The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (32 page)

Bruce was breathing heavy. “We’re there to aid and serve the public, just like any other organization that upholds the law. There’s no sinister agenda, no giant conspiracy, and that’s the truth.”

The general sat down in his chair and placed his hands on his desk, fingers interlaced. “Let me tell you something about truth. Timing and patience are infinitely important. You can have all the truth and righteousness on your side. But if you’re in the minority—if your preaching falls on deaf ears willing to live in a world of lies...well then, your truths are liable to get you killed.”

“General, these actions will undercut the Legion’s influence and effectiveness at the political level. This is going to create a rift where there doesn’t need to be.”

“Well, now you are free to fully devote your time to help bridge that impending rift.”

Bruce gritted his teeth. “This is bull-
shit.
General.”
 

The general directed his hand to the door. “You are dismissed.
Mister
Kasparov.”
 

Bruce looked to Colonel Braggs. He shook his head. “It’s out of my hands, Bruce—I’m sorry.”

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” He solemnly walked out of the office and gently closed the door behind him.

***

The news had come as a shock to everyone. Bruce had returned back to the lodge and told Frank and Alex what had happened. Like Bruce, Frank was having a very difficult time processing this information. But for Bruce’s sake, he forced himself to repress his negativity. “C’mon, Bruce, let’s go out to a nice restaurant. Dinner, a few drinks—we’ll keep cool heads and figure this out. There’s gotta be something we can do.”

“Yeah, Dad, it’ll be good to just get out of the base and talk things over.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Their decision was final.” Bruce sighed. “Thanks for the dinner offer, but I’m just going to stay in tonight.”

Frank shrugged. “Okay, that’s perfectly fine; we can stay in for the night. I can set you up right here.” Frank opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and pulled out a bottle of liquor. He reached into the mini-fridge and withdrew a tray of ice.

“We can order a couple of pizzas for dinner,” Alex suggested.

Frank pointed at Alex. “
Excellent
idea.”

“Okay for pizza, Dad?”

Bruce forced a smile. “Yeah—sure.”

Frank lined up three glasses and popped ice cubes into them, one by one. He poured a liberal amount of scotch into each glass and handed them off to Alex and Bruce.

Alex took the glass, laughing. “I can’t drink this.”

“Just for today, you’re going to be old enough. Bruce, what do you say?” Frank asked.

Bruce rubbed his chin. “Make that drink last, Alex, ‘cause it’s the only one you’re getting all night.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah? Alrighty then.”

The three of them sat down on the beds and clinked their glasses together. Frank and Bruce finished theirs off in one gulp. Alex took a little sip and his face cringed. “Oh my god, this is awful...”

Frank laughed. “It’s an acquired taste.”

Bruce looked into his glass and swirled around the ice cubes. “You know, I actually don’t feel anything really...just numb all over. Kind of in a good way, if that makes sense. Like this is a new beginning—a new chapter, you know?”

“Well, that’s a really mature attitude to have about the situation. Bruce, I commend you. You’re a bigger man than I.” Frank refilled Bruce’s glass, along with his own. “I would’ve kicked in a door by now.”

“Whatever happens, Dad, things will work themselves out. They always do, somehow,” Alex said optimistically.

“Yeah.” Bruce raised his glass. “Here’s hoping.”

As the evening carried on into the late hours of the night, the bottle quickly emptied. Alex had the pleasure of hearing some of Bruce and Frank’s stories from their times together in the Special Forces. The pizzas they had ordered (Meatlover’s and Hawaiian) were inhaled between the three of them at an astonishing rate. But none of this could make them blot out what had happened.

“I still can’t believe they blindsided you like that, Bruce.” Frank put his hand on his forehead and dragged it down his face until it rested on his chin. “It’s not going to be the same without you, Bruce.” It seemed that Frank was actually taking the news harder than Bruce was. “Goddammit, it shouldn’t have happened like this!”

“It’ll be okay, Frank,” Bruce said, patting him on the back. Frank had consumed most of the bottle by himself. Bruce had a few, but wasn’t much of a drinker.

Frank pointed to the bottle on the dresser. “Send it.”

Alex picked up the bottle. “Wow...it’s almost polished.” He handed it to Frank.

Frank held the bottle upside down until the last drops fell into his glass. “That’s it, guys. Any takers on this?”

Bruce waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s all you, Frank.”

Alex had already set his drink aside. He had drank half of his initial drink over the course of several hours and left the rest—
he didn’t care for it
. The ice had completely melted in his glass.

***

It was now past three in the morning and Frank was passed out in his bed. There was another bed and a pull-out sofa. Bruce was more than willing to take the sofa, but Alex insisted that he would take it. The two of them were still up talking. Alex was a little tired, but he wasn’t going to go to sleep until his dad did. There was a long break in the conversation and Bruce let out a long sigh. Alex felt it prudent to address the elephant in the room—the topic they had been avoiding since Frank went to sleep. “I’m sorry this happened to you, Dad. It sucks like hell.”

“Yeah.” Bruce closed his eyes. “The end of an era.” He meditated on this fact for a moment, then opened his eyes again.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“I’m not entirely sure... I guess all I have now is the Legion.”

Alex thought about his father’s words. “You know, Dad—there’s something I’ve always wondered about. You were in the army alongside the Legion. But the other people in it—Mr. Santos...Varick...do they have other jobs?”

Bruce shook his head. “Nope. I mean, Varick had a police career prior to the Legion, but Santos has never worked a nine-to-five a day in his life.”

Alex scratched his head. “But how does that work? How do they make ends meet?”

“Well, it depends. There’s a few ways. Because there
are
many people in the Legion fully devoted to its cause. Now, I’ll give you the big picture here. As you know, the Legion is international. We have members and solid branches of the Legion on every continent.”

“Even Antarctica?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” Bruce paused and put a finger to his chin. “But come to think of it...we
do
actually have one member stationed in Antarctica.”

Alex scoffed. “Get outta here.” He narrowed his eyes at Bruce. “Really?”

“I kid you not.”

“Was he banished there or something, for some terrible wrong he committed against the Legion?”

“Nope, he chose to live there. His own free will.”

“Permanently?”

“Yep.”

“That’s messed up.”

Bruce laughed. “Yeah, but getting back to what you wanted to know. Some do odd-jobs from time to time—temporary things when they need it. Varick does that occasionally. Also, we have wealthy financial backers. Some are part of the Legion, some aren’t. And Legion members help each other out. I really have no attachment to money—Santos too. And as you know, we grew up together. What’s mine is his.

“And that’s it?”

“Well, there is one other method in how we finance our operations and supply the members who require it. Slush funds.”

Alex did a double take. “Slush funds? Aren’t those illegal?”

“Well, it’s a murky term—it
could
have illegal connotations.”

“Oh, so you’re referring to slush funds in a legal sense?”

Bruce scratched his head. “Well, this is what it is. We have these Legion slush funds set up in banks all over the world. Legion members as well as people that support us contribute to these funds. But I would say the majority of these funds consist of money and assets recovered from criminal operations that we’ve dispersed.”

Alex was in shock. “What the hell, you mean dirty money? Shouldn’t that kind of thing be turned over to the police?”

“Well, if you think about this rationally...”

Alex felt like he got slapped in the face. “So, if you were to bust up some drug ring and find millions in dirty drug money, you keep all of it?”

“What!? No!” Bruce thought about it for a second. “Well, yes...but just let me explain. We don’t keep it for ourselves; we redistribute it. We take only what we need for the organization to stay afloat, and the rest is redistributed back into the community, charities, that sort of thing. And let me tell you something about the police—they do the exact same thing. Criminal assets are used for police resources and redistribution back into the community. But here’s the difference:
we do it better
. We can get the stuff back out there, where it needs to go, much quicker than the police. That’s the beauty of the Legion: virtually no red tape.  And I think, for the most part, we have our priorities better in line for redistribution of such assets.”

“Wow—that’s... I just find it really surprising that the Legion operates like that.”

“Does it bother you?”

“I don’t know...”

“Well, would you consider it immoral?”

Alex thought long and hard about this question. He supposed it
was
the same as the police... “I guess not, Dad.”

“Then I have one final question. Do you still want to continue your training? To become a full-fledged member of the Legion?”

“Yes.” Alex clenched his fist. “Hell, yes.” Alex saw the first genuine smile on his dad’s face since the news of his discharge.

“I know I promised you a fun weekend, Alex, but—”

Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, Dad. Tomorrow morning, let’s go. Let’s head back to New York.”

***

Saturday, December 4th, 1999

Chital Co. Tower, Manhattan, 3:00 p.m.

Scorcher was seated in the top floor lounge with several of his cronies. His hand was covering his face, and his amber eye peered through the gap between his fingers. “Well? Where do we stand?”

Ramon Salazar shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well, Scorcher, sir—we still don’t know.”

Scorcher looked at Tony Calzone. “You put this brain-dead mook in charge of this?”

“Well, there have been a lot of complications...”

“Oh my god. Are you telling me that in this day and age, your combined forces could not find the address of a house?
One house in New York City
. Are you actually telling me this?!”

“I’m telling you that his house is completely off the grid. As far as we can tell, he doesn’t receive mail, no phone line...maybe a private line or something. We tried following Kasparov—whenever we get a bead on him, he either takes our guys out or simply turns a corner and vanishes.” Tony looked at Scorcher intensely. “He
knows
.”

“Well, what about his son?”

“We tried following him too, right out of his high school. He’s being protected as well.”

Scorcher’s amber eye blinked. “You guys are idiots, I swear to god. The whole lot of you—absolutely useless! If Pike wasn’t in jail, I’d get him to punt all your asses to the moon.”

“Scorcher, there’s something else you should know.” Ulysses Frost leaned in and whispered so that only Scorcher could hear. “We received confirmation that Turly is dead. Solly got him.”

“...Solly?
Unbelievable
. That’s
just
what I needed to hear. We were already hurting with him basically destroying everything we had in Queens, and now this? That wrinkly bastard hasn’t caused me enough trouble yet?!” Scorcher shook his head violently. “Okay-okay, one thing at a time. First, we need to get a fix on Bruce’s address.”

“Scorcher, there is another way. Another angle we can do this from to acquire the location. I’ll take care of it,” Frost reassured.

“Good. I have faith in you, Frost. These other idiots don’t know how to zip up their own trousers.”

Hachiuma stepped out of Scorcher’s office and stopped by the lounge. “The Master is on the line. He requests both of us present, Scorcher.”

Scorcher waved Hachiuma forward. “Wait, we need to hear this. Frost, what’s your method?”

“You know about Kasparov’s first son?”

“Yes...of course...the one that went astray.” Scorcher’s eye lit up. “Would he know?”

Frost shook his head. “No, he would be too young to know. The family separated when he was a small child—b
ut the mother would know
.”

“Where is the mother?” Scorcher questioned.

“Still in New York, close to her son. I’ll get the information we need from her.”

“Good.
Perfect
.” Scorcher stood up and eyed Hachiuma. “At least now we have a bone to throw so
we
don’t get chewed up.”

Scorcher and Hachiuma entered the office. The red light on the desk intercom blinked silently. Scorcher walked over to the desk and let his finger hover over the button until Hachiuma gave him the nod. The button was pressed and Scorcher cleared his throat:

“Master, we’re here. Hachiuma and myself.”

The intercom buzzed. “It’s been a month. I expected it done by now.”

“I apologize. We assigned the task to Tony Calzone and his men, but they ran into several—”

“You try my patience. I explicitly told you
no
excuses. Scorcher, what have I taught you? If you can’t do the task yourself, you get someone who can. If you can’t do either, then you’re useless to me.”

“Master, we received word that there is another way,” Hachiuma informed. “We can get the information—all we need is a few more days.”

“If I have not been contacted within the next week, there will be
severe
repercussions.”