Chapter 9

“I am reporting to you from Gaborone, Botswana,” the reporter begins, smiling at the camera. “Many of the cities including Pretoria have been taken over and are now in control by the Russian and Chinese coalition. Many of the people fought back against the invaders and were easily killed. Their bodies are now left in the streets to rot beneath the hot sun to serve as an example not to fight back. With the borders secured, no traffic can come or go from the country. This reporter was able to make it out just in time. Sadly, one of my camera men, Bruce Riley was killed in the crossfire.” She pauses as if giving a brief moment of silence while reaching up to quickly swipe tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “It is hard to say what is going to happen here. My sources say that the island of Madagascar is now under occupation and will serve as a base of operations of this new coalition. I will continue to provide coverage as best as I can. This is Barbara Sanders reporting to you live from Gaborone.”

Three trucks, all bearing the logo of Floyd’s Movers, head toward Bliss, Idaho. Traffic is a bit of a hassle—at least for the bigger vehicles. The blockade ahead has a pull off area where National Guardsmen are doing searches.

“I hope this idea works,” Jimmy Chan says a little nervously.

“Commander Chi says his American contact guarantees us getting through hassle free,” Adam Chou says. “As far as they know, we’re special ops looking for us.”

Chan grins, letting out a little chuckle. “It’s about time we show these Americans something. They think they can police everyone.” He rambles on, not really paying attention to the road or activity on it now.

“The Americans will learn respect,” Chou continues.

“What I don’t like are these creatures we have to work with,” Chan changes the theme of their conversation. “I mean, I will follow General Wei and bring glory to China, but I refuse to go beyond that.”

“General Wei knows what he is doing,” Chou remarks. “He wouldn’t risk so much if he thought otherwise.”

As the truck rolls closer to the blockade, the soldier directing traffic simply waves them on upon seeing the logo. His orders are simple: trucks with Floyd Movers logos pass through with no questions asked. And while the soldier may find it odd, order are not to be questioned, only followed. Both men inside the cab of the truck smile in elation as they pass through into the city beyond.

“We made it through without trouble, Commander,” Chou calls over the radio, a secured line set up by Donald Strandon.

Jiang Chi gives his acknowledgment. He too, with his team, has passed into Billings, Montana.

“This is why we can strike the Americans at will,” Chou mutters. “They have no loyalty to their country.”

Both men laugh.

Julius Claude decides to take the train back to headquarters. The ride gives him time to meet with another member of Black List. While the organization was fractured by the Goji, leading to the development of splinter groups, they never have really disappeared. They filtered into organizations like Interpol, Mossad, the FBI and so forth. The Terrestrial Defense Force was the first step toward becoming a separate entity once more. In the meantime, the objective remains the same. They still track down Goji, still develop weapons and still collect information.

St. Petersburg is the first stop for the train and where he is to meet his contact. Claude heads from the train station one block over to a small street café. His contact is sitting at a table further away from any of the others. He is dressed in plain street clothes, not that the Black List has any standard uniform, and appears to not be carrying any weapons. Looks can be deceiving though, especially for the highly trained.

He recognizes the man easily enough. And after maneuvering through the throng of chairs and tables and people, he joins the man. “Morning, Victor, he says, shaking the man’s hand.

“Julius,” Victor says with a nod. “How was the ride?” the man asks, taking a sip of his coffee. “Care for a drink?”

“It was more comfortable than a plane,” Claude says. Then he shakes his head. “I’m on a caffeine break. Shit’s been giving me insomnia.”

“I’d welcome a little more awake time,” Victor remarks as he looks around for a brief moment. “The Goji seem to be popping out of the woodwork all of a sudden.”

“Speaking of that,” Claude says, leaning forward over the table. “Did you pull the information I requested?”

Victor nods and grins a little. “It appears Major Maykov has turned over to the KGB, just as you suspected.”

“Interpol will be happy to know this,” Claude says. He would like to have something solid in his hand to take back, but they cannot risk it.

“It runs deeper though,” Victor continues, pulling from memory what he dug up. “It appears the prime minister may be pulling the KGB’s strings.”

Claude smiles at this. “So what else is new?”

Victor returns the smiles, sitting back in the chair, fingers fiddling with the cup of coffee. “How about this then,” he says smirking. “The prime minister is working closely with Black Dragon.”

“How close?” the man has Claude’s attention.

Victor produces a set of photographs and slides them across the table. This comes as a shock to Claude since it is policy to not carry or exchange physical evidence in public, especially in countries considered hostile enemy territory. Besides, the Black List has never needed physical proof. Observations by agents and their word has always been enough.

But Claude is too astonished to worry about policy. “These authentic?” he asks, picking them up. The photos show Alexander Chernoff and Sergey Stalokavich meeting at a restaurant owned by the gangster.

Grinning, Victor says, “I took them myself. I don’t know what they spoke about, but they seemed too friendly to be enemies.”

“Any intel from Sarai?” Claude asks, referring to Victor’s partner.

“Last time she reported in was three days ago,” Victor says. “She said her Chinese contact may have been compromised and she was going to make her way to Hong Kong. The extraction team said she never showed.”

“Damn,” Claude says, shaking his head and dropping the photos onto the table. “What does Martin say about it?”

“Right now it’s too hot to send in another team,” Victor answers, though his tone does drop slightly. “She’s either been captured or killed. I volunteered to go alone, but Martin wouldn’t have it.”

“Why not just go against protocol and do it anyway?” Claude asks, looking very serious.

“Too many disappearances already,” the man says. “I mean I could care less about that, this is Sarai we’re talking about. But you know how Martin keeps an eye on everything. He’ll know the minute one of my passports is scanned.”

“And it takes too long to make up a new one,” Claude murmurs. “Fuck, we have been losing too many people lately. She’s one of the best we have too.”

“I’ve been partnered with her for eleven years,” Victor laments. “It’s hard not to say fuck it and go after her. But if I do Martin will have my ass and if shit goes wrong there isn’t a chance in hell he’s sending in a team after me.” He looks away to stare off at nothing in particular.

The train suddenly blows its whistle. Claude looks at his watch to see that it is the warning whistle. He has a few minutes to get back before the train departs. Standing, he places a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Hang in there, Victor,” he says comfortingly. “She’s a fighter. She’ll make it out of there safely.”

The man doesn’t reply except to nod his head. Claude gives the shoulder a squeeze and then leaves for the station.

“Come on, Sam,” Spencer urges, practically dragging his partner toward the elevators. “The bus leaves in three minutes.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she cries, trying to keep her footing.

Spencer catches the door just before it closes. A couple had just gotten off on the floor, leaving the elevator empty. They had spent the morning occupying themselves while they waited for Maykov to call with a bus number and time. It wasn’t until just a few minutes ago that she finally did and it only left them with mere minutes to get to it. Luckily the station is just a couple blocks away. They can make it if they run.