Scion (27 page)

She boarded
the Sessa Key Largo 25 boat, its rear end dominated by two large 150 hp engines. Without hesitation, she removed the key from under the seat, turned the ignition and unhitching the ropes powered the boat away from the pier. Once clear, she pushed the throttles forward and set a course due South. In twenty minutes she would be on station. She opened her duffel bag and began to lay our her equipment, the small radar dish and screen first, followed by her Walther WA 2000 sniper rifle.

Chapter 45

Scott
knew where he wanted to get to. The only problems were how to get there without a passport for Ashley and without announcing his miraculous rebirth. Trying to get a replacement passport for Ashley raised two issues. One, it would announce her miraculous rebirth and two, the US embassy in Malaysia was in Kuala Lumpur, over 1000 miles away across the South China Sea. His only option was to purchase a forged passport. However that was fraught with danger as nine times out of ten the forgeries were picked up almost immediately. Only passports recently separated from their owners, who had yet to report them missing were of any use and Scott knew no one he trusted enough to guarantee him that..

“Can you just pull over next to that café please,” asked
Scott pointing towards a small beachside café.

As the taxi slowed
down, Ashley looked at him quizzically. They were miles from the airport.

“I’ll tell you in a minute!”
Scott said sensing the enquiring eyes on his back.

As the taxi pulled away
, Scott spotted exactly what he was after. Depositing Ashley at a nearby table, Scott ordered her a coffee and changed some cash for coins. He then went to use a payphone next to the toilet area.

Ashley could only sit and wonder what was going on
. Scott had hardly spoken to her since they had left the marina and she was still trying to work out what had happened there. Ashley was no wimp but couldn’t help feeling vulnerable after the humiliating and frightening experience. Had it not been for Scott’s intervention, she knew she would have been in trouble. The three drunk sailors had only one thing on their mind and Ashley had no doubt she would not have been able to fight them off. She looked at Scott and instantly felt safe. His eyes were fixed on her, protectively watching over her. She could see him speaking into the phone but the mouthpiece covered his mouth allowing her only to make out a couple of words. She was sure he had said ‘sure travesty’, just before hanging up.

Scott
replaced the handset and smiled for the first time since the explosion. He finally felt as though he was taking control. His grief had overwhelmed him, choking his thought processes but thanks to the three drunks, he had been shaken out of his darkness.

He had been raised as an islander where death was not mourned, it was celebrated. True warriors, the islanders believed death was merely another step towards immortality
. Scott realised that in the eyes of the islanders he had been selfish and worrying about his loss, rather than celebrating their gain. However, despite their casual acceptance of death, the islanders also firmly believed in an eye for eye. Their lives may be celebrated but if their wrongful deaths were not avenged, Scott knew they would never rest.

“Come on, we need to get going!” instructed
Scott as he neared the table.

“But my coffee, it’s not even arrived yet,” protested Ashley.

“No time, we’ve got a boat to catch.”

“A what
? I thought we were going to Geneva?”

“We are. We just need to make a little detour.”

Chapter 4
6

It had been an extremely
shocking meeting for Stephen Hughes. The depth of the investigation was only exceeded by the depth of the conspiracy. From what Agent Jennings had described, the men in the meeting were quite possibly the only people not in on it. Government employees, elected officials, congressman and senators all seemed to be on the take somehow, although none of it traceable. Select steering committees, the real power in Washington’s democracy, who controlled trillions of dollars in the US economy were all in on it. Advisors, advising the president on policy and strategy were in on it.

Stephen had argued that
they had always known that business unduly influenced politicians and government. That, however, was not disputed. The problem was that this went much further and deeper and somehow seemed more concerted and connected. When big business bought its decisions, it was usually an oil company wanting preferential duties, or the tobacco industry wanting to quell class action law suits. It was never an all encompassing control and certainly never reached beyond legislation or procurement.

Stephen had sat and listened to Jennings describe the level of infiltration within the military and intelligence communities
. It seemed nowhere was sacred, at every level and at every juncture, the conspiracy was there. Law enforcement, the judiciary, the list went on and on. Names of people under the direction of outside influence rolled off Jenning’s tongue; name after name of people Stephen Hughes thought to be of impeccable character and totally trustworthy. Cabinet members who it seemed had another paymaster. By the time Jennings finished, Stephen was surprised there was a government in power at all. It seemed anyone with any influence was batting for another team.

“So what are you going to do?” asked Stephen still reeling from the revelations.

Jennings turned to the president, who took his cue.

“
Absolutely nothing. We have not one shred of proof that would stick in court, not that we can trust the courts. Nor do we know who’s even behind it.”

“
Holy shit,” Stephen’s mind was racing as he struggled to comprehend the implications of what was being said.

“You realise you can’t discuss any of what you have heard her
e tonight?” instructed Walters.

“Of course,” responded Stephen dismissively
, his mind still working through the revelations.

“All that I ask is that you watch your back and if you see anything you think can help us, please contact Dwight immediately,” asked the president, while Dwight handed
over his business card.

They all stood
up, shook hands and slowly drifted out of the room. As they moved into the empty reception area, Stephen Hughes checked his watch and offered his apologies, he had a dinner date and was running very late. As his back disappeared out of sight, the president, Walters and Jennings walked back into the office.

“Did he bite?” asked the president.

“Absolutely, the greedy little shit could hardly contain himself,” replied Walters who had always warned the president about Hughes.

“Is everything in place?” asked the president, still struggling to believe one of his closest friends was
involved.

“
Yes Sir. If he so much as sneezes, we’ll know where, how hard and who to,” replied Jennings.

Chapter 47

The
endless line of limousines outside the Chicago Hilton and Towers had not stopped all day. The private dinner hosted by Dan Baker was by no means an intimate event. The audience with the next president had cost its 1,000 guests over $25 million dollars between them. Dan had only organised the dinner following concerns over constant questioning of his funding. Suggestions of funding by the Saudi Royal family had recently surfaced on more than a few internet sites and had kicked off a debate that needed taming or else would cost Dan a few points on election day.

Dan
had finally relented and allowed his team to organise one big fund raising event but made it clear that everybody paid the same, no matter what. The last thing Dan wanted was owing anybody anything when he got the job. He wasn’t going to be like previous incumbents and spend the first few days in office paying off old debts and thanking backers with legislation that would repay them ten fold for backing him. With Transcon behind him Dan had all the money he would ever need.

Of course, his refusal to accept donations for favours was causing more than a little unrest in the business community
. Having a president in place who didn’t need their backing was something of a novelty. As such, the uptake for the fundraising dinner was unprecedented. The $25,000 tickets sold out in minutes. Resales of the tickets on ebay had caused widespread controversy with one ticket being sold for $1 million dollars. It seemed the business community had found their equivalent to Woodstock and would do anything to get hold of a the ticket.

Eduardo Ramirez was one such ticket holder and was still enraged from his earlier cal
l. Nobody spoke to Eduardo the way Dan Baker had spoken to him. Nobody. Initially, he had purchased the ticket as a joke, a little reminder to Dan that Eduardo was one of his backers. Many years earlier, he had lent the young Baker a large sum of money with the promise of a significant return. That return had indeed been significant. However, had it not been for the original loan, Dan Baker would not be where he was today. Eduardo liked having powerful friends and there would be none more so than an indebted American president. It had been over twenty years since he had last spoken to Dan. Their business deal had been carried out in complete secrecy and to this day Eduardo still did not know how Dan had managed to achieve the ten fold increase so quickly.

Eduardo picked up the phone and dialled a number
.

“Get my plane ready
,” he barked before hanging up. The joke was about to become a reality, Dan would learn not to underestimate Eduardo.

“We’re going to Chicago!” he shouted over to his bodyguard who sat motionless under a nearby shade
. “Get the helicopter ready!”

Ten min
utes later, Eduardo and his ever present team of bodyguards, were boarding Eduardo’s Sikorsky S76 helicopter for the short flight to the airport where Eduardo’s Boeing Business Jet 3 sat waiting.

***

Fifteen miles south of Aruba, she pulled the throttles back and switched the small radar dish on. Its antenna began to rotate and the screen came to life. The small green line sweeping around an empty sky. Everything was ready. The sea was a little choppier than she would have liked but the wind not as bad as she had first thought it would be when she stepped out of the airport. All she needed now was the target.

The job had been uncharacteristically rushed
. Normally she had days or even weeks to plan a hit. This time, she had only hours. Seven hours ago, she had been waiting in Boston for a flight to Europe when the job came through. Could she make it to Aruba in five hours? Yes she responded and was told to get there asap. Everything would be in place, a long term issue needed to be resolved and an opportunity had arisen that was unlikely to be repeated.

***

Eduardo increased the power and lifted off. He loved flying and was in the process of completing his airline training which would let him fly his airplane but for now he had to make do with the helicopter. He spun the nose around and pointing due north dipped the nose and increased the power. Queen Beatrix International Airport, home to his Boeing Business Jet, lay just 20 miles to the North.

***

The first blip on the screen announced the target was approaching, 5 miles to the South. In less than two minutes, he would be in range. She lifted the Walther WA2000 rifle which against her petite frame looked even more ridiculous than normal. It’s bull pup design giving an uncharacteristic stocky look to the rifle. As the scope came to her eye, her body relaxed, her breathing controlled. Her mind began to think of nothing other than a perfect shot. The motion of the boat became rhythmic and entered into the factors that her mind calculated and re-calculated.

Within a minute
, the target started to come into sight of the scope but was still well out of reach. As each second passed, the detail became greater and greater until still over half a mile away, she had the perfect shot. The pilot of the helicopter became clearly visible. Her breathing stopped and as the boat reached the pinnacle of its sway, she depressed the trigger. The 7.62 mm round exploded from the barrel and flew through the air, dipping slightly as it arched towards its target. The front screen of the helicopter stood no chance as the bullet tore through it like tissue and continued relentlessly towards its target. A fraction of a second after the window had exploded, the pilot’s head bore the full brunt of the metal bullet’s fury. His head had gone.

With perfect impact and
a confirmed kill, she fired one more round. This one fired slightly lower and to the right, the huge bullet tore through the petrol tank and the resulting explosion ensured nothing but small pieces of debris would be left of the aircraft and its occupants.

By the time the explosion
ripped through the helicopter, the engines of the Sessa were already at full power. Twenty minutes later, she was docking the speedboat in Oranjestad, the main town on Aruba and disembarking with one small bag, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. A ten minute cab ride deposited her at the front door of the airport and thirty minutes later, she was handing over her boarding card and passport for her flight to Amsterdam with KLM.