Chapter II
It hadn't been a good morning for Jeff Mykael.
Almost being killed by two knife-wielding Vietnamese thugs and having to be rescued by a middle-aged college professor was a bad enough start, but since then things had gotten even worse. At the base, the man he had apprehended, Ken Bushido, confessed that the man who had sent him was none other than the same professor who had just incapacitated him, Tom Bishop.
It did seem a little bit strange to Mykael that Bishop had saved his life from thugs he had himself employed, but his counterpart from CID, Andrew Marcus, was convinced it was true. He had demanded to take control of the next mission, where he would arrest Bishop and interrogate him. That left Mykael with the job of transporting Bushido, now in protective custody, to the FBI holding facility in Dallas, Texas.
Mykael was currently riding in the passenger seat of an armored FBI van. Another agent sat next him in the driver's seat. And of course, the mysterious Vietnamese prisoner, Bushido, remained in the back. Coupled with the fact that Bishop was already being interrogated by Marcus, he should have felt safe and secure from any enemy action.
But he didn't. And his fears proved justified after less than an hour of driving.
They were driving on a narrow countryside lane, not having seen another soul for over twenty minutes, when they suddenly came upon a black Mercedes parked directly in front of them, blocking the road. The windows were tinted, but Mykael was certain that the car was occupied, no doubt with people ready to ambush him the moment he approached.
"Wait!" Mykael cautioned, as the other agent made to open his door. "This isn't right. We're being set up here."
"Set up? What are you talking about?"
Mykael gestured to the rear compartment of the van. "They want to kill Bushido so he can't testify against them! When we get out of the van, they'll attack us!"
"You don't know that," objected the driver. "Besides, we need to get that car off the road."
"Well, yeah, but -"
Their arguing was interrupted by the door of the Mercedes swinging open. Both men stiffened, but the only thing that emerged from the car was a man, slowly, as if in surrender. He was tall, burly, and black. In fact, he looked just like -
"Son of a bitch!" hissed Mykael, swinging open his door. "It's Vongeo!"
It was indeed Samuel Vongeo. The lieutenant colonel stood perfectly still, his arms raised. Even as both agents drew their service weapons and aimed them at him, he made no move, except to speak.
"FBI!" Vongeo boomed. "I'm here to turn myself in!"
"Excuse me, sir?" Mykael asked.
"Didn't you hear me, son?" shouted Vongeo. "I'm innocent, and I'm eager to prove it. Just give me that chance!"
Mykael nodded, relieved. Remembering what had happened to him earlier, though, he turned to the other agent.
"You cuff him. I'll cover you."
The other agent slowly walked up to Vongeo, ready to handcuff him. Mykael kept his gun trained on the surrendering Marine officer. With his attention focused on Vongeo, he didn't see the other man until he slammed into him, knocking him over.
Mykael lost the gun in the fall, but quickly sprang to his feet, ready to fight back. His attacker, a tall, thin man, dealt Mykael a sharp blow to the temple. Mykael swayed, but remained standing, and managed to duck the next punch, and then landed one of his own on the side of the man's head. His attacker stumbled to one knee for a second, only to rise again and resume the fight. Blocking Mykael's next swing, he smashed his fist into the FBI agent's ribs, knocking the wind out of him. As Mykael desperately tried to breathe, the man wound up and sent an uppercut into his chin, knocking him off his feet.
The intruder quickly retrieved Mykael's gun and aimed it at him. "Don't move!" he barked, revealing a British accent.
Weakly, Mykael turned his head to see Vongeo removing the weapon from the other agent's unconscious form. Obviously, it hadn't been hard for him to get the better of his partner.
"Thork, are you all right?" the Marine officer asked, turning from the senseless agent.
"I'm fine," Thork replied, keeping the service revolver pointed at Mykael. "You, get up."
Mykael slowly obeyed, keeping his hands in the air.
Vongeo walked to the back of the van, holding the keys he had taken from the driver. After a few attempts with different keys, he finally opened up the rear compartment. Mykael and Thork both watched curiously.
"What the hell?!" snarled Bushido, springing up from the bench he was sitting on; as a cooperating witness, he hadn't been manacled for the ride. Seeing the two intruders, his expression turned to fear. He started to yell - or perhaps scream - something, but Vongeo slammed the armored doors shut, drowning him out.
"You're too late, you know," warned Mykael, as the two men headed for the front of the van. "Bushido already told us what he knows. Killing him won't help you."
Thork climbed into the driver's seat, but Vongeo paused and turned to face Mykael. He finally spoke:
"No, son. He told you what he wanted you to hear. But that doesn't make it true."
"What are you talking about?"
"I meant what I said to you earlier." Vongeo paused. "I am innocent, and so is Tom Bishop. And I'm going to prove it."
"Tom Bishop?" repeated Mykael. "How do you know about him? And how did you know about Bushido? What the hell is going on?"
Vongeo only smiled at him, before climbing into the van next to Thork. The van started up and headed down the road, leaving the two FBI agents behind.
**********
"Gayer works in our legal department," explained Blanko, as he and Wilmore walked down a hallway. "Well, we don't really have a legal department, but she's a paralegal and assistant to our in-house lawyer, Howard P. Crustinator, another Brit like her. Anyway, she goes to law school at night."
"I never would have thought of Gayer as a lawyer," commented Wilmore.
"Yeah, she's full of surprises. Anyway, here we are."
They had arrived at the end of the corridor, where a wooden door stood. There was no plaque or name tag on the door, but that was hardly surprising, seeing how Mugthulhu had only rented the studio. Blanko knocked.
"Come in!" boomed a deep voice.
Blanko swung open the door, and he and Wilmore entered. Behind a desk covered with papers sat a stout old man with white hair and a mustache. He sprang to his feet and extended his hand immediately to his visitors.
"Mr. Blanko, what a delight to see you!" cried the man in a jovial British accent. "Who is your guest?"
"Michael Wilmore, Deputy Director of Space Operations, NASA," offered Wilmore, shaking the outstretched hand. "I take it you are -"
"Howard P. Crustinator, attorney-at-law." The man bowed low. He seemed quite friendly for a busy lawyer being interrupted from work.
"We're here to talk to Gayer, Crusty," said Blanko.
Crustinator's mouth opened in shock. "Gayer? But she isn't here!"
"What do you mean?" Wilmore asked.
"She didn't make the trip here at all! She's still back in Finland! Didn't I tell you?"
Blanko gave a contrived chuckle. "You must not have. Sorry about this, Mr. Wilmore. I suppose you should be in Finland if you want to talk to Gayer, not here."
Wilmore narrowed his eyes. "You must think I'm stupid."
"Excuse me?"
"You really expect me to believe that all this time Gayer was in Finland, and neither you nor King Mugsy knew about it? Give me a break. You're hiding her. Where is she?"
"Dear sir, I can assure you -" Crustinator began.
"Shut up!" snapped Wilmore. He turned back to Blanko. "No more bullshit. Where is she?"
"We have done everything you asked, Wilmore," Blanko calmly replied. "We made a good-faith effort to find Gayer for you. She isn't in the country, and the record confirms that. We also have several witnesses who can verify us going out of our way to cooperate with you, as well the security camera footage."
"The concert -" growled Wilmore.
"Whether or not the concert happens is not at your discretion, so you're just making empty threats now - "bluffing," I believe, is the American expression. If need be, we can request a ruling from a judge on the subject, as well as an injunction against the federal government to stop it from interfering. No tangible evidence suggests that the concert will be a threat to the public. Do you really think that a judge will side with you over us?"
Clenching his fists, Wilmore looked away in anger. This was a setup, he was certain of it. Mugthulhu must have contacted Crustinator while he and Blanko were heading to him, warning him to get Gayer out of the way, as well as participate in the cover-up. And the worst part was that Blanko was right. Nobody could legally be required to talk to government agents. Threatening the concert was a no-go as well.
No doubt this had all been done at Gayer's request. She hadn't left MAGIC while being on the best of terms with the other members, but Wilmore had hoped that she wouldn't carry a grudge and would want to help them with their crisis. Obviously, he had been wrong.
"All right," Wilmore finally said, struggling to contain his anger. "You want to play it this way, fine. But grant me one indulgence - the next time you talk to Gayer, tell her what I said about her being in danger, and ask her to contact me. She knows how to find me."
Wilmore turned on the spot and opened the office door. Two security guards stood behind it.
Blanko smiled. "These men will escort you from the studio, Mr. Wilmore. We don't want you getting lost, do we?"
**********
Tausami and Horatio had reached the legal office before Blanko and Wilmore, their plan being to burst in guns blazing while they were all together, kill them all, and leave the building quickly. But as they walked down the hallway, they were surprised to see the door open, Natasha Gayer step out and walk quickly down the hallway in the opposite direction. Tausami smiled at the attractive brunette as she passed them, but she paid them no heed and continued to hurry on.
"What's going on?" asked Horatio, looking down the hallway after her.
"Something's not right," muttered Tausami. "Quick, in here."
The two men stepped into an abandoned office. Keeping the lights off, they peeked surreptitiously through the window in the door, maintaining a view of the legal office's door.
"I hope we're not discovered here," Horatio said worriedly, wondering how they could possibly explain two men together in a darkened room with nobody else around.
"Be quiet. Look!"
The two guards watched as Blanko and Wilmore walked down the hallway, knocked on the door of Crustinator's office, and entered.
"Gayer must not want to chat," whispered Tausami. "Let's just wait for a while..."
After a few minutes, during which angry voices could be heard, the door to the office was opened again, and Wilmore stepped out, flanked by two other guards. They proceeded down the hallway, past the office, and out of eyeshot. A few moments later, Blanko and Crustinator exited the office and hurried down the same way.
The coast now clear, Tausami opened the door to their hiding spot, and the two men stepped out of the office and began heading back towards Mugthulhu's room.
"So much for the plan," Horatio muttered dejectedly.
"Actually, the plan just got a lot cleaner," answered Tausami, thinking quickly. "We now have the perfect opportunity to approach Wilmore, and we can get the job done in a private spot, instead of the studio with a hundred potential witnesses."
Horatio glanced at Tausami quizzically.
"In fact, I'll do it myself." Tausami looked at his watch. "It's one. As far as anyone knows, I'm on my lunch break. So cover for me on this end."
Horatio nodded, and his partner jogged off towards the exit.