It's Hell To Choose (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 9) (17 page)

He had unlocked the heavy chain keeping the doors closed and had to go back to the car in disgust. Popping the trunk, he pulled out a can of lubricant and went back to the lock and squeezed the can enough to drop some of the oil into the lock. He held it there a few seconds and then moved the lock, keeping it upside down on the chain so the oil would drain into the tumblers.
 
He then went back to put the can in his trunk and pulled out some rolled up blueprints.

He waited another ten seconds before trying the lock again and was able to finally open it. The chain started sliding out of the handle, and he pulled his hands away quickly so that it didn’t whip around and bust up his knuckles.

He pushed open one of the two sliding doors a few feet before it stopped, probably with a messed up wheel itself. No matter, it didn’t need to open any further. He turned when he heard footsteps behind him. Phillip pulled the sunglasses down to look over at a smiling white male with a brown cowboy hat, blue eyes, and dimples.

“Birk Muller,” Phillip said with a smile on his face, “as I live and breath there was never a nicer asshole than you!” Phillip reached out, and Birk clapped his hand in a handshake.

“Phillip, you royal pain in the ass-hole, what you got cooking this time?” Birk asked as he quickly glanced inside, while holding Phillip’s hand.

“Let’s go inside and I’ll lay some of it out.
 
Maybe you will be able to refine the plan before everyone gets here.” Birk released his hand and allowed Phillip to go in first.

The air inside was still musky from being closed up, the recent rains and the humidity. Phillip walked to the side where a couple of small rooms with a cutout in the wall for windows let you see inside and flipped a switch to turn on the fluorescent lights. It would take them a few minutes to reach full brightness.

“I get we are going to the States, but what is the purpose?” Birk asked as he walked around the place, making sure no one was going to jump out at him probably.

“You guys are going to hijack a children’s school bus on a field trip. Then, you will drive it into a building that has a lower level and security gates between the levels. Good security, by the way. The SWAT teams will be required to go through three vehicular gates, and there is a stairwell access for the bottom level to deal with.”

Phillip walked over and set his keys and the blueprints on the dusty table he used every time. Unrolling the plans, he set his keys on a corner and then he had rocks from last time for the remaining three corners. He pointed to the lower right corner. “The bottom level is approachable via the stairwell, the last security gate, which is solid by the way, and there is a 12-inch drainage pipe.”

Birk took one last look around as he came over to the table, “Twelve inches isn’t a very large back door, Phillip. I really don’t want to be trying to be fight my way out the front.” He looked down at the map. “So, what’s the real escape route?”

“Why do you think there is a real escape route?” Phillip asked, “Maybe I want your ass left out there as one big ugly cowboy shooting target?”

Birk looked up and grinned, “Because you have always done right by anyone you hire, and I doubt this is the Big Screw.”

Phillip shrugged, “Yeah, there’s an out. You guys will also have twenty-four hours to check everything for yourselves before you do the run.” He pointed to the bottom right corner of the plan, “I have had a team working to build a fifty-foot tunnel to the wall right here. It’s ready for you guys to go check out both sides. One team member can stay on the exit side, which allows you to either go into the sewers or get into the underground parking via another route two blocks away and exit with vans. Your choice.”

“You aren’t going?” Birk asked.

“Are you kidding me?” Phillip replied, “If my ass is anywhere near the U.S. and a hint of this gets out, they will call me in for questioning. If I stay here and make sure I’m with someone when it goes down, others will vouch for me. Besides, you guys aren’t the main event.”

“No?” Birk looked back up at Phillip.

“No, you are just to pull the focus and hopefully the security off of a well-secured corporate headquarters out in the mountains west of Denver. That’s why it’s children. Everyone on the base will be either running out to where you are or focused on the news coming in from the event.”

A deep, gravelly voice greeted the two of them from the doorway. “I’m nyet so liking a children’s op, Phillip.” Both men turned, but Birk was quicker and Phillip saw his eyes open wide. Both for someone surprising him, as well as guessing who the man was.

Phillip left the table and walked over to the huge Russian with his hand out, “Boris, son-of-a-bitch as I live and breath…”

“Hey, you said that already,” called out Birk behind him.

Phillip ignored him, “It’s good to work with you!”

The big Russian had a massive beard and quick eyes. His dark brown eyes looked almost black as his hand smothered Phillips. He walked into the room. “Are the six that are skulking around outside going to join us here, or are they vaiting for a party in-vi-tation?” His heavily accented English could confuse a person. Sometimes you could never tell if Boris was joking, or being serious.

Birk smiled, “Ah, well, that would be the group who nominated my ass to be the sacrifice to confirm Phillip was on the up and up.” He pulled his phone out and sent a text message. "They will be here in a few minutes, now.”

Phillip was impressed and depressed at the same time. Impressed with Boris to have located them, and depressed that he had missed them. It might be time to make sure he departed this kind of work before he lost his remaining edge. Well, this project would pad his retirement fund sufficiently that living in South America would be comfortable for at least thirty or forty years without side projects.

Boris was a huge man, but he seemed light on his feet. He had the look of a tracker, someone accustomed to being in the bush. Phillip wasn’t going to misjudge the man based on his slow speech and careful talking. He had done enough background checks on Boris for previous potential projects the United States wanted, to know that this was probably not the ‘original’ Boris. For one, the huge man looked to be maybe in his thirties and ‘the’ Boris was on the books as having been used in 1952. Although, the description in the documents he was able to read painted him as a giant, hairy, dark-eyed Russian.

Phillip shrugged mentally, probably a family that kept the business going with successive generations. Possibly why he had a reputation for not being able to be killed.

Soon, six more Merc’s joined the group, and Phillip shook their hands. He had worked with one other guy there, Patty McKingsly, for an op that spanned from South America over to Europe three years ago. Except for an occasional death wish, Patty was hell on wheels with pistols and didn’t care what the job was. He was as amoral as they come, except for his mom. Speak ugly about her and it was usually a brawl right then, right there. If you came at him with anything but your fists and maybe a beer bottle, then you typically received two .22 love taps to your stomach from the pistols he always had on him.

He enjoyed leaving you in pain to suffer. Piss him off again while you were on the ground and then you got a .38 to the head.

Personally, Phillip liked Patty. He shook the man’s hand while looking at his beard. “I see you let the red grow a little this time, Patty.”
 

“Aye, it allows me the chance to stay in me country without tripping the video cameras don’t you know?” He winked to Phillip, “The lassies like it long, I found. They say it tickles.”

Phillip rolled his eyes, “I can imagine.” He stepped to the door and yanked it hard to get it started moving before pulling it shut.

Turning back to the table, most of the men were on the same side as Birk, with Boris standing on the other with his arms crossed, studying the map.

He walked up, “It’s not so much about children, as using them as bait, Boris.” Phillip said, speaking to Boris’ earlier comment. “We need to get the focus from the real attack location, which is the corporate headquarters, onto Denver. Once we get them focused on the city, a second group led by a second team is going to infiltrate and drop off electronic devices.
 
There will also be a second larger package, something that will cause them a significant amount of damage so that the spy devices have a chance to get lost in the commotion.”

He paused, then continued, “Before that operation starts, you need to ramp up the pressure on your side.”

“How?” Boris asked from beside Phillip. Boris was rubbing his head like he had a headache.

Phillip started answering the question, “We are going to give you the tools to send direct video to the CEO of TQB Enterprises…”

“The hot chick on TV all the time?” Patty interrupted.

Phillip turned to the talkative Scotsman. “Yes, the hot chick from the TV.” He continued, “Once you have everyone stuck in Denver, the second team will finish their incursion. Hopefully, they won’t be seen, and they will get in and out without too many issues. Unfortunately, the package is going to make a right mess of the place. When that goes off, you need to exit out through a passage which is already built and how you get out from there is up to you.”

Birk spoke, “There are two ways guys, van and leave via driving, or sewer walk.” Birk received five ‘vans’ and one ‘oh god, not a sewer walk!’ which he took as a vote for ‘van’. He turned to the Russian, “Boris?”

Boris looked up, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll get out walking. Maybe the sewer, maybe walk on the street.” He shrugged, “It would help to have two groups leaving at a minimum. How many vehicles are you thinking?”

Phillip responded, “I’m thinking three or four, minimum. But if you guys want one for each of you, the budget is there to do it.”

Birk pointed to each man who either nodded or shook their head. “Ok, I’m good with going with someone, so we are going to need four cars. Three singles, one joint and one walker.”

“Weapons?” Boris asked.

“Get me your requirements and I’ll have them ready for when you hit the States. I’ve got some contacts that can do a run from Las Vegas to Denver to meet someone there. You will drive up, switch keys, and drive the vehicle with the armament away. Top dollar, no bullshit. Used them before.”

Birk spoke again, “We will have at least twenty-four hours to confirm the plan and the exit strategy are in place. Twelve hours before we have to commit to ‘go’ or not. Once we say ‘go’, we are committed, or we all get black marks on our files.”

“If you call it off for a good reason, I’ll mark it as approved,” Phillip said. If this didn’t work out, they could figure out another effort, and he didn’t want these guys pissed at him in exchange.

The men all nodded their understanding. It was comments like this that let them all know this was legit.

“So, no children?” Boris asked.

“No,” Phillip answered, “The children are there to pull the focus off of the base. The goal, at all times, is to keep the people focused on you until we tell you otherwise.”

“Ve are going to need a vay to block that stairwell,” Boris mentioned as he pointed to it on the blueprint.

“I’ll have explosives enough to drop the insides down and block the door, just make sure the door won’t open on you,” Phillip responded.

Phillip looked around, “I’ll get you all the tech you need and the instructions when you meet up in Denver. Everyone gets there by your own method if you want to, or I can help get you on a safe, private plane leaving from Mexico City in two days.”

“Why is this plane safe?” asked Birk.

“Because it belongs to a high-level CEO. His plane is never checked coming in or out of the US, and he, or someone from this country, makes this trip every single month. Unfortunately for the lackey going this month, he is going to be held back by the Mexican government and the plane is going to be needed back for a trip by the CEO the next day. You guys jump on, fly, land, and leave a couple of hours later wearing coveralls with a jet cleaning company’s logo on the back.”

Birk raised his hand, “I’m for going private jet.” Six hands raised around him, and they all looked to Boris.

He shrugged, “Da are usually smaller, but I’m good with this idea. I’m good for flying in personal jet, yes.”

South Africa - Africa

Bandile Annane wiped his brow. It was hot here in the mine. They were deep down underground, and Bandile was unhappy. Not with his work, he loved mining, but rather with what was becoming sloppy support from their company again. The refrigeration units that cooled the air before injecting it deep down into the mining shafts was not working even to half the needed levels, and the miners were making mistakes.