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Chapter 10
Friday, June 3
New York City, New York
Morin had suffered through two dull, lengthy meetings before he’d been able to sneak out the back of the UN building and find a suitable location. He contacted his counterpart in Canada for help with fulfilling Fox’s wish list.
The SUV was relatively easy. Morin rented the vehicle over the internet, using secure channels, fake names, and cloned credit cards.
His Canadian operative moved the vehicle from the rental lot to one of the long-term passenger parking garages nearby. He left the keys under the mat and sent a confirming photo.
Two pistols, suppressors, and two boxes of bullets were procured and hidden in the back of the vehicle. Rope, plastic sheets, protective gear, surgical gloves, and so on were also stashed in the SUV.
The last items on Fox’s list would have been easy enough to supply from New York City. Morin guessed they’d be simple to get in Niagara Falls as well if he had a reliable operative on the ground there.
Which he did not. His Canadian counterpart had denied the wherewithal to provide them. Turned Morin down flatly. No wiggle room at all.
Which meant Morin had exhausted his covert connections. Inside every country in the world, fentanyl was simple to find, easy to use, and a perfect legal weapon. Fox wouldn’t like it, but he’d need to acquire the drugs himself.
He sent a confirming text to Fox and returned to the last UN sub-committee meeting of the day. Morin trudged to his seat and plopped down hard.
He swigged bitter, cold coffee because he needed the caffeine. The day’s activities had been exhausting. And they weren’t done yet.
A message pinged his personal cell phone. Morin swiped to open and watch the attached video. It was a quick recap of Deputy Secretary of State Derrick Braxton’s controversial remarks on the island country of Quan a few hours ago.
The speech as well as the commentary that followed was translated and printed on the screen.
Morin shook his head, restarted the video, and watched it again. The recording was no less alarming the second time through.
War was coming to the small country. Bigger, bolder, more ruthless fighters would stop at nothing to wipe Quan off the map.
Brax wasn’t helping to avoid the inevitable.
Indeed, his remarks seemed calculated to encourage the United States Armed Forces to counterattack.
The translator’s droning voice continued to babble the sub-committee’s speeches into Morin’s headphones. He’d stopped listening long before. He cared nothing about water rights in Africa. He had more pressing problems closer to home.
The world was on the brink of yet another forever war, destined to drain American blood and treasure. Brax seemed to be doing everything he could to make that happen.
His speech was designed to make the dictator show his hand in response. Even as the dictator denied his own war mongering and renounced the west for interference, the dictator was preparing to invade Quan.
There was only one way to thwart the little man’s ambitions. For the first step, Brax made sure the world saw the dictator for what he was.
When the dictator was killed before he could invade, no one in the western world would object or care.
The plan was illegal and brilliant and likely to succeed. Which was why Brax was the boss, frankly. Morin wouldn’t have the balls to put cold blooded murder of a world leader in place.
Moments after the video ended, the phone pinged with a text.
He was on the ground in Niagara Falls.
Morin responded with a smile and a thumbs-up emoji. He dropped the phone into his pocket, pretending to listen to the droning testimony before the UN subcommittee for another hour.
Then he left the building and made his way back to the same bar as last night to wait.
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