NIGHT DROP( A Eric the Red thriller: Book 1)

Chapter 9: A Good spy goes in and fights

Holiday's Pov:

Lovenskiold Shooting range Oslo, Wahginton, DC

Holiday accessed the CIA mainframe system before he'd typed in ThunderStorm on the screen. Within seconds, a warning flashed: Access denied You are not This was strange, he thought to himself. What the hell was going on—that his access to the file was denied, and why wasn't he authorized to see it? He was getting nowhere; he needed some answers to what Thunderstorm was. He'd have to meet with one of his assets in Washington, DC. He immediately logged out of the mainframe system.

He strode over to the weapons vault and entered the passcode as the sensor turned green and door swung open, revealing the kind of weapon there. Strolling in, he grabbed spare ammo off the rack he might need. He'd had no idea if his asset couldn't be trusted or not, and he was going to take a chance. Assets were always a liability in his line of work.

Reaching into his pocket on his pants, he pulled out his iPhone and typed in a message on the LCD screen. We need to meet. Then he clicked the send button on his phone. A few seconds later a reply appeared on the screen that read It's been a long time and where? 

He immediately typed in Dupont Circle. Make sure that you're not being tailed. Placing it back in his pocket, he grabbed his duffle bag and walked out as he placed the bag on the ground. He closed the vault door behind, grabbing his duffle bag, tossing the spare ammo in, stalked out of the gun shop, heading over to his 2014 Mazda CX-5 GT.

Grabbing the back door, he tossed the duffle bag in the back, closing the door behind him and strolled over to the driver-side. He grabbed the door as he slid in and closed the door behind him. He pulled out his phone to see a new message. Don't worry, I'll make sure I'm not followed. What is this about? He typed in I'll tell you when we meet and hit the send button again. He backed up and drove to the Airport where he flew to Washington, DC.

He'd rented a vehicle, nothing suspicious or oblivious. He needed to blend in here. A few minutes later he arrived at Dupont Circle, parked along the sidewalk. Noticing that there were several vehicles parked and some people sauntering along, enjoying themselves. He stepped out, grabbed the door and closed behind. He surveyed the area from what he observed a couple was strolling the park; They looked normal enough, but then looks could be deceiving, he knew that for sure. 

Holiday strolled through the park until he found a bench where he would have a view of people coming and going. This way, he left nothing to chance in case Headshot had dispatched one of their assassins to eliminate him.  He had left his duffle bag back in the vehicle, knowing that he still had ten rounds in both of his pistols. He had never liked these walk-in-the park meetings; something could go wrong. But he needed this intel to figure out his clearance to view that intel, which was denied.

The last time he had seen Holiday was before he flew to Afghanistan to recruit the navy seal sniper for his off-the-books black program. So the question on his mind was, Why was he back in here? He drove a couple blocks before he parked his matte black 2020 Tesla Model 3 Long Range AWD down the street, climbed out, and closed the door behind him.

Miguel began sauntering over there as he swiftly tucked his hands in his pockets, navigating his way through the crowd. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for who would have spotted a mansitting on the bench with what looked like a shoulder holster. Carefully, he took one last glance around. He decided it was safe enough, so he proceeded over to the bench where Holiday was sitting and sat down beside him.

He bit his lip. "You know that I'm national security for President Roberts, right? If she found out that I told you the information you wanted, I could have trouble, Holiday."

"I need to know why my clearance was denied to view the file on Thunderstorm," Holiday inquired in a serious tone.

Miguel fidgeted as he twisted the wedding ring on his finger and raised his eyebrows. "Did you just say Thunderstorm? Look, you don't want yourself getting into here. My best advice for you is to leave it alone. I don't know anything about your clearance being denied."

"Miguel, what information are you withholding?"

Miguel's eyes immediately locked on the couple, their unhurried walk creating a captivating scene in the park. 

Whether it's discreetly tucked away in their jackets or hidden elsewhere, they might always have a concealed gun on them. He couldn't take any risks with what he knew. Although he was a national security advisor, he'd been privy to too many secrets in the shadowy world of intel. But some secrets could get you killed, and you were better off not knowing.

"Thunderstorm is a CIA black-ops program to create unstoppable, deniable assets—assassins. Also, the successor to Mk Ultra, the first black-ops project, which dates back to the Cold War in your agency and aimed to develop techniques that could be used to control agents' human behavior with drugs and other psychological manipulation," Miguel explained to him. 

Holiday froze, hearing this feeling of a chill run down his back. The question on his mind was how HeadShot got access to this classified CIA black ops program to create unstoppable assassins and what they could gain from it.

He raised his eyebrows as he rose from the bench where he sitting. Pacing and forth. This wasn't good at all, he thought to himself. Yes, he had Miguel and had been friends for a long time, but he didn't know if he could trust him. Every instinct in him told him that Miguel wasn't to be trusted and that this could be set up. If it was, then why tell him this intel?

"Miguel, you must have an idea who could block my clearance," Holiday asked in a harsh tone.

The assassin pulled out the tripod on his TAC-50 Sniper as he settled behind it, and peered through the scope at his target. He fingered the trigger as he held his breath and fired. The rifle recoiled with a scent of gunpowder. The 50-caliber round rushed out of the muzzle and soared Miguel Caspain's body without restriction, dropping him to the ground as red blood oozed out.

Miguel muttered with his breath. "Huntley"

Holiday darted over to Miguel's body. He tried to fight back the tears in his eyes. As a spy, he learned to control his emotions when he was in the field on an op. It was obvious to him that his friend knew who had blocked his clearance but was afraid for his life to tell him. At least now he knew about Thunderstorm and had a name to look into.

He withdrew his Sig from his shoulder holster as he scanned the park to see where the round had been fired from. The sniper had to be  on a rooftop of a hotel or even  an office building. So that meant the shot had been fired from an extreme distance. He knew this his experience as a scout for the sniper when he had been in the Marines

He darted over to his vehicle as another shot rang out, shattered the glass window of the car he'd rented. His finger rested on the trigger of his pistol in his grip. There was no way that Headshot knew he would be meeting with his asset here. So that left only one option: either someone in the White house, or in the CIA, had planted a GPS device in Miguel's vehicle.  

He glanced sideways to see he spot the couple that was strolling through the park. They were longer there? Shit, he thought to himself. Of course, the sniper would have a back-up team in place. Was it the couple that Miguel had spotted before? All of the sudden, the two assaulters  whipped out their Steyr AUG and began firing in his direction at him as they sprinted his way.     

He raised his pistol and fired a shot, taking down the woman. The assailant dropped his weapon, reaching for his Randall Model 1 knife from his sheath. Holiday carefully slid his pistol back into his holster. His eyes narrowed on the man as he says "Tell me who dispatched you to kill my friend and I'll let you live. If you don't, I will put a bullet into your head."     

"You'll never know, ordered me to kill Caspian, I can promise you that Holiday," The assailant snarled in a threatening tone.   

"You're making one big mistake. Never bring a knife to gunfight rule number one," Holiday stated. Without hesitation, he withdrew his Sig again and fired a round into the assailant's head as he dropped to the ground. Placing the pistol back into his holster, he got down on his knees and searched their pockets, finding no Id on them, only a burner. '