Serve in the Shadows Recruitment, page 14
“There is the King and Queen of Spain.” Grant appeared at his shoulder pointing out to the first row. “That is the Saudi ambassador beside them!”
“Guessing that both are the target or one with a bonus.”
Throughout the auditorium, a softly muted chime sounded while the lights began to dim. It was a signal for the audience to take seats as the performance would begin shortly.
A quick look showed there were guards at the back of the auditorium and at the exits.
“We have to clear everyone out of the –"
Derek was cut off as a large meaty hand clamped down on his left shoulder and spinning him around.
“What are you doing here?”
A guard, dressed in a nice black suit and wearing an earpiece, stood towering over Derek with index finger pointing at his face. When Derek spun around the guard saw his face and he grinned baring his teeth and poked him in the chest with the same finger.
“You are mine now, motherfucker!”
Without time to think, Derek quickly reached up and grabbed the pointing finger, turning it upside down then lifting it straight up. This made the guard stand up on his tiptoes while his arm straightened, the intense pain and pressure on his bent finger made his back arch and a grimace of horrible pain shot across his face.
“YOU listen to me. I believe there are enough explosives out there to kill everyone, especially those that are in the front row!”
Derek has almost reached his breaking point with stupid people not listening.
“The Saudi Prince Abdul-Hamid Al Saud Saraf employed a bomb maker, and those bombs were sent to THIS PLACE last night. That prince is a cousin to the ambassador who is sitting right there! Beside the king…”
Derek used his other hand to gesture out to the front row of the theatre.
“Are you starting to understand or do you need me to explain again, using smaller words?”
He lessened the tension on the index finger allowing the guard to stop dancing on his toes. Despite the intense pain immobilizing him, the guard’s eye opened wide in shock, and finally understanding. Having been in the Mando de Special Operaciones Especiales (Special Operations of the Spanish Army) for over twenty-three years, he has met many men exactly like this, many times over. No nonsense, tough as nails, senior non-commissioned officers.
Letting go of his finger, Derek stepped back and raised both empty palms in the air. The guard started to shake out the pain in his finger and spoke after taking a deep breath. “How sure are you of this information?”
“One hundred percent.”
“I need to make one quick phone call to my boss.” The guard pulled out a smartphone and started to call.
“I am not sure how much time we have, probably very little.” Grant started looking around nervously.
At this point, an old clanging fire bell went off and resonated throughout the length of the building, causing many to become startled and jump.
Looking out behind the side stage, Derek could see everyone in the audience standing quickly while looking around in apprehension. Two sets of guards moved to the front of the theater seating and flanked the king and queen and the ambassador and his wife and started to move them out.
Backstage, all the girls became nervous as a few of the teachers tried to guide them to the nearest fire exit, which was back the way they came. Out through the fire doors then right through the emergency exit on the north side of the long structure.
At the first ring of the fire bells, the doors released from their magnetic locks, closing throughout the entire building.
Looking up Grant said, “Derek the sprinkler system should have started by now, and it isn’t.”
The girls were headed to the door led by their instructor, however, once they got to the double fire doors, they would not open. They seemed to be locked from the other side, despite their best efforts to open them.
Derek looked out over the crowd. All doors exiting the auditorium were closed, and no one seemed to be able to open them either. People began panicking and yelling over the alarm.
The guard tried to get a signal on this phone, with no luck. “Great, what else could go wrong.” All the sudden, all lights in the building went out at once, without the emergency lighting system kicked in.
“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Derek mumbled.
“We are fucked…”
Derek silently agreed.
Chapter 42
Having just left a positive meeting with Director Talbot with the green light given to proceed, John Hubble raced back to his office. The ringing of his phone could be heard out in the hallway, and when passing his secretary, he could see she seemed to be juggling two phone calls at once.
Picking up the phone, he noticed the Secure Line Transit (SLT) option light up on the display.
“Go,” Hubble spoke into the phone not wasting time.
“Unable to reach the Saudi guards or La Guardia Real. There is a police station beside the Ballet National, and they are going over there now with whatever personnel they have.” The Station Chief in Madrid had a deep, gravel-like voice which usually soothed anyone that he was talking with. This time, however, it had the opposite effect on Hubble.
“Get your ass over there now with what assistance you can get. We have one operative on the ground, Derek Lawson. Move out.”
Without waiting for a reply, Hubble hung up and sat down. A quick check showed he had no assets or control teams in the area except the station chief.
Operative.
Unsure of the word to call Grant’s brother, Hubble seemed to know that definition fit the bill quite nicely. Derek was certainly performing at the level required.
Looking at the Madrid local time, Hubble hoped the station chief would be able to get there in time to prevent a catastrophe.
Knowing he had done all he could at the moment, John Hubble closed that book in his mind dealing with this situation and opened another. Moving to the door of his office he leaned and said, “Liana, get me the station chief in Saudi Arabia and their ambassador in a call. Time to talk with the Saudi king.”
*****
Mustafa had dropped his daughter off at the learning center. The CIA had rehabilitation programs for families to try and integrate back into society, and trauma service. With Sonja being the last member of his family, he wished nothing but the best care for her.
After a few counseling sessions Mustafa could already see a difference, and while she would never forget, they believed she was on the road to recovery.
Despite the fact that he was “saved” and being aided by the CIA, Mustafa knew that that freedom would be temporary, and his movements were being tracked. It cost him days of being questioned and being followed. Although he was grateful to the man who saved him and the United States government, Mustafa had to look after Sonja and himself first.
Yesterday while he walked his daughter to the counseling sessions Mustafa passed a new breakfast diner. Today after dropping his daughter off he asked his minders if it were okay to go in. The two men looked at each other and shrugged. Far as they knew there were no reason why he couldn’t eat breakfast. Mustafa went inside the diner sitting at a booth near the front. Within seconds, his two guardians followed him in, sitting at a table in full view across the floor. There we a scattering of other patrons throughout.
“What can I get for you to start?”
The waitress walked over laying down a tablet on the table.
“Black coffee, thank you.”
“Coming right up!” She walked away and followed the same routine for his minders.
The tablet showed a “Menu” option, as well as an “Entertainment” icon for kids to keep them amused.
Perfect.
After looking through the menu quickly, Mustafa lay down the tablet. Within a few seconds, the waitress showed up.
“What can I get for you?”
“Three poached eggs and an order of white toast please.”
“No problem, just a few minutes.”
The waitress reached down for the tablet.
“I would like to look at it longer, if possible?”
“No problem,” she said smiling. “There are a few games in there for adults too.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress went off to the two guards. Once they saw that Mustafa ordered and he wasn’t in a hurry to leave, they decided to order as well.
Once they were occupied, Mustafa took the tablet and held the power button in, causing the tablet to restart.
While the tablet rebooted, he held the “Home” button and volume down button in.
Instead of opening up to the diner’s menu page, the tablet showed a service diagnostic page. Twenty seconds later, Mustafa started navigating his way into a website portal for the deep web The Onion Router.
With a series of login’s and passwords, Mustafa confirmed his identity and soon had access to the Black-Market auction house. The place where secrets could be bought and sold.
It didn’t take long before Mustafa reset the tablet once again and leaned back in the booth sipping his coffee. Time to look out for number one… and they will pay for what they did.
Chapter 43
Derek could see most people had pulled out their phones, with the LED flashlight or screen lighting up the area around them. The good news, it seemed that almost everyone in the audience had a phone, although it appeared that none of them were receiving a signal.
“Derek, we should be almost out of time. Think!”
Bringing his hand up to the side of his face, Derek looked around at the growing chaos and ran over to the teacher trying to calm down the young ladies.
“Is there any other way out of here?” Derek had to shout to be heard over the growing noise of people yelling and banging on the locked doors and the fire alarm.
“Just this exit, or the ….” she trailed off thinking. “There is another way, but it doesn’t go very far, just to a large room then a hallway with additional prop rooms.”
“Quick, what is it?”
“There are two trap doors in the stage floor, that lead down. They are used for certain performances to get large groups on stage or to move scenery.”
“Show me. Now!”
Running out on to the upstage area in front of the curtain, she pointed to two large doors hidden into the flooring. There didn’t seem to be any handle or opening for the doors to open, one trap measured four by four feet and the second a little more rectangle, they were outlined by seams in the stage floor.
“How do they open?”
By now the audience members started taking note that none of the doors were opening, and they turned their attention to the two people on stage. Over one hundred phones turned to illuminate the area.
“They can be opened only from underneath by stagehands, and they go in through the access door.” She ran over to a small door hatch just to the other side of the stage behind the curtain.
Opening the hatch, Derek looked down into the darkness, pulled out his flashlight, and shone it down. A series of well-worn wooden ladder rungs set into the side of the shaft going down about six and a half feet.
“Get everyone on stage and ready to go down. We have to leave this room quickly!”
“Is there a –”
Derek cut her off, “I will meet you at the opening.”
With her eyes opened wide in shock, she couldn’t speak, but only nod as she ran off.
Climbing down, Derek could see many props and a smoke machine, and what looked like a little rest area for the stagehands. Water bottles sat on a small table with a chess board in mid-game.
Directly under the center stage, a manual hydraulic scissor lift stood under the smaller trap, and at the back, a large two-foot-thick crash cushion lay under the larger trap.
Bringing the step ladder over, Derek reached up and released the two latch bolts on the one side, and after leaning to the far side, he did the same with the other bolts. Once the last set released, the large door swung down on hinges.
Climbing up through the trap, Derek saw that the lady had the young girls gathered around. Two of the guards had moved into either side of one of the twelve-year-old girls.
“Get everyone down and out of the way. Everyone else will be joining them.”
As he started running out around the curtain, Derek could see the girls started to jump down through the trap in the floor. Once on stage, he became the center of attention again as the cell phone illumination lit him up.
Bringing four fingers up to his lips, Derek let out a piercing whistle, getting everyone’s attention.
In his best parade ground drill voice, “I need everyone on stage now, and through the trap door! Let’s go!”
“Is this a drill…?”
“Who is he?”
“What is going on?”
Derek could hear various questions and people yelling, but only a few were moving to the front.
With the perfect acoustics of the theatre, Derek yelled loud enough to be clearly heard in every square inch of the place, “You have two minutes to leave this room, or you will be blown up. MOVE!”
The command assurance in his voice caused an immediate reaction. The guards flanking the king and queen fairly picked them up and ran them up the side stage stairs to the back. On their heels were the guards for the ambassador and his wife.
Behind them streamed a parade of the audience members. Some moved slowly due to age, but were carried along by others.
“Jump down there is a thick cushion at the bottom. Once you land, move to the sides, as others are coming right behind you.”
Derek kept repeating the statement a few times nice and loud, like a service announcement at a carnival ride.
A steady stream of people went down through the trap door, with more than a few being hesitant, but a push from behind got them over the edge just as effectively. A few shouts of pain were heard, but those people were quickly pulled off the mat by those helping below.
“Derek, that’s the last of them.” Grant appeared beside him pointing over at the remaining people. Very incredible how quickly over one hundred and fifty people could move when they were motivated.
Once the cell phone reception failed, Derek knew they had little time. The countdown clock in his head continued, and he knew they were cutting it close.
Too close.
The last person, who seemed in his late eighties or so, moved slowly with a cane. Derek walked him to the edge and threw the cane down the trap and wrapped his arms around him, both falling sideways on to the crash mat below.
Eager hands pulled them off the mat and moved them off to the side. The short hallway off the side and the prop rooms in the back were full of panicking people.
Derek grabbed the ladder and swung the trap door back up into the closed position, throwing the latch bolts locked on both sides.
The access door!
Knowing that he forgot to close the door, Derek ran through the packed people and up the wooden ladder and looking out over the back of the stage area to make sure no one remained.
At that time the bombs all went off with a noise like thunder, and everyone could feel the crump.
Derek had no time to react as the darkness quickly descended upon him, much akin to being smote in the forehead with a hammer.
Chapter 44
Wray Sawyer, the Station Chief for Madrid, only had time to gather two security personnel and jump into the embassy limousine before the driver took off to the Ballet Nacional. Normally, the drive would take fifteen minutes on any given day, but with encouragement, the driver made it there in less than eight minutes.
Many vehicles along the main roads were passed along the shoulders, and more than a few were cut off. Honking and the one finger salute followed the limousine for many miles.
During the hectic ride, Wray had time to brief the other two on the situation. Due to legalities, he was the only one able to carry a firearm outside off the embassy property, diplomatic immunity covered his ass.
Once they pulled off the Paseo de las Delicias, they could hear the sirens over four blocks away. Firetrucks and ambulances blocked the street immediately south of the Ballet Nacional, and police officers kept directing traffic away from that area.
Wray had the driver get as close as he could before they were redirected, and he jumped out with two others on his heels. Already he could see smoke billowing up from the north end of the building.
Pulling out his phone, the station chief showed the two guards a picture of the master sergeant. “Find him and ensure his safety. Report to me ASAP.”
They disappeared into the growing crowd of spectators and emergency personnel. Looking up, Wray could see a tactical helicopter circling the area and hovering over the Manzanares River and the traffic cloverleaf. With the side door of the helicopter in the locked open position, a .50 caliber machine gun being manned scanned the area.
The people at La Guardia Real were not just dedicated to the protection of the king and queen but were also members of an elite Special Forces unit within the Spanish Army, with all the equipment and training required. Their crest decorated the tail section of the helicopter in a bold golden flash.
Walking closer to the north end of the building, Wray could hear crowds cheering and a scattering of applause. Firefighters were leading groups of people out of the building, through a rather large hole in the wall, into the waiting arms of the paramedics. A scattering of debris and bricks lay across the sidewalk and the road from the explosion.
The station chief saw his two assistants run into the building through the same hole, despite being yelled at by the firemen.
The cheering turned into a roar when a set of guards exited the building guiding the king and queen. The queen held tightly to her daughter, and they all seemed to be okay, if not shaken up still. The king quickly waived off any assistance, and he turned to help others leave the building.
The small fires that the explosion caused were under control, and the fire crews entered the building to assess the damage.
