasn’t anything listed!” Mac chimed over the comm channel in defense of his research.

“I’ll investigate,” Jooles said as her eyes narrowed in on the couple staggering down the hallway.

“Let me know, when you get something.”

Jooles jumped from her cover like a cat and stalked her prey down the long corridor. She was an expert in stealth, naturally light on her feet and more in tune with her senses than the average person. She worked her way quickly down the dimly lit hall. The couple ahead continued to stumble, reckless and drunk, making her furtive approach an easier feat. The man had a salt-and-pepper comb-over while the woman was a blond trophy with a slit up her dress that would make eyes turn.

They turned the corner and pushed open a door, lips already locked. They burst into a small, dark exhibit room that displayed the original Star-Spangled Banner. The large flag was tethered but in decent condition considering what it had been through.

Having finally found privacy, the couple’s advances only grew more passionate. They slammed up against the glass that separated the observation deck from the exhibit. Jooles was able to catch the door before it shut. She slipped in unnoticed and cloaked herself in the shadow of the dimly lit space. She shook her head in disbelief. They had cornered themselves.

Easy picking.

The kissing had turned to a sloppy make out and they began groping each other like teenagers in the back of a movie theater. As the couple became more heated, they became less aware of their surroundings, allowing Jooles to creep forward unnoticed. Heavy breaths muted her steps and their closed eyes kept her invisible. When she was three feet away she lunged forward and drove the butt of her M1911 into the man’s temple. He fell limp immediately, unconscious. The woman opened her mouth to scream but the barrel of the gun rose quickly to silence her.

“You will swallow this bullet if you make a sound,” Jooles gnarled. It took a moment for the blonde to know what was going on, but as the situation became clear she obeyed, knowing it was her only chance of survival.

“You are going to do exactly as I say or I will squeeze this trigger and end your pretty little life. Now nod if you understand me,” Jooles growled a threat from behind her clenched jaws. The woman bobbed her head up and down in firm agreement as terrified fear streamed over her cheekbones.

Jooles rummaged through the man’s pockets until her hand found something—an access card attached to a belt clip. The man’s picture, name, and the words
State Department
were emblazoned on the card’s face. It then dawned on Jooles, as she turned to the blonde, who was trying to salvage her appearance.

“Is that party for the State Department?” Jooles asked. A fearful nod replied. Upon confirmation, she spoke into her sleeve.

“Xander, get over here now. I think I may have something,” she directed in her most forthright tone.

“Copy that. En route,” he responded.

“I need your dress, and while you’re at it…why don’t you finish the job you started and strip him down, too.” Jooles retreated to the corner so the woman couldn’t hear as she spoke into her mic.

“I have located a possible target. The American History Museum is having a private party for the State Department. Tobias, run the name Michael Sanders,” she instructed reading the name on the access card.

«————————»

Tobias swept a blueprint off the desk and positioned the computer connected to an uplink square in front of him. He typed through the server directories until he located a Michael Sanders. He quickly scanned the contents of his profile.

“Michael Sanders, Director of Eastern Clandestine Services,” Tobias said into the headset.

“That’s vague. This must be a party for the higher-ups in clandestine services, those bureaucrats that kiss each other’s asses for a living. The kind of people we don’t like. But if it’s the intelligence community, that’s probably why it wasn’t officially listed,” Mac speculated.

Tobias computed all that he heard and shuffled through the blueprints. He found the American History Museum and located a large balcony on the schematics, perfect for a view of the fireworks behind the Washington Monument.

“Why the hell weren’t we invited?” Ashton chimed in, but Tobias’s brain kept churning.

“W-w-wait, wait, w-wait…” Tobias said. “What d-d-did you j-just say?”

“I said, why weren’t we invited?” Ashton responded.

“No, not you, M-m-mac! Wh-wh-what did you just say?” Tobias stuttered as his cognition intensified.

“I said the reception seems to be for the higher-ups of clandestine service, those bureaucrats that kiss one another’s asses for a living,” Mac repeated.

Tobias’s eyes stopped and locked in on the stone box underneath the schematic drawings. He snapped it open and retrieved the crystal, pursuing an unsettling suspicion. He flipped his lamp around and shined it on the inside wall of the van, placing the diamond in the light rays to project the message.

July 4t
h

The words took a new shape in his mind.

“Oh my God… the target,” he said.

“Tobias, which museum is the target? Have you found something?” Xander asked. Tobias gazed, wide-eyed at the words
July 4tH
. He did not respond.

Ashton’s question echoed from the day before.

Why is the H capitalized?

Tobias raised a hand and covered the middle of the word to reveal only two remaining capitalized letters.

J              H

“It’s not a museum,” Tobias said, finally understanding the implication of those two letters. “The two capitalized letters are J and H. It’s not a museum, it’s a person. The target is Jackson Hardy.”

Tobias relayed the probable motive.

“Agent Zero wants revenge for what happened in Project Sparta.”

«————————»

Jackson Hardy inhaled a gust of the fresh summer air that hovered over the long, green pasture of the National Mall. As he surveyed the crowd, he reflected on the holiday and how much it meant to him. He had made difficult sacrifices and was known for taking the jobs no one had the stomach for—including Project Sparta. Now he was fully immersed in the political world, Scotch in hand. Looking upon the red, white, and blue crowd below, Hardy cracked a smile, excited for it all to get started.

Chapter 47

The Compound

June 11
th
2011

The scalpel struck the wooden table, right between Fiona’s fingers as the show for the camera continued. Fiona wailed in pain, acting as if it had stabbed her hand. Xander pointed the scalpel at her and continued his calm, yet assertive interrogation.

“You’re a traitor, Fiona!” his voice rose in volume, ensuring the camera could hear him.

“No, I’m not! Xander, you have no idea what you are talking about!” Her plea became more defiant and direct.

“Then tell me why you were tracking me,” he screamed.

“I told you, I can’t, Xander! I’m under strict orders!”

The pounding on the door continued.

“From who?” Xander carefully and discretely untied the restraints from her arm. He then walked up to the middle of room and threw a bedpan up at the camera.

“Is it you, Hardy? Huh? You son of a bitch! You traitor, get your ass down here and face me yourself!”

The door flung open and Captain Axle barged in.

“Xander, what the hell are you doing? Stand down!” Axle’s muscles pulsated in anger as he approached Xander. Fiona quietly got out of bed and crept behind Axle.

“You need to learn to respect your superiors, Spartan.”

Xander’s demeanor changed immediately. He was no longer acting for the camera, he had flushed out an instructor.

“I know about the C-4,” Xander fired at him. Axle stopped on his heels, surprised by Xander’s words but not denying them. “I know that you have been directed to kill Fiona. And guess what?” Xander paused and smiled. “She does too.” At that moment, Fiona swung a bedpan at the back of Axle’s head. The impact was hard, causing Axle to fall into Xander. The fight ensued, and Fiona retreated into the back of the Infirmary. Axle swung a disoriented right hook at Xander. He ducked and sent a sidekick straight into Axle’s gut, knocking the wind from the man’s lungs. Axle charged, tackling Xander to the ground. A caustic pain shot from Xander’s kidneys. Axle’s mass proved to be too much to grapple with as Xander was pinned to the Infirmary floor.

And then Axle’s clenched muscles fell limp.

His weight pressed upon Xander, not with force but with weakness. Xander was able to push the unconscious captain off of him. He saw Fiona with an emptied syringe in her hand.

“A sedative?”

She shrugged. “They taught us to use the elements.” He embraced her and gave her a kiss on the forehead, to which she smiled an expression of pure joy.

She does have feelings for me…she didn’t fake that.

Xander smiled for a moment as his heart leaped in his chest. They only allowed themselves a few moments and then returned to business immediately. Xander knelt over Axle and rummaged through his pockets.

“I broke into Hardy’s office last night. There was an email to Axle instructing him to kill you because I had seen you observing me and trying to make a drop. Now you have got to tell me, why did you do that?” Xander asked, while pulling out Axle’s keycard.

“Hardy told me to record everything about you and make a weekly drop. I have no idea why.”

“They played us against each other. One of us would oust the other and the loser would be disposed of.”

Fiona stopped, shocked by Xander’s assertion. “They wouldn’t do that. That’s going too far,” she objected.

“They planned to plant C-4 around your house. Sound familiar?”

“Oh my God… Ezra.”

Xander nodded as she connected the dots. He pulled Axle’s handgun from his waistband and pocketed a few magazines he had found on him.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Let’s go.” He cocked the gun and they jogged out of the Infirmary, Xander’s gun raised to eye level, ready for anything.

They crossed the Compound floor with no problem until they reached halfway. An alarm went off. The image of the sky on the dome turned to a flashing light and a horn blared over the intercom in addition to Anni’s simulated voice.

“Alert. Alert. Code Black. Code Black. Security, man your posts immediately. Alert. Alert. Code Black…” Anni repeated the message over the alarm.

Xander and Fiona picked up the pace despite the added difficulty of seeing where they were going due to the flashing lights. They arrived at the Barracks and turned down the lane. They burst through Xander’s door and entered his house. He approached the bookshelf and swiped Axle’s keycard in the slot. The bookshelf swung off the wall, revealing a dark stairwell that descended into the tunnels below the Compound.

“Are you ready?” Xander looked over to Fiona as they stood shoulder to shoulder. She nodded gravely, probably scared of what would come next if they managed to survive the night.

“Let’s go!” Fiona answered.

They started down the stairwell.

The tunnel was illuminated in red due to the flashing alarms. Xander smelled the stale, musty air trapped in the aged basement. The corridors were lined with cement foundations and archways. Different passages branched off at different points, but Xander remained on the main passage, gun readied, covering Fiona who followed closely behind.

As they progressed through the passage, a distant sign became visible in the distance. The sign hung above the door at the end of the hall and read Exit.

“There’s our ticket,” Xander yelled. But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, because, thanks to Anni’s announcement, security had been dispatched. What kind of security, Xander did not know but he expected the worst as he continued to move through the tunnel. As they crossed an intersection, something caught the corner of his eye.

He turned.

But it was gone.

They continued again until Fiona’s grip tightened on Xander’s shoulder, pulling him back.

“Xander, look out!” Xander turned to meet a man dressed in full SWAT tactical gear. Without even processing it, Xander fired off a round into the man’s chest. The man locked eyes with Xander momentarily and then succumbed to the wound and dropped dead.

Xander froze in disbelief. He looked down at his steady hand, holding the gun. Fiona stopped and brought a hand up to his shoulder.

“What?” she asked, still on edge from their escape.

“That’s the first man I’ve ever killed.” Although mentally he had to digest it, he was surprised that he was emotionally okay. He felt no remorse or regret. He had a job to do—he was going to save Fiona’s life, and whoever stood in his way was endangering her life.

“Are you okay?” Fiona asked, clutching his arm.

“Yeah,” Xander responded, still staring down at the body on the floor. “Let’s go.”

He turned and they continued down a different corridor, taking a side passage to travel more discretely through the tunnels. Two SWAT team members turned from a wall ahead and fired off rounds toward them. They spun and took cover behind an archway, which opened up into a chamber. Xander remembered his training, breathed, and prepared for attack. After letting the oncoming fire dwindle, he turned and fired well-aimed shots at the men.

One of them men squatted as he reloaded a magazine in his assault rifle, leaving his knee exposed. Xander caught the knee with a bullet and the man dropped. Xander fired another round into his chest and then rolled to the angle necessary to take out the second man.

At that moment, the alarm changed tone and Anni’s voice shifted.

“Alert. Alert. The Compound is now in Lockdown.”

Xander saw a metal door lowering through one of the brick archways ahead. At that sight, Xander yanked Fiona and together they sprinted toward it. They closed in thirty feet from it, while it was only three feet from the ground and still lowering. They sprinted with a new burst of speed and then slid feet first, clearing the metal door by an inch before it closed behind them. After a few moments, the alarm stopped altogether. The red lights stopped flashing, the horns stopped blaring. They were now in a dusty basement corridor illuminated by a few dim fluorescents hanging from the ceiling. Some of the lights hanging from the tunnel ceilings flickered, casting an eerie glow over them.

Xander heard a shuffle to his nine o’clock and instinctually spun to fire. One solo shot soared through the chamber into a SWAT member’s chest. He dropped immediately. Xander heard another man farther down the tunnels and snapped a new magazine in his handgun. He crept to his left, taking the long away around to meet the man from behind. His footsteps light, his pace quick, Xander saw the SWAT member turn from his cover and pursue Fiona. The man fired off multiple rounds toward Fiona.

“No!” Xander popped out quick and fired three shots into the man’s back. The man dropped and Xander sprinted to Fiona, who had fallen to the ground. A wave of relief came over Xander as she did not appear to be hit.

“He missed. Something’s not right. He missed on purpose. He had me, and he shot four rounds into that wall.” She got to her feet.

“Maybe he’s a bad shot.”

“No. Something is not right,” she said with certainty. With an eerie feeling in their footsteps, they continued toward the Exit sign. After a hundred feet of swift jogging, they had arrived. Outside the door, a series of crates and barrels lined the wall. Atop the crate was a lantern, a wad of clothes, and a scribbled-on crossword. Xander scanned them, as they were the only items in the tunnels, and then lifted his hand to the doorknob and turned it.

The door swung open.

Before them was a large surveillance room with hundreds of small screens and a large control panel. A flight of stairs ascended to the Compound floor. The interior of the room was nicer than the tunnels they had just emerged from. It resembled a small NASA launch control center. Xander could see the surveillance feeds monitored the Compound floor, each recruit’s house, and each classroom. Every inch of the Compound was being watched. Fiona and Xander’s eyes quickly dropped from the surveillance feeds to the one person in the room, casually waiting for them.

It was Jackson Hardy.