The Kasparov Agenda (Omega Ops Legion Book 1) (31 page)

Bruce grinned. “Yeah, that could be part of it. But that’s quite a ways down the road for Alex. I’m sure Varick wouldn’t mind being your sponsor and showing you the ropes.”

Laura turned to Varick. “How about it, John? You want to be my sponsor?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Laura and Bruce answered in unison with a resounding ‘No’. Laura extended her hand. “Let’s make it official now, John.”

Varick sighed and a faint smile crossed his face, despite himself. He shook Laura’s hand. “Welcome to the Legion.”

***

Everyone was gunning for Scorcher now.
Santos had brought the issue of Uecker’s death to the table. As stones were unturned, it was confirmed beyond a doubt that the murder was initiated by Scorcher’s camp. Varick had received the information from his snitch Billy, who had been doing the digging. The person to actually pull the trigger was unknown, but was unanimously decided as irrelevant. They weren’t going to try and search out one gunman; they were going to ‘shut down the whole goddamn thing’, as Varick aptly put it. And the key to do that was Scorcher. With this resolve in mind, they redoubled their efforts to dismantle Scorcher’s operation.
And they weren’t the only ones
.

The coalition between Jack Solly and Spike Luxembourg was formidable, and Solly was on the warpath. His finances were in shambles, and he was burning through all of his rainy day funds to pay for his war against Scorcher.
It was do or die.
Luxembourg was taking point, defending the home front from retaliation. The noose around Scorcher’s neck was tightening, but his neck was very,
very
thick...

***

Thursday, December 2nd, 1999

As the days grew colder, the first snowfall hit New York, and it was a big one. Alex Kasparov trudged through a snowfield to get to the main road. He was walking towards the bus stop after a long day of school. He hadn’t started prepping for end of term exams yet, but the assignments kept him in line. A sharp gust of wind pierced him through the gap where his coat and neck met. He tightened his collar.
They’re worried about my safety, yet I have to take public transit.
Just imagining having a car to drive home in warmed Alex up. It was a good ten-minute walk from school to the bus stop. But there was
one other thing that was helping to lift his spirits. This morning, his dad had told him that he had been called down to Fort Bragg in North
Carolina, where he was planning to spend the weekend. And as good fortune would have it, he, Alex, was invited to tag along for the trip. To Alex, this meant warmer weather and a chance to tour the military grounds with his father. Being allowed to miss school on Friday was the cherry on his weekend sundae. He knew he could easily make up whatever work he missed. Frankly put, there was nothing important happening on Friday anyway. Some days, it just didn’t pay to go to school.
 

As Alex walked along the sidewalk mulling over his thoughts, he was unaware that Wyatt and Cole, two grunts in Scorcher’s employment, had been following him from the moment he stepped foot off the school grounds. They kept a safe distance from their target as to not arouse suspicion, but always kept Alex in their line of sight. Both men were armed with guns.

Alex turned a corner and the two men quickened their pace. Suddenly, a leg kicked out in front of Wyatt and Cole—onto the brick wall, blocking their path.
There was a third man following Alex
.
 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Wyatt spat.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were following my friend. What business do you have with him?” The third man was quite young. He was in his late twenties, had dark hair, and wore a black leather jacket. This man’s name was Gabriel.

Wyatt exchanged a glance with Cole, then laughed at the audacity of the man standing before him. “I got nothing to say to you about Kasparov’s boy. Now get your leg out of my way before I
break
it.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Sorry, can’t do it.” People walked around them awkwardly, trying not to draw attention to themselves.

“You’ll regret that decision!” Wyatt chopped at Gabriel’s leg, as if it were a wooden board laid out to test a disciple of karate. Gabriel moved his leg, the instant before contact.

Cole attacked next and attempted to slug him in the face. Gabriel caught him by the wrist and twisted his arm behind his back. Cole yelled out in pain. “Who the hell are you?!”

“Name’s Gabriel.” He pushed Cole into Wyatt.

They both stared back at him, fuming. “You’re with the Legion, aren’t you!?” Cole shouted.

“Yeah, that’s right. Think of me like a guardian angel. Kasparov’s boy is off limits.” He looked at them sternly. “I suggest you both turn around and walk away.”

Wyatt sneered. “The angel Gabriel—
cute
. Give my regards to God when you see him.” He reached into his coat. Gabriel lunged and sent a fist straight into Wyatt’s face, before he could draw his gun. He was knocked flat on his back and was out cold. Simultaneously, Cole attacked from Gabriel’s blind spot and caught a roundhouse to the temple. He smashed nose-first into the brick wall, where he slid down, limp, and gently crumpled onto the sidewalk.

 Gabriel hastily went through their coats and confiscated both of their pieces. He looked around at the gawking bystanders. “Someone want to call the cops on these two? I got a bus to catch.”

***

The Seaberg Lounge, Queens, 7:00 p.m.

Oswalt Fletcher waited at a table by himself inside the lounge.
Jack Solly had requested a meeting
. For the last few weeks, Oswalt had been doing exactly what Solly had initially brought him on for: getting information and using police resources to systematically shut down Scorcher’s empire. He was still a bit apprehensive but, for the most part, found it unlikely that Solly or his men would silence him—
he’d been doing too damn good a job
.
Their doubts about his loyalty had subsided considerably. Even Captain Morring had taken note of Fletcher’s work—how the new guy in their precinct was making busts that even the senior officers couldn’t manage...

Oswalt carefully picked up his drink with his right hand and made an effort to put the glass to his lips—he was shaky, but he managed it. His cast had been removed a few weeks ago, but his arm movements were still stiff.

Mark Solly gave a loud whistle from down the hallway. Oswalt looked up to see Mark signalling him to come forward—Jack was ready for him
.
The two men walked to the back of the club and entered the storeroom. Jack Solly, Lucas, and another grunt were present beside a man tied to a chair. He sported a heavily bruised face.

Oswalt scratched his nose absentmindedly. “Should I expect to be treated to a man tied up every time I’m back here?”

“If you’re into that sort of thing, we can have it arranged,” Mark replied.

Jack scowled at the two of them. “Shut up, you idiots.” He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Oswalt. “We’ve run through a slew of Scorcher’s men and destroyed several of his establishments. And yet, I still do not have my bearer bonds back in my possession. Do you know that, Oswalt? They stole millions upon millions from me.”

Oswalt shook his head. “This is the first time I’m hearing about any bearer bonds.”

Jack snapped his fingers and pointed at the man tied to the chair. “Hold him up—let Oswalt have a good look at him.” Lucas grabbed the man by his thinning hair and jerked his head up. The man grunted in pain. Jack pointed at his prisoner. “You know who that is, Oswalt?”

Oswalt stared. His face was unrecognizable with the bruises. “No idea.”

“That’s Samuel Turly.”

Oswalt’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit, you got him?”

“That’s right. It took a lot of digging and combing, but I have my methods. We managed to lure him out to bring him here today. Of course, I have you to thank, Oswalt, for even bringing his presence in the city to my attention.” Jack stared grimly at his prisoner. “You know what I want, Turly. The rat... Tell me who the rat is and your suffering can end.”

Turly stared back at Jack with a dark smile. “When I see you in hell...every grievance you’ve inflicted upon me...I’ll be sure to pay you back tenfold.”

Lucas punched Turly in the gut. “He’s not going to talk.”

Jack Solly nodded. “You know, I don’t even care who the snitch is anymore. Zerneck still hasn’t shown his face around here. It was either Brody or Wells, and that’s good enough for me.” In his mind, Oswalt breathed a sigh of relief. Solly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a single black leather glove. He carefully wore it over his right hand. “But...I still want to know one thing...” He extended his arm. The grunt placed a roughly hewn wooden billy club into his gloved hand. Solly’s eyes glowed with fire. He then proceeded to repeatedly smash the club across Turly’s face. “Where—are—my—BEARER BONDS!” He paused between each word to get a club in. Turly grimaced and spit out a stream of blood onto Solly’s light-grey suit. Solly smashed the club one more time across his face for his impudence, then dropped the weapon onto the floor. “This piece of shit...” Solly sighed. He removed the glove, shook it sharply, then returned it to his inner jacket pocket. “You’re right, Lucas—he’s not going to talk.” Jack Solly pointed at the grunt. The grunt drew a pistol and fixed a silencer onto it. He held the gun in front of Oswalt for him to take. “Consider this a final test, Oswalt—
of your loyalty
. This is a bigwig in Scorcher’s hierarchy. If you can do this, any lingering suspicions I have of you being a double agent for Scorcher will be erased.”

Oswalt took the gun. The Solly family watched Oswalt closely. Mark wore a smirk on his face. “
Déjà vu, huh
, Oswalt?”

Oswalt raised the gun in line with his target.
This has to happen... There’s no room for hesitation.
Oswalt looked Turly dead in the eyes. Turly nodded to Oswalt, as if welcoming death.
“You’ve done a lot of heinous shit in your lifetime, Turly. I have no sympathy for scum.” And without another second thought, Oswalt fired three shots aimed at Turly’s heart. Turly gasped as his body jerked from the bullet impacts. Still being tied to the chair, his body couldn’t keel over onto the floor. His head tilted down, and he became lifeless.
 

***

Friday, December 3rd, 1999

Bruce had been called into Fort Bragg regarding a matter of some urgency. He hadn’t been filled in on the details, but he was told it would be brief and would not require deployment. Owing to these facts, Bruce had decided that this would be a great opportunity for Alex and himself to make a road trip out of the journey.

They had left from New York early morning in a rental car. It was a nine-hour drive to get to the base but get there they did, and the army base did not disappoint. Alex was overwhelmed by the sheer size of Fort Bragg. In fact, he felt intimidated by it. After all, this was one of the largest military installations in the world and home to the United States Airborne and Special Operations Forces.

Upon arrival, they made contact with Frank Cormac, who had lodging reserved on base. Sensing Alex’s tension, Frank and Bruce took Alex on a quick tour of the grounds and gave him a chance to meet some of the soldiers in Frank’s squad. After getting the ins and outs, Alex felt a lot more comfortable with his surroundings and was now ready to really enjoy his stay. With any luck, Alex was hoping to have some strings pulled so that he could go up in one of the planes and witness airborne jump training firsthand. But before anything of the sort was arranged, Bruce had to take care of his obligations.

He entered the private office of Brigadier General Ferrell Mann. Also present in the office was a friend of the Legion, Colonel Marvin Braggs. They both stood up from their chairs. Bruce saluted them both, then stood at ease, his arms behind his back. “My presence was requested, General?”

The general nodded. “Yes, Captain...” Colonel Braggs stared down at the floor, avoiding Bruce’s eyes. Bruce suddenly felt uneasy; he realized that this was something he didn’t want to hear. “It has fallen upon me to deliver this news to you.” The general stared down Bruce, who watched him with unblinking eyes. “Effective immediately, you will no longer be serving with the United States Army and will be receiving an ‘Other Than Honorable Discharge’.”
Dead silence.
The words the general spoke washed over Bruce like a blast furnace. He was stunned. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He could not believe what he was hearing. “You have been barred from reenlistment into any branch of the Armed Forces. These actions are in direct response to the recent controversies you have brought upon yourself and your government, by being a member of the quasi-military organization known as the Omega Ops Legion.”

Bruce stared out the window, into the army grounds. He placed the tips of his fingers to his forehead, still trying to wrap his head around what was going on—to collect his thoughts. He made eye contact with the general. “There must be something—someway this can be—”

The general raised his hand to silence Bruce. “The orders came down from the higher-ups. The decision is final.”

“I can’t believe this. Twenty years of service, thrown to the wayside, just like that?” Bruce shook his head, as if trying to clear a bad memory. “The controversies? General, surely you know what Omega Ops Legion duties entail. What they’re saying—the press...it’s not true. I mean, what, Bohemian Grove? As far as I am aware—”

Once again, the general raised his hand. “That’s enough. Do
not
—talk to me about Bohemian Grove. Do not mention the Bohemian Grove in my presence.” Bruce raised an eyebrow. “This is what I believe. I believe that the public opinion regarding the integrity of you—of the Legion—of the United States military and our very government has been brought into question. And they don’t know what the right answers are. Do you know why we lost in Vietnam?
Lack of public support
. For you to remain in our ranks would only further exacerbate the situation. We have to distance ourselves from you. Your discharge will be made public knowledge.”