The Loyal Nine (17 page)

Chapter 24

February 8, 2016

Lausanne, Switzerland

Steven Sargent eased the Range Rover right on Avenue des Acacias, watching the dashboard-mounted GPS screen out of the corner of his eye. The orange-yellow-painted four-story building on the corner of Acacias and Mon Loisir matched the destination on the screen.

“We’re in this puke-yellow building,” said Steven.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” asked Bugs.

Bugs shifted uneasily in the front passenger seat, fingering the lock/unlock button. A former Army Special Forces medic, Bugs, aka Paul Hittle, left the Green Berets for the lucrative overseas contract security field. Quickly building a solid reputation as a discreet and dependable operator, he was taken off the market by Steven’s employer and put on a generous retainer. He had a sixth sense they had learned to trust over the years.

“Take it easy, brother. The place has been vetted. Our shit’s waiting inside,” said Sargent.

“Looks like a hippie youth hostel,” muttered Bugs.

“It’ll be fine. The place comes with a private garage,” said Steven, examining the building’s exterior.

He had to admit, it wasn’t exactly their usual digs for a job like this, but choices had been limited on short notice. With the peace talks kicking off tonight, the city was booked. A last minute Airbnb opening fit the bill, giving them two bedrooms in a quiet neighborhood. He booked the room and contacted his handlers, who verified the suitability of the location and delivered their gear.

“I don’t see a garage,” grumbled Slash from the backseat.

Slash, aka Drew Jackson, had been with the group as long as Steven, and was notorious for giving him shit. He’d left the SEAL Teams around the same time, bouncing around outfits like Blackwater until Steven rescued him from Iraqi convoy-security details and Omani-apartment-complex guard shifts. He was particularly handy in close-quarters combat, hence the nickname.

“It’s around back, where one usually finds a garage,” said Steven.

“Fuck you,” said Slash.

“Hey, guys, sorry this isn’t the Ritz-Carlton. We can always shit-can the detail, and our paychecks.”

“Just busting your ass, man,” said Bugs. “I’m still a little irritable about ditching the family in Nevis. I’m going to catch endless shit from Claire when I get back.”

“Take her to Tiffany’s,” mouthed Sharpie. “That’ll shut her trap.”

“First time that motherfucker talks since we picked him up, and he’s gotta dig on my wife,” said Bugs.

“I’m not digging on her, Bugs. The light blue bag has a way of easing the pain of business trips,” said Sharpie.

Sharpie was still a bit of an enigma. He’d left Delta Force a few years ago to pursue a private equity fund venture with a few of his Harvard buddies, all business school grads except for Raymond Bower. He consistently showed up for European operations, suggesting that his ties to the equity fund may still be intact. It didn’t matter to Steven. They all ran separate lives outside of Aegis Corps. As long as they all reported for duty when requested and performed their jobs flawlessly, he didn’t care if they ran a bakery back home.

“Listen to Sharpie get all upscale and shit,” said Bugs.

“What can I say, I’m the crème brûlée of this backwater team,” said Sharpie, slapping Bugs on the shoulder through a gap in the front seats.

“Are you guys done?” asked Steven, pulling into the concrete alley behind the building.

The garage doors lined the back of the building, looking questionably tight for their SUV.

“Are you sure we’ll fit?” asked Bugs.

“We’ll find out,” said Steven, pressing a black remote control.

The third door from the start of the alley lifted on a track, rapidly disappearing. Sargent edged the SUV forward, cringing as they passed under the top of the garage without scraping the roof.

“Aegis is thorough with their assessments.”

“You didn’t look so sure,” said Bugs, opening his door and hitting the side of the garage. “Good thing I went on a diet.”

Steven shook his head and squeezed out of his side, joining the team at a locked door. He unlocked the deadbolt and the doorknob before testing the door—which wouldn’t budge.

“Try the code,” said Steven, making room for Bugs.

The lanky, fair-skinned operator punched a code into his smartphone and pressed send, shrugging his shoulders. He waited a few seconds before turning the knob and pushing the door inward.

“Open sesame. Aegis added a cell-phone-triggered locking mechanism to this door, which will serve as our only authorized egress-ingress point. The less the neighbors see of us, the better,” said Steven, pressing the button to close the garage door.

The foyer beyond the door led to a laundry room equipped with a matching set of stainless steel appliances and an empty closet. A stairwell rose above the closet space, taking them onto the second level, where he found a tasteful, yet inexpensively furnished common area and eat-in kitchen.

Slash swiped a brochure from the kitchen table, thumbing through it, as Steven made sure the sliding door to the balcony was locked.

“You weren’t kidding about this being a rental,” grumbled Slash, the stocky, Scandinavian-looking operative.

“Air bed and breakfast. People around the world just rent rooms or their places to complete strangers, or in our case, government operatives,” said Steven.

“Weird name,” said Slash, tossing the brochure onto the table. “Where’s our shit?”

“Upstairs. Bedroom on the right.”

They proceeded upstairs, taking a right at the top of the staircase. A quick search turned up a suitcase-sized, hardened-metal lockbox stuffed under the bed. Steven’s index finger triggered the biometric lock, giving them access to the tools of their trade.

“Not a lot of gear,” stated Bugs.

“We’re not officially here,” said Steven. “Aegis wants us to maintain a low profile. This package reflects that priority.”

“Looks like we’re low priority. No ballistic vests?” asked Bugs.

“You know the deal,” said Steven.

“I know. Wishful thinking,” replied Bugs.

They all knew the deal. The team was here to rapidly and discreetly neutralize any previously undiscovered threats to the peace conference. If activated, they would hit the identified target and immediately leave Switzerland by way of a luxury yacht docked in the harbor—leaving nothing behind besides their rental SUV. The kit came with them wherever they traveled in Lausanne, including the container, which is why Aegis had gone light on the gear.

Sharpie reached into the opened case, removing an MP-7 submachine gun.

“These’ll work,” he said, unstrapping a long cylindrical suppressor from the case.

“They always do,” said Bugs.

The MP-7 was their preferred primary weapon for these details. Compact and easily concealed, the MP-7 fired a unique 4.6X30mm hardened-steel bullet capable of penetrating soft body armor and some hardened vests at two hundred meters. In close combat on the streets or inside buildings, the bullets passed through car doors and walls, giving them a considerable edge over other compact weapons typically employed in tighter confines.

“And so do these,” said Steven, patting a series of small gray explosive charges used for door or wall breaching.

“Not very discreet,” said Sharpie.

“Only to be used as a last resort.”

“Second to last resort,” replied Sharpie, digging deeper into the case.

He withdrew two plastic-wrapped bricks of orange-colored plastic explosives.

“Semtex? That’s a first,” said Steven, glancing at Bugs.

Without asking, he knew what Bugs was thinking. It was written all over his face. His
spidey sense
was tingling.

Chapter 25

February 8, 2016

Harvard Kennedy School of Government

Cambridge, Massachusetts

Sarge was late for class. A massive pileup on the Mass Turnpike, near the Beacon Park rail yard, forced him to drive the long way, via Beacon Hill and East Cambridge. Ordinarily, he would enjoy the change of scenery, but he had already been running late. He and Julia had a sleepover—devoid of much sleep.

He entered the classroom to a round of throat clearing, followed by sarcastic applause. He gathered his thoughts and brought up the first slide on the screen:

ALL EMPIRES COLLAPSE EVENTUALLY

He turned to the class and took a moment to gauge their reaction.
Let’s see what they think about this topic
.

“Okay, guys, what do you think I mean by this?” asked Sarge.

A few hands shot up. Sarge pointed at a meek student in the back of the room.
Time to come out of your shell
.

“Mr. Lin, what say you?”

“Professor Sargent, I believe that in the history of mankind, every civilization ever formed has eventually disappeared or been replaced,” said Lin.

“How does this come about, Mr. Lin?” asked Sarge.

“They either go broke or get their asses kicked,” said Lin.

This elicited a round of laughter from his classmates. Sarge was also amused.
So much for Mr. Lin’s shell.

“Thank you, Mr. Lin, for that concise, articulate answer,” Sarge chuckled. “All empires collapse eventually when they are defeated by a more powerful enemy or when their funding runs out.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, there have been no exceptions in the history of mankind. Empires are not typically the result of conscious thought. Empires form when a group of people is large enough and powerful enough to impose its will on others—or
kick their asses
,” said Sarge with a nod and smile to Lin.

“But empires are expensive,” continued Sarge. “Throughout history, how did the mighty empires of the world finance themselves?”

Sarge saw the hands pop up. He chose Miss Crepeau.

“To the victor go the spoils,” she replied.

“Exactly. Thank you, Miss Crepeau,” said Sarge. “In the early 1800s, this phrase was coined by a New York politician, but we have President Andrew Jackson to thank for the modern-day patronage system, which is so prevalent in our government today. President Jackson believed it was healthy to clear out the prior administration’s workers and bring in fresh faces. This patronage policy resulted in many
Jacksonian Democrats
, his political supporters, being placed into important government positions.”

Sarge allowed the playful banter between warring political factions in the class to settle down before interrupting.

“Before the Republicans point fingers, I will remind you—the Southern Democrats of the early nineteenth century are the political equivalent of today’s Southern Republican base,” said Sarge.

The class erupted in another round of political posturing.

“So,” said Sarge, pausing to bring the class back to attention, “to Miss Crepeau’s point, empires have historically financed their governments through force and theft. The great empires conquer their lesser opponents, take everything they have, and extort protection money out of the conquered citizens. This is how all of the great empires of the world were formed.

“Some might argue that the United States is different—and in some respects it is,” said Sarge. “America was not formed by conquering another, less powerful opponent, although the Native Americans might disagree. The Founding Fathers sought independence from what they considered oppressive rule from Great Britain. But the formation of the great American empire, if you will, is only part of the equation.”

Sarge brought up a new screen.

Who’s going to pay for this new empire?

“Part two of the formation of a new empire involves financing its operations,” said Sarge. “America didn’t conquer another nation and plunder its wealth. The premise of the American Revolutionary War included a revolt against the implementation of taxes on the citizenry. Clearly, there wasn’t a stomach for that. What did they do to pay for this new government?”

The young law student, Ocampo, eagerly raised his hand.

“Mr. Ocampo,” said Sarge, “what do you think?”

“They fired up the printing presses, sir,” said Ocampo.

“That’s true to an extent,” said Sarge. “The Constitution provided in Article One that the federal government had the sole power
to coin money and regulate the value thereof
. But the Constitution was devoid of reference to paper money. You see, the Founding Fathers had some experience with paper money. The Continental Congress, as Ocampo suggested, fired up the printing presses and financed the American Revolution with a newly minted currency —
continentals
. Unfortunately, although I would argue predictably, the
continentals
became worthless by the end of the war—to the point they were never spoken of again.

“It wasn’t until the Civil War when the National Banking Act was passed that the paper dollar became the fully accepted currency of the land,” said Sarge. “The United States adopted a gold standard, and its currency value became universally accepted. This leads us to one of the most important acts of participation by our country in global governance in its history—the Bretton Woods Conference.”

Sarge changed the slide.

“After the conclusion of World War II, delegates from the forty-four Allied nations participated in the UN Financial and Monetary Conference in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire. This conference produced the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank,” said Sarge. “At the time, the United States was the world’s greatest economic power and had a lot of influence on the agreements reached. Study the history and background of the Bretton Woods system. This is a prime example of the impact of global governance.” Sarge changed the slide again.

The Nixon Shock

“Welcome to the Nixon Shock, the mother of all government economic intervention,” said Sarge. “In essence, among other things, President Nixon abandoned the gold standard and the United States dollar became strictly a fiat currency. This is when we fired up the printing presses, Mr. Ocampo, and we haven’t stopped since.