The Krakow Klub (29 page)

In fact, he had secretly arranged for the
military jet to crash into the Atlantic above a deep trench in the
ocean bed. Twenty thousand feet below the surface was quite a
suitable place to bury the treacherous rat forever.

And now things were moving along quite
smoothly. Operation Plato would
begin
tomorrow
morning and until then he would relax, enjoy a great meal, and get
a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow a new era would dawn. The Stoellar
era. There would be no stopping, no turning back. His juggernaut
was now unstoppable. There would be total victory. He had never
even considered a compromise or a defeat. He hated both those words
vehemently and never, ever used them in any context related to his
personal life.
Defeat
was a term that could
only
be applied
to his hapless
enemy,
and there had been many of those along the
way.

He mentally assessed his cast of key players
in the saga about to begin.

Henry Wilkinson, the new president of the
United States. He was never expected to be more than a lackey, but
now, due to most unusual circumstances, he was seated in the
highest office in the land.

By following Stoellar’s instructions,
Wilkinson had now secured the office of vice president for Carla
Montrose. She was probably the most important person in his plot,
at least initially.

In this never-ending game that put complex
chess strategies to shame, Wilkinson had now become a mere pawn. He
was now
a liability,
and his days, now down to
hours,
were rapidly running out
. Montrose
would succeed him as president, and that would pave the way for the
military takeover of the government.
Once martial law
was was in full effect, Montrose herself would also be expendable.
The fact amused Stoellar greatly. He secretly wished he could do
that one himself, or at least be there to see the deed done. He
knew that he would enjoy it.

Dr. Wesley Newton, the White House physician,
had bought his medical training with a promise to do something
important later. Tomorrow morning he would perform his duty,
and
afterward
he would
also be expendable. Stoellar laughed at the thought of Newton going
out in a blaze of glory. His blaze of glory would certainly not be
the one that he expected.

In the military, General Lew McGowan,
commanding general of ARRCOM, was the most valuable asset to the
Krakow Klub. His unwavering loyalty was
assured,
and he would remain useful for the foreseeable
future. He was in a position to configure any military unit needed
and dispatch it immediately. All he required was an order from the
president.

Colonel William A. Smith, commander of the
Light Armor Stryker Brigade that would secure Washington. One of
the weakest links in Stoellar’s chain of command, but he would be
by close and watched like a hawk. He too was considered expendable
at any time.

Lt. Colonel Stephen R. Collins, the brutal
commander of the Scorpion Battalion, was a most useful player for
the required role, but extremely unpredictable and dangerous. He
was ruthless and totally devoid of conscience. Once he had
fulfilled his special
purpose,
he would have
to go immediately. He was too dangerous to consider using
again.

Stoellar was interrupted from his thoughts by
his secure cell phone. It was Number Eleven.

“Stoellar, I’ve just received news that’s
most disturbing. We may have been compromised. It is imperative
that we speak immediately. I’m on my way to your place now.” The
line went dead.

Stoellar stood
frozen;
the telephone still clutched in his hand. Number Eleven was the
most reliable member of the
group,
and she
wouldn’t call unless something of critical importance had happened.
Could he have missed something? Was there a weak link in the chain?
His mind reeled with the possibilities. He paced the floor until
the sound of the door chimes interrupted his concentration.
Thankfully she had been nearby.

Number Eleven
swept
past
him before the door was completely open. She was obviously
agitated,
and her eyes glittered in a lethal
display of fury.

She dropped into the nearest chair and
demanded a drink. Stoellar poured them both a double shot of
whiskey and sat down across from her.

She snatched the glass from him and took
a large portion in a single swallow
. “Some
months ago, I managed to get one of my people into the West Wing to
monitor things. She’s in a
high-level
staff
position and is a
confidante
of the Chief of
Staff. I pay her handsomely for her
reports,
and
she’s never given me information that was
wrong.”

She drained the glass and held it out for
Stoellar to refill it. “My agent, code name
Electra,
contacted me this morning with some disturbing
news. There was a secret NSC meeting back in
mid-July
called by the then president. All the high mucky
mucks including several highly placed military leaders were in
attendance.

“It seems that the meeting had to do with
that spacecraft
discovered
by a couple of
astronomers. That spacecraft apparently had contact with someone on
our planet and may have provided that person with some of their
advanced technology.”

Stoellar took a sip of his whiskey. “Eleven,
that’s certainly unexpected
news,
but I don’t
see how it could affect our plans. We’ve already set the wheels in
motion, and after tomorrow, there will be no stopping us. You worry
too much.”

“Stoellar, get real.
There
could be some advanced technology involved here; something that
could be used against us
.
It could
mean
serious trouble for us. I’ve had my fingers on the White House
pulse for too long not to recognize the importance of that meeting.
Something weird is going on. That is probably why that traitor of
yours resigned unexpectedly. He knew something that we do not. I
think that something scared him.”

Stoellar was silent, a dark and brooding
silence.

Number Eleven continued, “There was no
official record made of that meeting. All in attendance were sworn
to silence. Electra used all her wiles to extract the information
from a cabinet member whose wife was away at an exclusive spa in
California recovering from her most recent plastic surgery. After
several drinks and some professionally administered sexual
persuasion, he admitted that the meeting was unprecedented. Some
guy who works for the national security advisor made a presentation
that clearly stunned the audience.

“That spaceship was reported to have
tremendous powers. Things that make us look like primitive cave
dwellers. I
n the wrong hands, that kind of technology
could be devastating to our plans.
I managed to get the name
of the person who made the presentation. It was Dr. James
Slater.”

Stoellar swore several oaths in five
different languages. “Find out who he is immediately. We’ve got to
find a way to neutralize him or get him on board.”

“Number One, I’m not stupid. I sent an agent
to get him
,
but he seems to have disappeared.
He disappeared
a couple of
days
ago. However,
one of his neighbors mentioned that he said he
was going to go to the Florida Keys on a vacation. That’s all she
knew.

“But, the plot thickens. I also found out
that this
so-called
vacation came about very
suddenly. He just left word for his boss that he would be gone for
two weeks, effective immediately. Boom, no one’s seen him
since.

“It was, obviously, easy to get his cell
phone
number,
but it seems to have gone
dead.

“Electra, bless her twisted heart, followed
up with Mathew Walker, the national security advisor. Slater is one
of his assistants. She was able to confirm that Slater is on
vacation and that the boss was very unhappy about his breaking
protocol. In fact, he indicated that Slater might
be
subject to dismissal
for insubordination. Electra says that
Walker is a real arrogant jerk who takes pleasure being a
tyrant.”

Stoellar was silent for a moment and then
looked directly into her eyes. “I’m putting you in charge of
Slater. You have methods of persuasion that strike terror into the
hearts of brave men. Just keep your interrogation semi-civilized. I
don’t want any carved up body parts floating ashore down there.
Make it look like he died in an accident or of natural causes.”

She looked down at her carefully manicured
hand. “Of course.” She frowned at a tiny chip in the polish of one
of her nails. “I assure you that I’ll extract the information that
you need and probably a whole lot more before I finish him.

“I’ll start in Miami and find out if he took
a commercial flight down there. He could be anywhere in the Keys.
Don’t worry. I have hackers in China who can access any computer
system and find his travel records.”

With that, she put down her glass, got up,
and headed for the door. At the door, she turned to him,
straightened his tie, and flicked an invisible bit of lint from his
lapel.

“I’ll handle this personally, of course. I’ve
already ordered my pilot to file a flight plan to Miami. My jet is
ready and waiting for me at La Guardia.” With that, she was gone,
leaving only the faint scent of her signature perfume, an innocent
mix of ginger and exotic Eastern flowers.

Stoellar, still in a dour mood,
could not help but notice the lingering aroma.
In spite of
his displeasure at the
news
she had brought
him, she always stirred his sexual urges. As he enjoyed the
lingering scent, he said out loud, “Damn, she is something. One day
I have got to have some of that.”

****

On the flight to Miami, Eleven worked
furiously to locate Slater. No records of his leaving Washington,
no records of an arrival at Miami International, no records at the
general aviation airport in Marathon, and no records at Key West
International.

His car remained in the garage at his
condo,
so he hadn’t driven.

Next, she had her hackers check the records
of charter operations and found nothing. The mystery grew ever
deeper.

There must be someone, somewhere, who knew
where the elusive Slater had gone. She contacted Electra and asked
her to question the neighbor again. This time, Electra told the
elderly lady that Slater
was desperately
needed
for a special assignment from the president. She
thought for several long moments and then remembered something.

“Ah, yes. I do recall that Dr. Slater
mentioning that he would be checking the weather forecast for Key
West. He’d never been there and was wondering about the average
daily temperature this time of the year.”

Electra made the report immediately via
secure satellite telephone. Eleven immediately ordered the pilot to
change his flight plan destination from Miami to Key West. They
would arrive within the hour.

Next, she began checking out the hotels and
inns in Key West along with taxi companies and tour companies.
Still, no Jim Slater.

The dearth of information about how Slater
had planned to get to Key West was troubling. The more
possibilities that were exhausted, the more alarmed Number Eleven
became.

But Number Eleven
would not be
deterred;
she had a brilliant idea. Slater was obviously
going to Key West to meet someone. If that someone
were
the person in contact with the
spacecraft
, then there should be some unusual activities
associated with him.

She called an associate in Miami who gave her
the name of Royce Malone, a colorful old timer from Key West who
kept up with everything and everyone. He knew all the secrets and
gossip and relished in sharing stories with his drinking buddies at
a rundown old bar near one of the marinas. For a few
drinks,
he could be counted on to tell everything he
knew.

Eleven contacted him and arranged a meeting
at The Titanic, his bar of choice. The name suited the place
perfectly. It looked like it had
been dredged
up
from a long spell at the bottom of the sea. He sat at the
back of the bar nursing a rum drink and humming to himself as she
entered. His age was indeterminate. He could have been anywhere
between fifty and seventy. His deeply tanned skin
showed the damage from
untold years in the sun and salt
air. His long hair, streaked with gray, was pulled back into a
ponytail and secured with a pink scrunchie. He smelled of stale
cigarettes and even staler booze.

She seated herself across from him in the
grimy booth. The cheap cracked vinyl seat had been soaked in
alcohol so many times that it smelled like a combination of beer,
rum, and cheap whiskey. It was probably highly flammable due to the
constant exposure to alcohol and she hoped that Malone didn’t drop
his cigarette and cause the whole
place
to
erupt in flames.

She cringed, and reluctantly took a
seat in the booth.

He extended a scrawny hand and offered to
shake hers. She pretended not to notice his gesture as there was no
way on earth that she’d let those tobacco-stained fingers touch
hers. His overall appearance was
unsavory,
but
his sharp blue eyes indicated that he was an intelligent and shrewd
person. Eleven was an expert at reading
people,
and this old codger was no exception.