Ingrams & Assoc 6: Downfall Ch. 04

Eventually they turned into a somewhat shabby and run-down office building, and Jon announced, "Here we are! Home sweet home. At least for now."

He turned and spoke to the entire team, who were raising themselves.

"It's got running hot water, showers, power, and space for all of you. I even dropped in some cots and air mattresses. I leased it for a couple of months, so it should be all you need."

"We good?" he said, turning to Chris.

"Always," replied Chris, heartfelt. "You know that."

"Okay, well, get situated."

The team unloaded, walked the office space, murmuring to themselves, and eventually Jon got up to go.

"I'll be back in a day or so. There are six burner phones in the main office for you. Need anything else?"

"Did you get that intel I asked for?" inquired Chris, as he walked Jon to the door.

"In hand, brother. Should have it for you in a few days. Sit tight. Relax a bit. Unwind," and then, glancing at April, he said in a lower voice, "Or, in her case, wind up a bit."

Chris looked at him, somewhat shocked, and then, with a smirk, Jon gave him another hug, and left.

They rested for the next few hours, then started setting up their equipment. Using new credit cards, they set up new Uber accounts, and ventured out to get food, and the usual stuff required to exist in the office space.

And Chris and April started staking out the hotel. Trisha and Turnbull weren't due in for a couple of days, so they didn't need disguises.

They watched how the hotel operated, who did what, when the shift changes happened. There was still no plan specifically as to how to get to them, when they did arrive, but as Chris was never tired of saying, planning and intel was everything.

While they did that, Beatrice and Darrell went and staked out the Storm Clouds facility, in White Plains, upstate. The club was located on the edge of the Silver Lakes preserve, tucked away from view in the middle of a copse of trees.

* * * * *

Within two days, Beatrice reported back that the club was a definite no go. It was equipped with laser fencing, cameras everywhere, patrols. As she put it, in the words of Robert Redford, in the movie Sneakers, "The whole place screams go away."

Chris and April didn't have much better to report, - the Storm Clouds contingent had taken the fifth floor, with a suite at the end of the corridor, and the two rooms next to it. There were guards, - 'guests', on the door of the presidential suite, which they'd taken, and they were there round the clock. When anyone entered or left, they came down the service elevator, and into a waiting GMC SUV in the basement, and then left or returned. Definitely the act of people who didn't want to be seen or interacted with. And it made life considerably difficult for Chris and his group.

After two days of further observation, both at the club facility and the hotel, and after much passionate arguing, the decision was made to make the abduction attempt at the hotel.

"So, what are we going to do with them?" asked April, sitting in the tatty lounger in the rooms in Brooklyn.

"I mean, we know we are after them. But let's say we get them. Then what?"

"Well... we... we interrogate them," answered Beatrice. Chris just leaned back and watched, interested in what everyone else had to say.

"And ask them what? Specifically? What do we need to know? What can we act on?"

"Well, obviously... where their base is. Who runs the place."

"We know who runs the place. They do. As for a base, I don't think they have one? From everything we've gathered, they are distributed, and use that little dongle PC things to run everything."

"Right," Darrel joined in. "We need one of those. Lyndsey can take it apart. We can learn their innermost secrets." He nodded at Lyndsey, who tentatively nodded back.

"And then what? What do you do with those secrets? As I understand it, you guys already tried the publicity route, and that didn't end well for anyone. Do you trust the Police? The FBI? We've got a reasonable suspicion that these guys have friends -and probably members, - in high places. Hell, they got the job at Ingrams sanctioned by the NSA and the CIA, if I understood everything Jessica was hinting at. Who are you going to take this to who can do something about it? That will do something about it?"

There was an awkward silence, and April nodded, understanding that her suspicion that this group hadn't filled the plan out to the end was on target. This group were so close to the action, so close to the pain, they were more lashing out than had a concrete plan. Oh, they had a plan. But once completed, there was no roadmap to whatever came next.

Chris cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well, I did have some ideas in that direction. You are right in that when we tried the publicity route last time, it didn't work out. I think that was because we had one point of failure, - the journalist we tried to rope into the mission. Next time, we need a mass release. Like Wikileaks. Disseminate the information via every method we can think of. Flood the internet with it. If we can get a confession on camera, so much the better. Just dump it out there. Let the news groups pick it up. I mean, someone will. They can't silence everyone.

"And we do it internationally too. I mean, it's not like it's just US government members that are involved in this. They have tentacles everywhere. The UK, France, Germany, Japan, Russia, you name it, they've got a base there somewhere.

"What we need to do is package up the information, - naming names, places, times, dates, all stuff that can be verified. Ideally, we get an on-camera confession from one of the two of them, then we drug them, and dump them somewhere public, post our information dump release. By that time, hopefully there will be enough public interest that they will be taken into custody to be questioned."

Everyone started nodding. It was a plan.

"And you just intend to drop your wife off with them? No heart to heart chat first?"

Chris smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes.

"Much as I would love to reminisce, April, the only thing I really want to know is why. Once I know that, she can go to hell," he said, slowly and coldly. No one present could doubt his intention.

"Sure, you must..." April persisted, before Chris cut her off.

"I'm done with her," he said, curtly. "Now, any other questions?"

He signaled that conversation was over, and April was smart enough to let it go. It was a conversation for a more private venue anyway. And it's not like some of her motivation wasn't suspect, either, she mused internally.

There was silence for a moment, everyone staring at him.

"Okay then. Time to get moving. Let's get this done, once and for all."

* * * * *

The next few days were busy. Jon Bones came by and handed Chris a packet of documents.

"There you go, cleaning rota for the hotel. Lists of uniforms, who cleans them, workers names, shift times, everything you need. Also, current guest list. You were right, those two suites next to the presidential suite are definitely occupied by their minions. They are booked in till the end of next week, at least. But my contact there tells me they often extend, that they tend to do this week to week. They've been here at least three times before, so they are a known quantity for the hotel. Apparently, they claim to be a 'bankers retreat' executive group, hence the need for secrecy and being out of the limelight, bankers not being particularly popular right now."

"Well, that's great, Jon. Thank you! This is going to be really helpful. I'm hoping their mania for being behind the curtain all the time will help us, when we try and get them out of their and into our lair."

"Don't thank me," replied Jon, smiling. "Meredith did most of the work, flirting with one of the concierges there. She's damn willful when she gets her dander up, that one."

"Well, thank her for me. But don't put yourself in any more potential harm's way, right? Particularly not Meredith. She's suffered enough at the hands of these evil bastards."

"Yeah, well that's why she is keen to help. She has her own score to settle here."

Chris and Jon looked at each other with sympathy, before Jon suddenly dragged a surprised Chris into a massive man hug, whispering in his ear, "Be careful dude."

* * * * *

Given this information, Chris and his crew sourced several janitorial uniforms from the cleaning company who did the cleaning for the hotel, as well as the rest of the crew watching people come and go from the hotel, trying to work out a schedule of sorts for the people from Storm Clouds, as well as trying to ascertain if Chris' ex-wife, and her superior / boss / partner / master, - they still weren't sure of the relationship there, - were actually in residence.

It was the fourth day when Chris got an excited call from Beatrice, late in the evening.

"They are here, boss. They are across the bar from us now. Darrell and I are sitting here having a cocktail, and they are across the bar, toasting something with a bottle of Dom Pérignon. They don't skimp on the good stuff, that's for sure."

Chris sat back. The info from Desirea was good. It was a relief. They'd double checked on their end, but you never knew. The end was in sight. He had no doubt they would accomplish their mission, not with April by his side, and his crew to work with. April was nothing but a godsend, for all sorts of reasons, not least of which was his own ego.

They were going to do it! They were. Those evil bastards were going down, and it couldn't happen too soon.

Idly, he started to wonder what he'd do when this was all over. What came next? Marry April, kids and the white picket fence? He had trouble imagining that she'd be okay with that. Even if he would be... Would she marry him? Given her past life? Now that was an interesting question, definitely one worthy of more thought.

* * * * *

Finally, they were ready. Plans were in place. People were in their right locations. Vans had been procured, and crew were staked out where they needed to be.

"Ready for this?" enquired Chris, to an apprehensive April, sitting next to him in the car. He'd decided on taking April with him rather than Darrell or even Beatrice. It just seemed... right. Beatrice had raised holy hell about it, until he'd made April and Beatrice engage in a shooting contest, with tasers. April was so obviously more accurate than Beatrice that there was no real contest, at which point Beatrice was forced to back down, even if she did do it with bad graces. Beatrice clearly had the edge with real weapons, but for the closeup stuff, April was superior.

"If you get caught, don't come crying to me," she snarled, as she stomped off to her room.

They knew that their quarry was exactly where they needed them, - Beatrice was in the parking garage and had watched them exit their limousine, and enter the private elevator. They were up there, in the presidential suite, ready to be taken.

"I'm ready," replied April, smiling calmly at him, or as calmly as she could right then. The end game was in sight, everyone could feel it, and she just wanted to get it done. Get it over. Get on with the rest of their lives. And, she noted, she did just use the word "their", as in "the two of them." There was a lot to unpack in her complicated sets of feelings for Chris Morgan, but now was not the time. Plenty of time for that when this was done.

"Right, we are going in," spoke Chris, into the phone he was holding, with Beatrice and Lyndsey on the other end. "Be ready for us, when we come down."

"Gotcha boss. We'll be there."

He ended the call, nodded at April, and ran his tongue over his teeth. "Time to go."

They both got out of the car, patting themselves down and making sure their hotel uniforms were correct and straight. They had a bag with them, filled with items they would need, and they walked into the staff entrance of the hotel and into the busy back rooms, where the kitchens and storage areas where. They'd studied the plans extensively, and could walk authoritatively to where the props they would need were located, - as Chris has put it to April, more than once, "Look as though you were meant to be there, and have a little conversation going about menial stuff, and no one will bother you."

They went to get a delivery cart, and loaded everything they would need under plate covers and on the shelf under the top of the cart, while talking about the episode of "The Good Fight" that had aired the night before, halfheartedly arguing about Christine Baranski's performance. No one gave them a second glance as they walked to the service elevator, and took it to the fifty first floor, where the presidential suite was located, at the end of a corridor of suites.

They knew from Jon's information, and had verified through Lyndsey hacking into the hotels reservation system, that the Storm Clouds group had both the Presidential suite, as well as the two suites either side, at the end of the corridor. They had to take precautions, and so under the food warming plates were several gas cannisters, procured from Wendy's group for an enormous fee, - she might give them a deal on transportation, but her largess only went so far. She was more than prepared to make a large profit selling them munitions. They'd tested one, to ensure that they did go pop, and got a whiff of the gas inside, which was more than enough. The gas was guaranteed to knock out anyone who inhaled it, and leave them unconscious for at least an hour, with a massive headache on returning to the land of the living.

They exited the elevator, and checking the corridor to ensure there were no spurious people in it, they nodded at each other, all talk now forgotten. They had a job to do, they knew exactly what they had to do, and they just needed to do it.

They walked down to the end of the corridor, and stopped. Each produced a skeleton key card from their pockets, - more gifts from Jon and his wife, - and then each picked up a gas grenade from under the warmer plates on the carriage. They each stood in front of one of the two doors for the suites either side of the presidential suite door, and nodding at each other for timing, pulled the pin on the gas grenades they held, and then popped the lock using the skeleton key, opened the door wide and then threw the grenades, already starting to smoke, directly into the center of the room.

One grenade arced into the center of each room, bouncing on the floor, and pausing only to be sure that the grenade hard started to pour out the gas, they firmly shut the door. Whoever may have been in those rooms was about to have a very bad, - if not short, - day.

Quickly, they reached under the trolley and pulled out a small metal contraption that fitted over the door handle of each room, that also went and covered the door frame. This would stop anyone from getting out of the room, if they managed to get through the gas. Anyone inside was inside for the duration.

One door did hammer as someone obviously tried to open it, and then they heard a distinct thump.

Chris nodded at April, who flashed her eyes at him. Phase one completed.

They both then reached under the trolley for another item, this time a gas mask. Chris pulled out another couple of gas grenades, and they both faced the presidential suite door. April brandished her card, since she was on the side where the door lock was, and also held up the taser she held in the other hand. She had two down the back of her belt on her uniform, just in case. Nodding, and holding up the grenades, Chris made her aware he was ready.

She swiped the lock, opened the door, looking inside, as Chris threw one gas grenade in, having extracted the pin. Instead of closing the door though, they ran through the door, and Chris immediately went to the closed door where the master bedroom was, and, popping the pin, threw the second grenade in that room, closing the door behind him.

They both then ran to the door, and closed it from the outside. As they returned to the safety of the corridor, they checked out the main room glancing as they ran, through the plumes of white gassy smoke spewing from the gas cannister. There were two men in the room, already choking and clutching their necks.

April's heart was hammering hard; they were in harm's way now, and had started a ball rolling. She looked at Chris, seeing his eyes through his mask. He looked calm and unfazed, and April took a deep breath, to try and calm her own anxious nerves.

They waited two minutes, then cracked the door open, peering inside. The gas cannisters had emptied themselves, and the white clouds were starting to clear. Knock out gas tends to be heavier than air, and gas grenades have a compressed air tank in them to push the gas out into the air, otherwise it would all just pool on the ground. After a couple of minutes, after the cannisters are emptied, it would start to do that anyway, but neither Chris nor April were going to risk taking their masks off, regardless.

Tentatively, they entered the presidential suite. It was a wide-open suite, with lots of light from the floor to ceiling windows. In the corner was a grand piano. Lots of wooden floors, and there was a real fireplace in one wall. They could see the Chrysler building and the Empire State building from the view from the glass walls. There was even a small terrace with a door outside.

Looking around, there were two men lying on the floor, both in dark suits, that screamed 'security'. Chris headed over to them to check them out, and held up the large Eagle Talon hand guns he found in shoulder holsters on both. He stared at April; their preparations had turned out to be totally appropriate.

April looked back at him, eyes wide and ashen face, even if he couldn't see it. She looked back down at the two men's bodies, and then turned, to check out the main bedroom, looking for their intended targets.

Opening the second room, she scanned it. No one was there.

She looked back at Chris, puzzled. Where were they? They knew they were up here somewhere. Chris waved at her, and pointed at the bathroom door. Perhaps they were in there?

Holding the taser out, April entered the bathroom. It was empty too, as was the toilet.

She lowered the taser and came back out, shrugging at an equally puzzle Chris. They had executed perfectly on their plan, only... no targets.

They just stared at each other for a second, till Chris angrily pulled his mask off his mouth, just enough to be able to speak.

"They must be in one of the other two rooms. We know they are up here somewhere, Beatrice saw them."

April shrugged again, and nodded, and then turned towards the suite door. They walked over, opened it, and April's eyes bugged out. The corridor was FULL of men in dark suits, all moving towards their room, intent on who knows what, but wasn't good.

They weren't coming from the elevator either, they were coming from the other rooms. Far from having three suites on this floor, the Storm Clouds Crew had all of them!

April took this in, and then slammed the door.

Chris looked at her, puzzled, and she pulled up her mask and said, breathlessly, "It's a set up. They have the other rooms, there are guys pouring out of them."

"Shit," hissed Chris, desperately looking around.

He saw a small wooden sculpture on one side table, and grabbing it, he smashed it into smaller pieces. He quickly grabbed those pieces and then moved to the door, trying to slam as many pieces under the door as he could, to jam it into place. Stepping back, the door suddenly heaved as those behind it attempted to open it.

The door opened a tiny bit, then jammed on the small wooden pieces, acting as a door jam.

"That'll only hold them a second," he said, before pushing the mask down again.