Page 58 of Centurion

“It makes sense,” Jacob agreed with Jewell.

Archangel sighed. “It does. Let’s keep going.”

As Con started the video again, Gabby’s finger smashed the screen. “Who is that?”

“Where?” Brando asked.

“In the corner.” Con drew a box around the shadowed person and tried to lighten the freeze frame.

“Abrasha,” Jewell and Fury said at the same time. Con wasn’t going to argue that point.

“A lot of threads coming together.” Archangel lifted his phone and did something quickly. “Centurion, expect incoming. Let’s get to the end of this video.”

She nodded and glanced at Con. Her father would be inbound. “Pushing play again.”

They watched as the woman talked to a man he didn’t recognize, but by the accent, he was probably Cuban. Just as the woman turned to walk away, the person who was filming the video was turned violently. The phone was taken out of his pocket, and Abrasha’s face came into full view. There was no doubt it was him. Abrasha swung the camera around to the face of the startled man. A moment later, they witnessed a bullet go through the man’s brain, and the splatter of the gray matter covered the man behind him, who was also shot. The video ended abruptly.

Con didn’t hit stop because there was still time on the video. A modern video started showing what appeared to be a hotel room. A man came from behind the recording device and sat down in a chair facing the camera. “My name is Michael Eisenberger. I’m making this video as an insurance policy. I’m including it here and not in the other drive I’m making to give tomy blackmailer.” He sighed, and Con could see the man’s hands shaking. Finally, he clasped his hands together and lifted his eyes to the camera. “I’m being blackmailed for the video you witnessed before I spliced this recording to it. I don’t know who will find this information, but the clerk at the store told me she partitioned the device to hide it. I watched to make sure she didn’t access or copy the information. To the best of my knowledge, she did not.” The man adjusted his glasses. “For the last four years, I have been working for a Russian citizen, Abrasha Molchalin. In the beginning, the man led me to believe he wanted my help because he truly believed a digital crash was coming. I did research on what actions each of the major governments would take. We were supposed to be building an archive of printed information. And in a sense, we did. The research was to help the governments by showing weaknesses in their responses. Molchalin had money. He said he could make the governments pay attention, but he wanted a repository just in case they refused to listen to reason.” Eisenberger swiped at his thinning gray hair. “I have a house. The address is in the documents I’ve included here. Molchalin sent me a warehouse full of documentation—manuals on how to recreate the analog age. I have gone through all the boxes, page by page, have filed them in the correct fashion, and cross-referenced all the documents for ease of access after the crash we both assumed would occur happened. But there were other things in that old documentation. The video I’ve included was on an old CD-ROM. I have an ancient computer that still works, so I watched it.” The man closed his eyes and sighed. “Then there was microfiche. I spent many long days and nights translating what was on the fiche. After the first twenty pages, I knew I could no longer, in good conscience, continue to work for the man. I hid the microfiche in the heating vent of the document house near my desk. I do not run the heat in that home because of the amountof paper that could catch fire. On the microfiche are transactions in Russian that depict wide-scale graft and fraud, not only in Russia but throughout the world.” The man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Names, dates, actions. I cross-referenced each of the dates with news articles. With the exception of the events that took place in Russia, I could validate the events occurred within a month or two of the date listed on the microfiche. With this information and the video, I decided I had to take action. I made the mistake of contacting the CIA liaison to the American embassy in London.” He shook his head. “That, I believe, sealed my death warrant. I did not give the man the video or tell him where I had placed the material I referenced in our conversation. Perhaps that’s the only reason I’m alive to record this video. I’m currently in Australia, but I’ve been visited by men who threatened to kill me if I did not produce it.” The man smiled a bit. “I know better than that. I told them I would surrender it to the woman in the video. If you haven’t recognized her, her name is Anne Trueman. She is the Undersecretary of State, Security Divison, for the United States.” Eisenberger shook his head. “The other documents attached in this hidden area of the device are addresses for Molchalin’s safe houses. The ones on the unsecured side of this drive are false and put there to confuse Molchalin if he somehow acquires the drive. I will be leaving for France shortly, but only after I post this drive to my cousin in the American embassy in France. She is not complicit in any of these events and has only agreed to help me because she owes me for a favor I gave her many years ago.” Eisenberger leaned forward. “I hope honest people find this information. If not, I fear for the world. Molchalin is building rockets capable of launching into orbit. From my research, it is most certainly a device that can cause an EMP blast capable of destroying all digital capability over the territory over which it explodes. From what I have deduced, his attempt to obtain the nuclear materialis his only hindrance to constructing the missiles. Most of the unaccounted-for material that disappeared after the Iron Curtain dropped has been located and is monitored by numerous agencies. He has a storage facility in Switzerland, several city blocks long under which are his lab and where the missiles that will deploy the nuclear blasts are being built. If he obtains the material needed, there will be no stopping him.” Eisenberger’s hand trembled as it touched his cheek. “Trust no one. The stink of corruption is rife throughout many governments.” The man stood up and walked behind the recording device. The picture went dark.

Con blinked and stared at the screen and sighed. “Holy shitballs.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Fury said. “And that means hell has officially frozen over.”

CHAPTER 23

Gabby waited as Con cleared the conference line. “Dad will be here shortly,” she said when he turned to her. He nodded and walked over, wrapping her in his arms. She let herself relax. “I need this right now.” She sighed and let him take her weight. God, it was wonderful to let someone take care of her.

“Believe it or not, I do, too.” Con chuckled. “Shit is about to get real.”

She nodded. “In our line of work, real is the only venue we operate in.”

He shifted his weight, so they were almost dancing while standing in place. “Vacations are authorized.”

She chuckled. “I could use one. A week or so on the beach, soaking up the rays and just relaxing.”

“That sounds amazing. Let’s do it.”

“What? When?”

“After this crisis is over.” Con pulled away and looked down at her. “My mom has a private island in the Maldives. She’ll let me use it, especially if I tell her I’m taking someone special with me.”

Gabby frowned and asked, “Who are you taking?” She couldn’t keep the smile from her face and Con laughed with her. “If you can get the time off after this, I’m in.” She toed up, and he kissed her. She sunk into the sensation of his arms wrapping her up and his tongue dancing with hers. The sound of the door chimes pulled them apart. “To be continued.” Gabby pulled out of his arms.

“I’ll keep you to that promise,” Con said and sat back down at his station.

She trotted over to the front door, checked the monitor to verify it was her father, and opened the door. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. She looked behind him. “Where’s Mom?”

“I have a better question. Is that a bullet burn?” Gabriel reached up and touched just below the red mark on her cheek.

“Yes, it got rough out there.” She wasn’t going to lie to her father. She’d try to keep the worst away from Con because he didn’t need to worry about anything but his job at the moment.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “But you did your job.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, sir.”

He dropped a kiss on her head. “I love you.”

She looked up at him. “I know, Daddy. I love you, too.” She looked out the door. “And Mom is where?”

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