THE NATIONAL MALL
WASHINGTON, DC
2016
The blue of twilight tinged the air of the National Mall as thousands of people gathered awaiting the biggest fireworks show in the city. Families with kids laid out blankets - college kids brought coolers of beer and Solo cups. Hobos put away their "End is Near" signs and enjoyed the evening of national pride. Uncle Sam hats, red, white and blue shirts and miniature flags bobbed and waved over the sea of people. The festivities were in full swing and anticipation mounted as the horizon began to turn down its lights for the show. An aura of patriotism circulated with the summer breeze overhead as civilians reflected on their freedom and the prices paid for it. Symphonic melodies came from the East end, where an orchestra played an old patriotic melody. The strings, brass and woodwinds fanned out in a semi-circle while the percussion lined the back of the orchestra. The conductor waved his dramatic arms, almost dancing to the crescendoing Pops sounding through the mall. It was all backed by the towering Capitol Building draped in American flags.
Through the scope of her sniper rifle, Ashton roamed the red, white and blue crowds for any sign of suspicious activity. She stood perched at the window atop the Washington Monument, closed for repairs since a minor quake had weakened its foundation. Scanning the crowd and the entrances to the Smithsonian Museums lining the mall, she spoke into a comm mic.
"This is the eye in the sky, all clear here."
Her call rang through Tobias's earpiece who was sitting in the painter's van, parked alongside the wall. They had painted it a navy blue in his garage and changed out the license plates. Sitting in the back, he had schematics, blueprints, notes, diagrams and the stone box itself laid out before him. Tobias wiped the sweat beads from his temples as his brain churned into fifth gear, his fist tightened on the pencil as it drew out the chess pieces in play.
"Mac, if you were to defect from Project Sparta and plan a massive terrorist attack on the United States Capitol and you had it pinned down to one of the museums on the Mall on July 4th... which one would you pick?" A few chuckles sounded throughout the comm line. A break in the chuckles led Tobias's eyes to a line of notes before him.
I've left enough breadcrumbs for you to follow...
The words from Agent Zero's conversation with Xander jumped off his page of notes. A gravity weighed on him, his tone turned grim.
"We are missing something..." Tobias murmured to himself.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Yes, we are..." Mac responded, kneeling over a small duffel bag in the lobby of the Air and Space Museum. Mac consulted his left shoulder to check his cover from the outside public. He pulled out his M16 rifle. Above him model spacecraft hovered overhead, suspended from the rafters of the exhibit hall. A sleek black jet with the NASA logo marking its tail hung at an angle as if it were zooming overhead. He began his sweep of the museum.
"Sweeping..." he spoke into his sleeve.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Good," Xander responded outside, running point amid the masses of people on the lawn. The typical onlooker wouldn't notice his firearms concealed under his denim jacket. He surveyed the faces of the people before him oblivious to their immediate danger. He swept the crowd for any suspicious attendees, combing each person from head to toe for any inkling of a firearm or explosive device. Then Xander saw something.
Sparks flew next to him.
Something had been ignited.
His hand reached for his 9mm.
He began to draw it, but stopped before it came out from under his jacket upon the sound of a giggling cheer. Xander's roving eye located a child holding a lit sparkler. He deposited his pistol back in his holster and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Seamus, are you in position?" he returned to his roll call.
"Yeah, I'm here." Seamus walked through the National Gallery of Art's West Building and emerged into a vast rotunda held up by green marble columns on either side. At the center was a beautiful fountain that projected the trickling of water into the echoes of the chamber. Benches lined the fountain for those tourists who needed to rest from the long trek the museum demanded of them.
"Copy," Jooles responded from the American History Museum. She crept forward ACR in hand, a firearm she always preferred over its brothers and sisters. A noise suppressor was fastened to the rifle's barrel. She looked up at the massive American Flag mural on the high front wall, above the Welcome Desk. It was a rectangular collage of metal panes, coming together to form a reflective American Flag replica, entitled "The Star Spangled Banner".
She scanned the lobby for cover positions, exits and a planned route into the recesses of the museum. The covert checklist was interrupted as she heard commotion down the hall and around the corner of the west wing of the museum.
"We got movement in the AHM," she spoke up her sleeve.
Jooles crept forward toward a sign located at the base of the West stairwell that said, 'Private Event'. She saw a tipsy but otherwise clean cut man and an aggressive woman in a tight black dress rounding the banister. They flirted all over each other as they stumbled down the last couple steps spilling their champagne. They leaned on each other for support as they laughed down the hallway toward a dark corner for privacy. They didn't notice Jooles squatting behind a large planter. She whispered into her mic.
"Xander, there is a formal, private event on the fifth floor of the AHM," she said in hushed tones from her cover.
"What kind of party? There was nothing on the website..."
"I am not sure, I'll investigate," she said as her eyes narrowed in on the couple staggering down the hallway.
"Let me know, when you know something."
Jooles jumped from her cover like a cat and stalked her prey down the long corridor. Since Project Sparta she was known to be an expert in stealth - naturally light on her feet and more in tune with her senses than the average person. She worked her way quickly down the dimly lit hall from support to support. The couple ahead continued to stumble reckless and drunk, making her furtive approach an easier feat. The man has a salt and pepper comb-over while the woman was a blonde trophy with a slit up her dress that would make eyes turn.
They turned the corner and pushed open a door - lips already locked. They burst into a small dark exhibit room that displayed the original Star Spangled Banner. The large flag was tethered but in decent condition for what it had been through. Having finally found their privacy their advances only grew more passionate. They slammed up against the glass that separated the observation deck from the exhibit. Jooles was able to catch the door before it shut; she slipped in unnoticed and cloaked herself in the shadow of the dimly lit observation deck. She shook her head in disbelief. They had cornered themselves.
Easy picking.
The kissing had turned to a sloppy make out and they began groping each other like teenagers in the back of a movie theater. As the couple became more heated, they became less aware of their surroundings, allowing Jooles to creep forward unnoticed. Heavy breaths muted her steps and their closed eyes kept her invisible. When she was three feet away she lunged forward and drove the butt of her ACR into the man's temple. He fell limp immediately, unconscious. The woman opened her mouth to scream but the barrel of the gun rose quickly to silence her.
"You will swallow this bullet if you make a sound!" she growled. It required a moment for the blonde to know what was going on, but as the situation became clear she obeyed knowing it was her only chance of survival.
"You are going to do exactly as I say or I will squeeze this trigger and end that pretty little life you have. Now nod if you understand me!" Jooles growled a threat from behind her clenched jaws. The woman bobbed her head up and down in firm agreement as terrified fear streamed over her cheek bones.
Jooles rummaged through the man's pockets, until her hand found something - an access card attached to a belt clip. The man's picture, name and the words 'State Department' emblazoned the card's face. It then dawned on Jooles, as he turned to the blonde who was trying to salvage her appearance.
"Is that party for the State Department?" Jooles asked. An impotent nod replied. Upon confirmation, she spoke into her sleeve.
"Xander, get over here now. I think I may have something," she directed in her most forthright tone.
"Copy that. En route," the voice in her ear responded.
"I need your dress and while you're at it... why don't you finish the job you started and strip him down too..." Jooles retreated to the corner so the woman couldn't hear as she spoke into her mic.
"I have located a possible target. The American History Museum is having a private party for the State Department. Tobias, run this name: Michael Sanders," she instructed reading the name on the access card.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Tobias swept a blueprint off the desk and positioned the computer connected to an uplink square before him. He typed through the server directories until he located a Michael Sanders. He quickly scanned the contents of his profile.
"Michael Sanders: Director of Eastern Clandestine Services," Tobias spoke through his headset.
"That's vague... It's probably a party for the higher ups in clandestine services, those bureaucrats that kiss each other's ass for a living. The kind of people we don't like. But if it's the intelligence community that's probably why it wasn't officially listed," Mac speculated into his mic.
Tobias, still in the van, computed all of what he heard and shuffled through the blueprints. He found the American History Museum and located on the schematics a large balcony, perfect for a view of the fireworks behind the Washington Monument.
"Why the hell weren't we invited?" Ashton chimed in, but Tobias's brain kept churning.
"W...ww...wait, wait, w...wait..." The nervous pattering of Tobias could be heard. "What d...d...did you j...just say?"
"I said why weren't we invited," Ashton responded.
"No, not you, Mmmmac! Wh...wh... what did you just say!?" Tobias stuttered as his cognition intensified.
"I said the reception seems to be for the higher ups of clandestine service, those bureaucrats that kiss each other's ass for a living..." Mac repeated.
Tobias's eyes stopped and locked in on the stone box underneath the schematic drawings. He stared down at the stone box that was recovered in Afghanistan that held the puzzle pieces to the attack - the one he had tirelessly investigated at the biological and geological level.
He snapped the box open and retrieved the crystal pursuing an unsettling suspicion. He flipped his extendable lamp around and shined it up on the inside wall of the van, placing the diamond in the light rays to project the message.
"July 4tH"
The words took a new shape in his mind.
"Oh my God... the target...," he spoke. Xander heard the sound of revelation through his comm.
"Tobias, what museum is the target? Have you found something?!" Xander hung on the suspense, having a gut feeling something was unfolding on the other end of the comm. Tobias gazed upon the wall - wide-eyed at the words 'July 4tH'. He did not answer Xander, consumed in the pursuit of his suspicion.
Ashton's question echoed from the day before.
Why is the H capitalized?
Tobias raised a hand and covered up the middle of the word to reveal only two remaining capitalized letters.
JH......
"It's not a museum," Tobias adjusted, finally understanding the implication of those two letters. "The two capitalized letters are J and H.... it's not a museum, it's a person.... the target is Jackson Hardy."
Xander considered all that Agent Zero had said and realized the theory fit.
"Agent Zero wants revenge for what happened in Project Sparta."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jackson Hardy inhaled a gust of fresh summer air that hovered over the long, green pasture of the National Mall. As he surveyed the crowd he reflected on the holiday and how much it meant to him. He had made difficult sacrifices and was known for taking the jobs no one had the stomach for - including Project Sparta. Now he was fully immersed in the political world, Scotch in hand. Looking upon the red, white and blue crowd below, Hardy cracked a smile, excited for it all to get started.
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