Milwaukee Deep

Michael sat silent as his world came crashing down around him.

“We’re here to help you, Michael,” Sam said calmly, “There’s still a way we can stop this from happening.”

Michael didn’t respond.

“This facility has all the latest technology, Michael – it’s state of the art and we have it to help you,” Perks added.

Michael looked up and over to Sam.

“How long have you known about this?” he asked

“As soon as I found out, I came here to get you,” Sam replied.

“And you?” Michael turned to Dr Jensen.

“Even though tests indicated that something was wrong, I had no idea – like you, Michael, I’m hearing this for the first time.”

“So you’re telling me that this virus that’s in me will be released soon and everyone on this planet will die, is that what you’re saying?”

“That is what we’re being told,” Sam corrected.

“What about my daughter?”

“Michael, we’re here to help you – we’re here to make sure we stop this from happening.”

Michael shut his eyes as Sam spoke - he took a deep breath.

“Michael, we have to get going – the risk is far too great,” Perks interrupted.

Michael reluctantly stood up.

He turned to Sam.

“Promise me that you’ll tell my daughter what happened to me.”

“You can tell her yourself, Michael – this isn’t over yet.”

Perks walked over to Michael.

“Come on,” he said softly, “we have to go.”

Crane walked into the Situation Room of the White House and took control of the conversation.

“What do you mean you can’t get hold of the weapon?” he demanded as he looked down at the phone that sat in the middle of the boardroom table.

“Sir, he wants more money – he says fifty million is not enough,” came the reply over the speaker.

President Stoker, who had been holding the discussion with the negotiator, turned to Crane.

“Any more than fifty million and it’s difficult to hide.”

“I don’t give a shit, Bill – pay him from my own money, just get it done!”

Crane turned his attention back to the phone.

“David, listen to me and listen good. I don’t care what he wants, just pay him and get possession of that weapon – do you understand me?”

“Is there a limit, Sir?”

“No, just get me that weapon.”

Crane turned to the panel screen that hung on the wall.

“Is that him?” he asked as a photo of a man dressed in a black suit sat on the screen.

“Yes,” replied Stoker, “Ivan Milascavic – he’s the same dealer we used during our operation in the Gaza Strip. He’s the only one with this sort of weapon.”

“Good - is there a risk that the weapon will be traced back to him?”

“No,” replied the President, “We’ll ensure that this attack ties into today’s failed attempt.”

“Then pay him what he wants and make sure we don’t lose him.”

“Certainly.”

“I mean it, Bill, if word gets out about what we’re doing here you know what will happen. Let this idiot think that he has the upper hand for now and once we detonate, kill him.”

“Sir, there’s no sign of anyone here,” said Agent Cooper as he approached Harding who stood in the street, fifty yards back from the FBI safe house.

“Have we performed a complete sweep of the area?” Harding asked as he lit up a cigarette.

“Yes, Sir, no one was found in the house, or surrounding homes. We have increased the sweep to another four miles, but I doubt we’ll find anything – if you ask me that shit sent us on a wild goose chase.”

“Well to be sure increase the sweep to ten miles and let me know what you find – that’s all homes within the search area, Cooper, do you understand me?”

“Affirmative, Sir, ten miles.”

Harding turned and walked away pulling out his cell phone.

Agent Cooper turned and headed back towards the house.

Harding dialled Anthony Perks’ number.

“Hello?”

“Anthony, it’s me, what’s your status?”

“We’re on route to Jersey– shouldn’t be more than another half an hour.”

“Have you spoken to my contact in Jersey yet?”

“About five minutes ago – he’s on board thanks to you.”

“Good. Keep me in the loop as to how things go – I’ve got to stay here to keep up appearances, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, thanks again, Tom.”

Harding turned around to head back towards the FBI safe house when his cell phone rang.

He looked at his phone but didn’t recognise the number.

“Tom Harding,” he said as he flipped it open and placed it to his ear.

“Hello, Agent Harding.”

“Who’s this?”

“You don’t know me, but I know of you. I was told to call you if things went bad.”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“My name is Lieutenant James Tasker. I have been given a message with very clear instructions.”

“And what might that be, Lieutenant?”

“To contact you in the event that I lost contact with General White, the United States Army representative of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.”

Harding stopped walking towards the house.

“Lost contact? What do you mean?” Harding asked.

“Look I know the situation you’re in and I know what’s going on, but trust me it’s much worse than you think. We need to meet, Harding, and we need to meet now. I can’t talk over the phone – it’s not secure.”

Harding didn’t respond - he just stood in the middle of the street, the phone to his ear.

“Can you meet me in one hour?”

“Where?” Harding asked

“Bryant Park, I know who you are so I’ll find you.”

Harding stood silent.

“I’ll take that as a yes – I’ll see you in one hour.”