Ghosts: CATU Book 01 Ch. 07

The International Bank of Trade and Commerce

Kloser prides himself in the success of his bank. He owns many all around the world. There is one in every state capital as well as one in the capital of over thirty countries around the world. He opened his first bank in Austria, his home country. It has served as the headquarters ever since.

Building his wealth over the years had been easy. He supported many terrorist groups and there was money to be made there. When he decided to open a bank, it opened a whole new world to him. Not only was his money increased tenfold, but he was able to better support those groups he funded.

He sits back in his chair waiting to see the customers file in. His office is surrounded by glass to provide some privacy but also allow him to view the bank. When he sees Hanson walk into his establishment a scowl forms on his face.

What's this fool doing here?

Hanson is not happy at the moment. He comes stomping into the bank like a man on a mission. That's because he is just that. He reaches the office and without waiting for Kloser he enters and sits down.

"I want answers Kloser. I want them now," he says demanding.

Kloser sits there without a word. What fool would come in here and demand anything from him? The fool of course was sitting across from him.

"And what can I help you with?" he asks.

"Let's start with this sniper."

"What about him? He seems to be a thorn in certain people's sides," Kloser says smiling. The double meaning could not be missed. He rather enjoys rubbing it in Hanson's face.

"How dare you! You somehow make it out alive and then use him against me!"

Hanson's yelling is starting to draw attention. Kloser reaches over and pushes a button. The door closes, sealing the sound in the office.

"Now you were saying," Kloser says still smiling.

"You are making it rather difficult for me to do anything. I have to take credit for this sniper's actions just so I can save some face with my men and the Americans."

"Then I don't see the problem. I have set the sniper on a few tasks and you get the credit. Sounds like a win-win situation to me."

Hanson is so furious he can't think of another word to say to him. Kloser is taking over his group, the group he spent years to create and get to where it is now. He can only see his dreams swirling down the drain. The worst part is he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The man obviously could escape death.

"Ah. You will have to excuse me now Hanson. The authorities are here to speak with me."

Hanson turns to see what Kloser is talking about. The shock hits him like a brick wall. He knew who they were, but thankfully they didn't know his face.

"You invited them here?" he questions with a little fear in his voice.

"No need to worry Hanson, they are not here on your behalf. They like any have invited themselves."

The trio heads toward the office. Kloser pushes the button from earlier and the door swings wide open.

Walking out he says, "Welcome to my bank. How may I be of service to you agents?"

Spencer has a feeling that doesn't set right here. It increases as they approach the two men standing in the office.

How does he know we're agents?

"I'm Special Agent Reeds; this is Special Agent Roberts and Agent Adams."

"Since you're here to see me, you know who I am. This is an associate of mine Hanson Davis; he was just on his way out."

Kloser shakes Hanson's hand, "We'll be in touch."

Hanson makes his way out of the bank, no less angry than when he entered.

Spencer uneasy feeling is crying out loud, yet he cannot pinpoint the reason. That has always been the problem with his feelings and it frustrated him the most.

"We're sorry to inconvenience you Mr. Kloser, but we need to ask you some questions," Sam says when Spencer doesn't.

"Oh, it's no trouble I assure you. Please have a seat." He gestures to the two empty chairs in the office.

"Is there any reason someone may want you dead?" Spencer inquires.

"Of course," Kloser says with a smile, "Look around you. I own this bank and almost a hundred more. Being an international bank, my bank has many assets and influence in the global markets."

"We can see that, but we're looking for something more specific. Have you received any threats or know of any one person or group wanting you taken out of the equation?" Sam asks.

"Are you referring to this terrorist group, what is it called, Ghost?"

"What would make you think we are referring to that?" asks Spencer feeling suspicious.

Could this be the feeling I'm having?

"Surely you can't think I got to where I am by being stupid. It's all over the news; this sniper you are looking for has not just targeted me but one of your prisoners. So you were inquiring specifically about that group."

Spencer had to hand it to Kloser, he was good and he did have a point.

"He wasn't our prisoner, he was an informant," Spencer says.

"I'm sorry, you said informant? I was not aware America treated terrorists as informants. You know Agent Reeds, if you treat them all like so, you'll never succeed in finding them."

"You may be smart at banking but I'd like to see you try our job," Adams pipes in with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"What is that about?" Sam asks.

She gets out of the chair and pushes Adams out of the office.

"You'll have to excuse him, Mr. Kloser. He is new to field work and has to work on his people skills."

"Yes, he does need to learn his place. People in my position require respect." He looks at his watch and breathes out a sigh. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Do you or anyone you know have any ties with Ghost?" he asks.

"You insult me by asking that?" Kloser asks acting insulted.

Spencer's feelings erupt, Kloser is definitely the source and he was angry.

"It's just standard procedure." he responds.

"Well if your standard procedure consists of questions like that," he pauses to look at his watch again, "then I don't have time. If you can't tell I am a busy man. If you'll excuse me, I'm sure you can find your way out."

Spencer pulls out a card and hands it to Kloser. "If you have any further information."

He leaves the office and heads toward the door where Sam and Adams are already waiting.

"That was pretty impressive back there Adams. It got his anger to show and gave us some insight. He definitely has something to hide," says Spencer.

"Thank you, sir."

Spencer holds up his hand. "Let's refrain from the sir stuff."

They all laugh. There was a lot of tension and the laughter helps to get rid of some of it.

"So what do we do next?" Adams asks.

"We start asking around. The local dives always have a contact that will lead us to another contact. Eventually we'll get the information we need."

——

I expected you here five minutes ago," says Stanos.

I don't like your insolent tone human. I decide when it's necessary to make my presence known. What is so important you needed to see me?

"I know the incident at the hospital was your doing. What I do not know is what happened to all those people."

Stanos was staring at the shapeless, black form Delgrious had taken.

Concerned for those people? Can you humans for once not worry about others? This is why you summoned me?

"When it comes to innocent people, yes."

Or concern for a certain individual. Yes Timothy, I can read your emotions. They pour from you like an open wound. Your sister is it?

Stanos' anger threatens to spill over. His sister was special to him and as a big brother it was his duty to look after her.

"Where is she?" he demands.

Careful with that temper Timothy. The truth will hurt more than the not knowing. If I'd known your sister was there, I would have spared her.

"You son of a bitch! What did you do to her?" He tries to contain his temper but only succeeds in giving in to it.

Careful now. If you're too loud someone may hear and start asking unnecessary questions.

"Unnecessary for you?"

Quite opposite. This is a war Timothy; we all lose in some way. You humans for example lose loved ones and friends. Me, I lose soldiers. As long as we come out on top, everything works out. We all have to make sacrifices, don't you agree?

"If there is even a country left when this is over."

There will be, at least for awhile. You humans have a habit of destroying everything. Sometimes it takes you time, but eventually it happens. Destruction, it's a good quality we share. Now if you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to.

And like that Delgrious vanishes. The room is left cold and empty save for Stanos standing there. Regret clings to him; a dead weight he will have to carry for the rest of his life. He never imagined his sister to be a sacrifice to achieve his goals.

A knock at the door startles him.

"Come in," he says.

"Is everything alright in here?" asks Bowling.

"No. As a matter of fact it isn't. Maybe this was a mistake," Stanos responds.

"He was here. I can tell it's like a sense of something not belonging."

"He was, yes. Jenny is dead, John. That bastard is responsible for it."

"I'm sorry," Bowling says with a frown then asks, "Jenny and the entire hospital?"

"Yes, everyone. I heard about it on the news and demanded him here to ask him. He practically rubbed it in my face."

"It's not too late Tim; we can back out of this. McKinsey gave more orders to find the terrorist's inside man. We can easily turn this around for our benefit still."

He holds up his hand to keep Bowling from saying any more. "It's too late for that my friend. We are way too deep and if we don't go through with this, it will be worse than it is now. No, we'll give McKinsey what he needs, a fall guy. In the mean time I need you to supervise the delivery of a shipment for Ghost."

"Time and place?" he asks.

"In the envelope," Stanos says pointing to a small envelope on the desk.

"I'm sorry for your sister. I'll miss her."

He grabs the envelope and leaves the office.

Stanos stands there for a long while, staring into nothing. Images of his sister run through his mind.

——

The trio spends the rest of the day going from one dive to another. Each place they go seems to take them in the opposite direction than they wanted to be. They finally seem to find some luck at the last place.

The Buckaroo Salon.

"What kind of dump is this?" asks Adams.

"The kind that might get us some answers," Spencer says pressing ahead through the door.

"It's a gay bar," Sam says in almost a whisper to Adams.

Adams stops at the thought. He was one for not gay rights. It was just one more check mark on the list of America's demoralization.

"I take it from the look on your face, you don't approve," Sam states more than questioned.

"Let's just say I'd rather keep a look out," he replies.

"That's fine. With the luck we've had it shouldn't take long."

Sam goes on ahead leaving Adams outside. When she makes it through the door it isn't hard to pinpoint Spencer. He has a patron pressed against the wall by his collar.

"Whoa, now mister. I told you I don't know his name," the man shrieks.

Before Spencer can say anything, a man coming from the restroom yells across the bar. "Hey! Just who the fuck do you think you are?"

Sam intercedes by pulling out her badge. "FBI. Just sit down and relax."

"Lady you got the nerve flashing that thing around," the man says.

He stands over six feet tall and weighs over two hundred pounds. The man isn't the type to take orders but instead gives them.

"Nerves have nothing to do with it. Now sit down or I'll help you do it," she says with authority behind her voice.

Without a word he reaches for her. The man never has a chance. The moment he reaches out, Sam is on the move, grabbing his hand and turning it into a wrist lock. This brings him to his knees.

"There. Now that wasn't hard was it?" she asks mocking him.

The bar went silent.

"Now let me ask you once more nicely. Give me a name," Spencer says firmly.

The man pressed against the wall is scared. So scared he pisses his pants causing a puddle to form around Spencer's boots.

"No-Nobody knows his name bro. He goes by the name Crosshairs," the man says shaking.

Spencer drops the man as a pool cue slams into his back. That is when the fight rings out.

After a few minutes and several pieces of furniture broken, the fight dies down. The patrons are either knocked out or slowly picking themselves off the floor.

Adams comes bursting in with his gun drawn. "Reeds, Roberts. Is everything alright?"

"Just a little dispute, nothing we couldn't handle," Spencer says with a grin.

"They just needed a reminder of what law enforcement means," Sam says gesturing for Adams to put his gun away.

"I guess so. This happen much with you guys?" Adams asks.

"Always," Sam says smiling.

"Thanks for the information, next time be a little more corporative," Spencer says.

They leave the bar and get into their car. They finally have a lead; luck was starting to get on their side.

"So what did you find out?" Adams asks.

"Not much but we did get a name. Crosshairs," Spencer says.

"You're right not much. Sound familiar to you?" Adams inquires.

"No, but we'll run it through the computer and hope something checks out," Spencer replies.

"I'll call it ahead, hopefully it'll be back by the time we get there," Sam says picking up the radio.

——

The semi truck pulls up to a discreet building at the old airport field. It is the perfect place to make an exchange, dark, secluded and forgotten. Bowling pulls up in a jeep right behind the truck. As he and the soldiers get out, a lone figure comes walking out of the doorway of the hanger.

"Rudolph! We finally meet in person," Bowling yells to cover the distance between them.

"Yes my friend, it is good to meet you. You were able to secure everything we needed?" Rudolph asks.

"Of course. This is America, you can find anything you want and if not that's what the military is for," Bowling says chuckling.

"Of course."

With a nod Rudolph's men appear from various places around the vehicles and start helping the soldiers move the equipment into the hanger.

"Has the President made any progress with our demands?" asks Rudolph.

"He has no plans to nor does anybody else in the administration. When things go sour he'll be forced to resign."

"Then you'll move in and we have your full support and financial backing," Rudolph states.

"Discreetly of course. We'll call on you at times you are needed to do certain tasks. We need to keep our hands clean in different matters mind you," Bowling says patting Rudolph on the back.

"Of course, my friend."

They head toward the hanger when a shot rings out. The men drop what they are doing. They either fall to the ground or take cover looking for the source. Bowling falls to the ground, his brains splattering all over Rudolph. His body and what is left of his head hit with a thud.

They wait several minutes and when no other shots come their way, Rudolph gives a signal to his men. Raising their guns they kill the soldiers that accompany Bowling. This was not going to end well and there is no since in leaving witnesses that may or may not be trusted after an incident like this.

Rudolph makes a call on his cell phone. "We have a problem."

——

What do we have?" Spencer asks the computer technician running the name through the system.

The technician looked up with a smile. "The name Crosshairs was matched to a Vincent Mathsen. He was special forces, sniper. His fellow soldiers and commanding officers called him Crosshairs because of his raw ability with a sniper rifle. He won several medals and accommodations. After his court martial for events that are classified even to us, he disappeared."

"Must be something highly top secret if even we can't get the information," Sam says.

"Yes ma'am. As a matter of fact it took Director Cornelius several phone calls to get much of this information."

"Any last known address or any family?" Spencer asks.

"His last known address was a P.O. Box, which is no longer used. He has no family and no bank accounts. I ran a check through the other agencies and his name didn't pop up for any financial records after his prison release."

"Who else has this information?" Spencer asks remembering there was a mole somewhere in the department.

"Just you two, me and Director Cornelius," he says.

"Good. Keep it that way. Good job."

"Yes sir and thank you sir."

Sam looks at Spencer. "I'm ready to get a shower, care to give me a ride home stranger?"

"Department still hasn't replaced your car?"

"Well it's only been a couple of days and you know the wheels for these kinds of things turn slow," she says laughing.

"How's your injury doing?" he asks. He is concerned for her, not just as her partner but as, should he say it? He wasn't sure; this was a new experience for him after all.

"It's fine. Doesn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. Nothing a little ointment and rub couldn't cure."

"I think we can work something out," he says, "I'll get the car."