Port of Baltimore
Baltimore, Maryland
Nadja Katz stared at the laptop screen, a hint of a frown on her lips, something her subconscious told her was the typical human response to what she was watching.
Yet she felt nothing.
Almost nothing.
There were emotions behind the façade she presented the world, but they were muted, subdued. The car accident that had killed her parents and injured her brain when she was younger, had left her…different. The years of abuse in the foster care system in Germany had led her to run away and fend for herself.
It hadn’t been an emotional reaction, it was a logical one. Why would you stay where you were abused, physically, mentally, and sexually?
That was when she had met Dietrich, an ex-East German Stasi spy, who despite reunification, was still busy. He had taught her the trade, taught her to kill, and she had excelled. When you don’t have emotions to get in the way, it’s easy to remain calm when about to make the kill—it reduced the mistakes caused by unchecked adrenaline or a cluttered mind.
When Dietrich had died, she had taken over his business, and eventually found herself employed by the Assembly as he had been, one of their go-to problem solvers. That was until they had betrayed her, deciding she knew too much. She had witnessed the purge triggered by the CIA identifying some of their members, but had survived the Assembly’s attempt on her life.
And had vowed revenge.
It was an odd emotion, one she had actually taken some pleasure in—another odd emotion. But it was also a logical reaction. The Assembly wanted her dead, and with the power they had, they would eventually succeed.
Unless she could eliminate them first—a tall order considering they had been around for generations, their rank of twelve ruling members replenished as needed, none knowing who those who came before them were. They rarely if ever met together, almost always meeting by video conference, the system configured so each could only see the faces of those they helped recruit.
When she had been privy to these conversations, where she would never see any of the faces as she wasn’t an Assembly Council member, it always made her wonder who Number One was. He was the oldest recruit, though not necessarily the oldest in age. He may have been recruited when he was thirty or forty, others in their sixties. She hadn’t known who they were, except that they were powerful men, all controlling vast amounts of wealth, whether through corporations they owned or inherited, or positions they occupied.
She did know they felt their role was altruistic. They were there to better humankind over the long term, so they placed little value on the individual. From what she had gathered, the Assembly’s current goal was one of renewal.
They wanted a war.
A global war.
They wanted to shatter a system they considered broken, and from its ashes, create a stronger, more sustainable one. It was evident from overheard conversations that they felt Western governments had become weak, unable to deal with the threats Islam, the Chinese, and a resurgent Russia posed. Their belief was that if they could trigger the next war, the United States and her allies would be forced to make the decisions they refused to make today, and in the end, they would be victorious, triumphing over their enemies, with a form of government that would necessarily be more firm in its dealings with groups that were only concerned with themselves, and not the greater good. A government that would stamp out nuisances before they became problems. A government that would lead the world forward for generations allowing humankind to achieve a new golden age.
All laudable goals, in her damaged mind, but how many had to die to achieve them? Today, surprisingly, that number had been low, and those that had died, had not been innocent. One of the mistakes the Assembly had made in failing to kill her, was not scrapping their entire communications network and intelligence infrastructure. She had intimate knowledge of everything, and changing passwords and IP addresses wasn’t enough.
She knew where they kept the bodies.
Literally.
She knew where the safe houses were, where the holding cells were, where their secret communication sites were. And the Assembly had kept most of them, only closing down those they thought she knew about. What they hadn’t known was that she had been privy to far more than they realized, her mentor, Dietrich, having kept an extensive file on them, his dealings spanning decades.
They hadn’t known this.
This had allowed her to regain access to their communications, and when she had heard what they planned yesterday, she took action. Their ultimate goal wasn’t her concern. If they wiped out half the planet to save the other half, she didn’t care, though she’d prefer to be on the half that wasn’t wiped out. She had a sense she’d excel in a future that relied on the strength of the individual, at least for the short term.
The goals of the Assembly weren’t her concern, though they would be to the governments they hoped to reshape, and with their help, she’d perhaps achieve her own selfish goal—the elimination of the Assembly, once and for all. It was a goal she couldn’t achieve alone, but with the help of the Americans, she just might succeed.
Unfortunately, she was a wanted murderer, her work for the Assembly costing far too many lives on American soil to be forgiven, so she needed leverage that could assure her freedom.
The corners of her mouth hinted at a smile as she watched the video feed on her laptop, her leverage arriving.
Lee Fang struggled to control her breathing, this the first action she had seen in a while, her training lapsed. They had drugged her once they had reached the rooftop in the chopper, a large H and red cross on the landing pad suggesting it was a hospital. The spray that had hit her face had been pungent, and she recognized it as an aerosolized carfentanil, something she had used herself in her previous life. She had held her breath, avoiding the initial inhalation, but a swift punch to the gut had caused her to gasp in the second spray, and she had been out within seconds.
She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but judging from the overwhelming bladder pressure and the taste in her mouth, it had been awhile, perhaps even a day.
They must have kept me drugged.
She was now in some sort of road vehicle, a hood over her head, her hands and feet bound with what she sensed were zip ties. They’d be easy enough to get out of if given the opportunity, though that was probably unlikely. Kane had put up one hell of a fight, eliminating the entire ground operation, but who could have expected a chopper with a sonic weapon? Without the proper gear, there was no way to defeat it, especially when taken by surprise. The only defense was to leave the area, not an option for the man she loved.
I hope he’s okay.
He had still been alive when the chopper took off, and she had no reason to believe there were any more hostiles on the ground to pose a challenge, which was an interesting bit of information she had only now begun to ponder. Why had they taken her, and why had they left him alive?
The initial group that had kidnapped her had been Chinese. She had at first assumed her government had come to reclaim their asset, and didn’t want to kill any Americans in the process. But they were too Chinese. Chinese decoy, Chinese team members, Chinese weapons. If her government were after her, they wouldn’t have made it so obvious.
Or so public.
And those who had arrived in the chopper were white, and everything she had heard since her capture had been in Russian, a language she happened to be fluent in, though she wouldn’t let them know that tidbit yet. It wouldn’t be unheard of for her government to hire an outside team, yet if they had, why was the initial team all Chinese?
It didn’t make sense. Something else was going on here, and for the moment, she had no clue what it was. For now, it appeared they wanted her alive, either to extract information from her, or to deliver her to someone who would later kill her. Her government would torture her for weeks or months, then either make a public spectacle of her, or more likely, as she had come under American protection, kill her quietly.
Yet she still wasn’t convinced they were behind this. If they knew where she was, they could have grabbed her at any time. Why would they have done it during one of the rare occasions a trained-CIA operator was with her? Surely, the wiser, safer move would have been to wait until he was back on assignment. She’d have been one against a dozen with no hope of winning. Instead, they had taken her while with Kane, and left him alive. It suggested the team sent to abduct her had been waiting for a go-no go order, and it had arrived at a time not of their choosing.
The fact nothing had been said to her since her abduction had her wondering if perhaps she wasn’t the real target at all. Perhaps Kane was the target, and she was merely leverage to hold over him. The thought had her chest tightening. If she could talk to him now, she’d tell him to let her die. She didn’t want to be anyone’s pawn, and she didn’t want anyone hurt because of her. She let out a long, slow breath.
If it comes down to it, I’ll kill myself.
“We’re here. Is our guy on the gate?”
“Yeah, just flash your lights twice as you approach, he’ll wave us through.”
The vehicle slowed slightly then sped back up.
“That was easy. Gotta love port security.”
There was a round of chuckles. Four of them. All men.
“Do you have the container number?”
“Yeah. Just keep going, it’s ready to be loaded. The other target is already there.”
Other target?
She wasn’t the only one? If that was the case, then it almost definitely wasn’t the Chinese government, unless they were repatriating two former citizens at the same time. It was possible, though she doubted it. These types of operations didn’t have budgets. They wouldn’t take two of their people at once just to save money—it doubled the risk, and it doubled the chances of the operation failing.
And it could put two highly trained operatives together, who might just figure out a way to escape.
No, something else was definitely going on here. A Chinese crew and a Russian crew, a broad daylight takedown with Kane present and left alive, and a second target.
“There it is.”
They turned then came to a stop, three doors opening. The vehicle rocked then the door beside her opened.
“Get out,” said someone in English, the accent thick.
She swung her legs out and felt a tug on them as the bindings were cut. A firm grip on her arm helped her down to the ground, the drop suggesting an SUV. She was led about thirty paces, the sounds of what was clearly a shipping port, surrounding her. Then she was in an echo chamber.
“Enjoy your trip.”
She was shoved hard and stumbled forward, falling on her knees. Metal clanged, probably doors, followed by muffled silence. She reached up and yanked the hood off her head, finding total darkness. Though that wasn’t entirely accurate. There were a few slivers of light near the door, and a red light at the far end of whatever she was in. By the metallic, rusted smell, she guessed a shipping container.
“Hello?”
She flinched, the voice echoing around her. She rolled on her back, stretching out her arms and curling her legs up. She pushed her feet through her arms, her bound hands now behind her. She pushed to her feet then pulled her hands apart as hard as she could before thrusting them up and her bum down.
The ties snapped.
“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes slowly adjusting, though not enough to see anyone.
“You first.”
Fang grunted. “I don’t think so. Tell me your first name, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Sherrie.”
Fang’s eyes narrowed. “Fang.”
“Lee Fang?”
Fang smiled slightly. “Sherrie White?”
“Oh my God, yes! They took you too?”
“It would appear so. Do you know—”
She was tossed off her feet as the floor shifted, the entire room creaking as they were picked up into the air.
Definitely a shipping container.
Which meant they were about to be put on a ship and sent to God knows where.
“I don’t think we’re getting out of this anytime soon.”
Nadja Katz stood on the shipping container, holding onto one of the cables as she swung the mass of metal using the remote control for the crane system. The container with the two hostages was lifting toward a massive cargo ship to her right. She had one chance at this, but she wasn’t worried.
Worrying was pointless.
In fact, the only reason her heart rate was up a few points was the physical aspect of what she was doing. She pushed the joystick with her thumb and the boom swung her toward her target. She killed the motion, the container arcing high and to the right as she tossed the controller aside. She bent her knees and shoved off, sailing through the air, landing on the target container with ease, tumbling forward then onto her knees.
She pulled a suction cup speaker from her belt then stuck it to the metal container and activated her headset. “Move away from the door. Now.” She scurried to the front as someone below noticed what was going on, gunshots pinging off the thick metal skin of the container.
They had no angle on her.
She rushed forward and flipped over the side, one hand gripping the rim of the door, the other pulling a brick of plastic explosives from her belt. She slapped it on the lock in mid-swing then continued, flipping her legs back up on the side.
“Final warning, move to the back. Blowing in three… two… one…” She activated the trigger, a small blast rippling through the metal, the doors flying open. She swung inside, pulling her flashlight out and shining it at the two occupants. She didn’t know the Chinese woman beyond what she had read in her file, but she knew the American.
Katz had shot her a little over a year ago.
Fortunately, the woman couldn’t see her face, Katz making a point of keeping the light shining in her eyes. She tossed the Chinese woman a knife. “Cut her loose.”
Fang wisely didn’t ask any questions, instead freeing Sherrie White of her bonds while Katz secured a rope to a tie-down anchor on the floor. She handed two Glocks over. “Everything below is hostile. Understood?”
Sherrie nodded. “Yes. Who the hell are you?”
“A friend.” Katz jumped over the side, letting the rope slide through her gloved hands, firing at the Russian team sent by the Assembly, two dropping immediately, the other two running for cover. Gunfire from above tore through the air and another dropped, causing the final man to hesitate, and, unwisely, make a stand. He opened fire on them, spraying the air with unaimed lead.
Someone cried out above her.
Katz took aim and silenced the weapon as her feet hit the ground. She stepped away and Fang landed beside her with a thud, Sherrie following a moment later, her descent controlled. Fang was gripping her side, blood oozing through her fingers.
Katz pointed at her, keeping her face turned away. “Pick her up and follow me.” She sprinted between the stacks of containers, toward her vehicle. Rounding the corner, she held out the fob, the lights flashing as the doors unlocked. She opened up the rear and urged the two women inside.
“She’s going to need a doctor,” said Sherrie as she helped roll Fang into the back of the van.
“Just keep pressure on the wound for now.”
“Wait a minute, I know—”
Katz spun, shoving the heel of her hand into Sherrie’s chest, sending her tumbling into the back of the van, then slammed the doors shut. She pressed the fob to lock the doors, then held it in. An indicator on the fob flashed then a hissing sound could be heard as knockout gas filled the rear of the van.
Katz climbed into the front cab as the two women in the back struggled to get out, their attempts waning as the gas took hold. There was a thud, then another, as both lost consciousness. Katz started the vehicle and pulled away, heading for the front gate and flashing her lights, the guard, on the Assembly payroll, waving her through.
Now for Phase Two.