After the court proceedings, Ken Wang was totally exhausted. He had gone straight from his plane to meet Kurt in the airport, then the limousine and his futile courthouse visit. Having collected his luggage from the hotel concierge, he pushed through the doorway to his room, left his bag leaning against the wall and stepped into the bathroom to wash his face. He held his hands under the running water as it warmed, glancing at his watch. The hotel room had been booked from Australia the previous day under an alias.
Ken would not have a catch-up meeting with Wiggins until the next evening. Cahoon agreed to see him in the morning. Have I really been awake for thirty-nine hours? What the hell is the time difference, anyway?
Just then the door chimed. Not now! Ken thought, splashing warm water on his face. Towel in hand, he pulled open the door, not attempting to hide his irritation at the intrusion. An elderly man with straggly white hair and an unkempt beard stood in the doorway, pushing a cart. The man was dressed in a hotel uniform, at least one size too small. Ken studied the cart and covered tray. “Not now,” Ken said. “Please.” He started to close the door.
One foot slid past the threshold. “Compliments of the manager,” the old man said, adding in a whisper, “Let me in, Ken, for Christ’s sake!” So much for my assumed name, Ken thought. Then he saw the man’s eyes. Bill!
“Okay,” he said. “Just leave it inside.”
The cart rattled in, and Dornan straightened up. “Your room might be bugged,” he whispered, busily rattling dishes. “Over here?” he asked out loud, picking up a tray of cheeses and fruit.
“Sure,” Ken said, following him to the table. “I need you to put money in this account,” Dornan whispered, pointing to a yellow note on the tray.
“That’s a helluva lot of money,” Ken whispered.
Dornan corked a wine bottle. “Desperate times,” he whispered, “desperate measures.” Then he poured a sample of the wine. “Excellent label,” he said aloud. “Please give it a taste.”
Ken sipped. “Fine.”
“Keep everyone away from John in jail,” Dornan whispered, “except you and Wiggins.”
“Yes, very good,” Ken said.
Dornan filled the glass to the top. “You can thank the manager, Mr. Long,” using Ken’s alias. Then Bill whispered, “Below the account number is my cellphone. Call me from a secure land line or an encrypted sat-phone.” Ken nodded. “Is there anything else I can bring, sir?” Dornan said out loud.
“Not at the moment,” Ken said. “When do you need the money?” he whispered.
“Tomorrow morning,” Dornan mouthed.
Ken nodded. “Very good, then.”
“I hope your stay is a pleasant one.”
“Me, too,” Ken said.
As soon as the door closed, Ken drained the wineglass. Should I have tipped him?
——
Hi-Cap Consulting occupied a small suite of offices in a bank building three blocks from the old Space Needle. Dr. Harold S. Forrest looked up from his desk at the sturdy man in the snow dusted greatcoat. Dornan removed his floppy hat, revealing a gleaming bald head.
“Colonel?”
Bill Dornan grinned. “You have a good eye for antiques.”
“Son of a goat, Bill, you don’t look a day over a hundred.” Harry Forrest slapped his desk and rose to greet his old friend. Grinning widely, he held out his hand. “Damn, it’s good to see you. What have you been up to?”
Dornan shook Harry’s hand, pulled off his greatcoat and slipped it on the metal tree all in a single fluid movement. “You don’t follow the news?”
“What news? You aren’t in some kind of trouble again are you?” Dr. Forrest motioned to the adjacent conference room. “Of course you are. Coffee?” he asked.
Dornan shook his head, following Forrest into a room holding a large conference table equipped with several embedded touch screens. “Trouble? Now why would that be the first thing that came to mind?”
“Bill, you don’t write; you don’t call; and you certainly never pay house visits,” Forrest plopped down in a chair. “Except when you are in a bind.”
Dornan quietly closed the door. Harry was a jovial figure, lean, graying, dressed in a pressed blue button-down shirt, rolled up sleeves and a dangling bow tie, the picture of a professor emeritus enjoying a second career, which he was.
“Ever so perceptive, Professor.”
“It’s a no-brainer, my friend. You’re always in trouble. So what can I do for you this time?”
“Just how secure are we here?” Dornan asked.
“Very. We’re in a cage. No electromagnetic in, no EM out.”
“Great,” Dornan said. “You haven’t lost your touch since you left the War College.” He sat, leaning back in a wheeled chair, rolling it back and forth. Harry gave him a quizzical look. “Here’s the deal,” Dornan said. “I’m working for a friend who is in trouble.”
“And that friend would be?”
“Dr. John Owen.”
That earned a long, thoughtful pause. “I see. Well, I do keep up. You wouldn’t have been involved in that escape attempt, would you?” Dornan nodded, and Professor Forrest whistled. “Now that I think of it, that operation had your signature.”
“Right. It was a complete cock-up.”
“I didn’t mean the outcome. I could see your fine handiwork in the plan: a double, staging an assassination attempt. It would have worked, but you were betrayed from the inside. Am I right?”
“Just as sharp as you always were, Professor. Yes. I’m sure it was our Owen double. I watched the operation from a roof while they pulled over our ambulance. The double was treated like one of the guys by the Commission agents.” Dornan’s face went bleak. “Just before they shot two of my best men.”
“Damn shame.”
“So I need a brilliant tactician. Another keen mind. You.” Bill produced a sheaf of papers from his suit jacket, and spread them out on the conference table. “Area map. And these are the plans for the federal building. They show all remodeling changes through last year.”
Forrest stared for a minute. “You don’t…”
“We’ll pay your exorbitant rates, of course.” Dornan traced one scarred forefinger along the plans. “Dr. Owen is in the jail down here. He travels up this elevator to court. This back corridor is dedicated to prisoner transport, and it leads directly to the custody entrance next to the Marshal’s booking station.”
Harry Forrest took in a deep breath. “You’re seriously thinking extraction from there?” Dornan nodded. “You sure know how to pick ’em.”
“John Owen’s trial on these technology charges starts Tuesday of next week. Somebody from the G-A-N will definitely try to kill him before the case is over. Harry, I need a Forrest plan. Not just a good one. Your best one.”
“I’m in.” Harry had not hesitated. The old twinkle had returned to the professor’s eyes. “You didn’t think I’d turn this down, did you? So what are your mission parameters?”
“I was just getting to that, Harry. First, assume a big budget and all the right personnel.”
“I hope you mean that. A very big budget and the very best team, and a Forrest plan that will be actually followed this time.” Harry’s eyes had begun to glow with the joy of a precocious boy at the controls of a modern fighter jet.
“Yes, yes and—of course yes. But it will take a perfect Forrest plan. There are five general parameters: One: Start-time. We can’t afford to delay past the second day of the trial.”
“That gives you only five days from now.”
“Tops. Number two: We need tactical surprise.”
“Good luck with that. The botched escape attempt will have put them on full alert.”
“I agree it blew our strategic surprise. But they won’t necessarily be expecting an assault.”
“For good reason, Bill. It’s full-on crazy.”
“I am aware. Three: Hostile fire suppression must be total but managed with no casualties, except as required to stop an attack on John Owen.”
Dr. Forrest frowned, shaking his head. “You know that’s very unrealistic, Bill. The federal building is crawling with armed Marshals. Somebody always gets hurt in a firefight.” He gave Dornan one of his candid classroom looks. “Why this constraint?”
“The Marshals and the spectators are not the bad guys.”
“Except that the Marshals are holding Dr. John Owen in a life-threatening situation. Just how badly do you want your man extracted? There is always some collateral damage. You of all people know how it works.”
“I know it will be very difficult. But we’ve pulled off an extraction without killing civilians and well behaved police before…using a Forrest plan, if I recall. If my team is attacked, obviously they will be as practical as the situation calls for. But John and I discussed this problem when he first surrendered. John really believes that the good guys will eventually win the political struggle. When that happens, John wants to be able to come home in safety. I can’t afford make his legal problems any worse than they already are.”
“So killing innocent bystanders is frowned on.”
“Exactly.”
“The fourth parameter?”
“Lightning speed execution. We must complete the extraction—at least by getting John out of the zone of immediate danger—within ninety seconds from the moment that the bad guys are tipped off.”
“That short?”
“At least that short. We can never account for all the weapons, even in a courtroom. Ninety seconds may eighty seconds too long. If John is hurt, we will need every half-second to get to help to him, which is the reason for the fifth parameter. We are to keep a fully equipped trauma team close by.”
Dr. Forrest shook his head as if Dornan were a teenager who had just asked his father to buy him a small plane on his allowance. “Let me look at that building again.” There was a long pause. “I’ll be honest, Bill. The best plan in the world may fail here. So I have some tough questions and real concerns.”
“Such as?”
“One. Getting Dr. Owen out of that jail is out of the question. Can you bribe a few Marshals?”
“Not likely.”
“Two. The prisoner elevator is very secure, presenting the same problem. Three. The courtroom is fifteen stories up.” He paused. “I really don’t like this element.” Dornan raised an eyebrow. Dr. Forrest paused again, glowering. “Actually I do love the challenge.” Harry’s twinkle returned. “Assume we somehow get your team into the courtroom, carrying live weapons. That scenario works only when court is in session or your man won’t be there, correct?”
“Correct.”
“And that means a large audience. Media. The general public. Probably one or more of the very assassins you are worried about.”
“Also correct.”
“In that scenario, you just cannot afford to limit your commandos to non-lethal weaponry.”
“Point conceded. Those technologies aren’t fast enough. We just can’t take the chance. So I’ll be in the lead, carrying most of the deadly stuff and controlling the rest.”
“Well then. It follows—as night follows noon—that the odds for extracting Owen from a crowded courtroom without a deadly firefight are improved…all the way to two to one against.”
“That good?”
“That good. If it goes sideways in the slightest, you can expect casualties.”
“On the bright side, there might only be two or three hostile weapons in the courtroom,” Dornan said. “The Marshals were restricted to two under the rules the judge originally agreed to. Add one more for an assassin and you get three.”
“Sure.” Forrest rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “You know what, Bill? It may not turn out the way you need it to be. Assume there will be other guns. We need to plan for a bunch of dead civilian bodies. And Dr. Owen himself could be among the carnage, especially if your assassin in the audience comes with a large magazine…or a couple of helpers.”
“What exactly are you asking, Forrest?”
“Softer parameters, please.”
“And I need a villa in Florence.”
“I can’t do it. I thought I’d never hear myself saying that.”
“Then John Owen is a dead man.”
Then Harry Forrest gave Bill his “Aw shucks, I was just screwing with you” smile. The professor then stood and stretched. “One thing is missing—even with the perfect Forrest plan.”
“A miracle?”
“A run of improbably good luck would certainly help.”
“You will think it through then?” Dornan asked.
“I’ve already got an idea. A very expensive one.”
Bill smiled. “I knew it would be.”
——
One hour later, Forrest returned to the conference room, obviously in a good mood. “Put that pizza down, Colonel.” He spread out a city map next to the building diagram, obviously pleased with himself. “I had to think outside the box. Very outside.”
“And?”
“This is what you will need.” Forrest pushed the pizza carton aside and slid over a printed list. “It will be taught at the War College as a classic extraction plan, if I do say so, myself. But there are no guarantees.”
Dornan stared at Dr. Forrest’s mission outline and the procurement list. A full minute went by in silence. “Ouch,” he finally said. “I think I can get us everything. But that big item…?”
“I told you this would be expensive.”