The Prisoner's Dilemma

Chapter Six

January 2004

Södermalm, Stockholm

Sweden

GK&K Trust Headquarters

Starlight reflected off the sleek glass monstrosity that was the GK&K Trust. Winter afternoons were dark as midnight in Stockholm, though rush hour had yet to begin. Irina adjusted the lapels of her black power suit and then tapped her earbud experimentally. 

"Blackbird, this is Nighthawk. Radio check."

Jack's crisp voice came through the elaborate comm system they had procured. "Nighthawk, this is Blackbird. Read you loud and clear. Ready for phase one."

Irina could almost see Jack sitting in the surveillance van, surrounded by monitors and switchboards, his intense expression lit by the dim electronic lights. It was their compromise, something neither of them entirely approved of, but agreed to accept.

"I'm moving now," Irina said, striding up the sidewalk and shoving the plate glass doors open.

She took a moment to scan the area, noting the video cameras situated at either end of the lobby. To her left, deep seated leather chairs were arranged against a bank of windows. She noted the number of people waiting. Three. Two were reading magazines. The third was on his phone. Good.

Irina hurried toward the front desk, and the bored-looking receptionist behind it.

"I'm late for the Olson meeting!" She snapped.

"Ma'am, we're about to --"

Irina reached into her black leather messenger bag. After a moment of exaggerated searching, she held up a crumpled piece of paper. She made a show of scanning it. "Do you know where Conference Room 1160 is?" With her free hand, Irina surreptitiously placed a small round transmitter–no bigger than a pencil eraser–on the underside of the counter. 

Jack's voice crackled over the connection. "Modem placement is optimal. Inserting network login now," she heard the clicking of a computer keyboard. "Can you stall for thirty seconds?" 

Irina tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and launched into a steady stream of irritated babble. "They really shouldn't plan these things so late. I just flew in from Tokyo. Do you have any idea how jet-lagged I am right now? Who planned this? I haven't even had dinner."

The receptionist frowned. "Ma'am, that's a private meeting."

Irina raised one eyebrow haughtily. "Of course it is. That's why I flew in from Tokyo."

The receptionist glanced over Irina's shoulder, likely catching the eye of the guard Irina could hear slowly approaching from across the lobby. His patent-leather shoes clacked on the gleaming marble floor.

"And I'm sure if you'll check the list of attendees, my name will be on there." Irina handed the receptionist her freshly-minted identification.

The clerk frowned, but obediently called up the roster for that evening's meeting. The guard stopped, a respectful distance behind her, but ready in case he was called. Irina continued. "Are there any good restaurants nearby? I'm staying at the Glashus."

The woman's hands hovered over her keyboard, pausing as she split her attention between the security check and nearby restaurants. Her brows drew together in mild annoyance. "Ma'am, I think-"

At the twenty-six second mark she heard Jack. "Nighthawk, Blackbird. Authentication is complete. I have access to security audio and video, building schematics, and the biometric database. You are clear to proceed. Standing by for phase two, over." 

Irina glared at the desk clerk. "Well? Am I free to go?"

"Uh... yes, Ms. Von Rosen. Room 1160 upstairs." The woman gestured for the guard to approach. "Pär will key you up for the eleventh floor. Once there, take the hallway right. The conference room is at the end of that hallway."

The guard touched the brim of his peaked hat in greeting, and guided her to the bank of elevators. Irina fell into step beside him. The name badge on his grey-and-white uniform read 'Sundstrom.' He keyed the elevator controls, calling the car. As they waited for the elevator, he idly tapped the butt of his holstered sidearm. When the car arrived, he swiped his access card and selected the eleventh floor. With another touch of his hat, the elevator doors closed on the lobby and she felt the cab ascend.

To Irina's satisfaction, the eleventh floor was much quieter, the lights turned low for the close of business. She raised her hand to her earbud. "Blackbird. I'm in. Where am I going now?"

"Proceed to suite 1120, it is currently vacant. I can key you in," Jack said.

Irina headed in the direction he indicated, and paused while Jack hacked into the keypad. This suite consisted of a few empty cubicles and a conference table. Once settled, she opened her messenger bag and removed a set of dark clothing, as well as a ski mask. She found a network junction box and placed a second black dot on a bundle of cables. "Blackbird, backup transmitter should be active."

"Copy that. Stand by," Jack replied in crisp, formal tones. So ... American. "Secondary transmitter confirmed. Ready to program your access card."

Irina took a slim, black chip writer out of the bag. She inserted a blank key card into the device. "Ready for data transfer now." She waited while Jack fed the security codes onto the card, and entered her biometrics into the security database. She now had an access card with the highest clearance Jack could spoof. 

"Transfer complete," Jack said. "Approximately forty-five minutes until building shutdown."

"All right. I'm running silent for a while. Let me know if anything changes." Now there was nothing to do but wait. Irina checked the magazine in her weapon–a tranq gun that Jack had insisted on–and changed into her black outfit. So far, the mission had gone off without a hitch. One of Jack's local contacts had provided them with op tech, including the van he was sitting in outside. The two transmitters she had placed allowed Jack to hack into the building's security feed, and run his own on loop if necessary. 

Irina settled down at the base of the enormous picture window, gazing out at the gleaming city around her. The eighteenth-century facades and gleaming glass skyscrapers oddly coalesced into a beautiful city, backlit by the dark Nordic sky. After a moment, the lights began to blur, as Irina deliberately slowed her breathing and dropped into a light meditation.

Forty-seven minutes later, she heard the crackle of the comm in her ear and opened her eyes.

"Nighthawk. The front doors have been closed," Jack said. "The building is locking down for the night. I am feeding a static video loop into security. There are no guards currently on your level. You are clear to proceed to the secure elevator."

"Understood."

Irina stretched, then slipped the ski mask over her face. She opened the office door and peeked outside before moving toward a nondescript door at the end of the hall. The secure elevator behind it would take her 100 feet below street level, to the decommissioned nuclear bunker that formed the heart of GK&K's vault system. Two points of entry: the secure elevator she was about to access, and another behind a false wall in a parking garage down the hill some distance away. A guard post at the elevator, another at the entrance to the vaults a quarter mile down a corridor blasted into bedrock. She'd get into the vault here, then out through the parking garage where Jack would meet her with the van. Simplicity.  

Reaching the door, she opened a hidden panel and simultaneously inserted the key card into the reader while pressing her thumb to the scanner. There was a soft 'click' and then the door slid aside. "Blackbird, I'm at the elevator now. Where are the guard patrols?"

"Bunker guards are in standard configuration," Jack said. "Two at the elevator airlock. The rest are in the midpoint junction. No patrols between the airlock and the midpoint."

Her access card easily opened the elevator door, and she stepped into a car lined with riveted steel, in contrast to the gleaming glass and mirrored cars in the lobby. She pushed the button for the bunker level and felt the car descend to the long ride below. 

Irina readied a flash-bang for the difficult part: the guards would have their attention fixed on the arriving elevator, and she needed to stun them long enough to disable them.

The elevator reached its destination and the doors slid open. Irina pressed herself into a corner, and flung the flash-bang out the door. The guardpost exploded in a burst of noise, light, and smoke. She rushed into the corridor, tranq gun at the ready. 

But there was no answering gunfire, no shouted commands, no shapes moving in the smoke. 

"Nighthawk. Report when you can," Jack said quietly.

The smoke cleared, and Irina could see the guard post. Two guards lay dead, shot cleanly and efficiently, sprawled on the floor as if caught responding to a threat from the far end of the airlock. 

"Nighthawk, what is your location?" Jack's voice was tense.

"I'm at the airlock." Irina walked around the desk and snagged a guard's key card. "The guards are dead. Someone got here before we did."

"Hold position," Jack said quickly. "Verifying." She heard the catch of his breath over the comm. "The video feed is malfunctioning." The businesslike tenor of his voice softened slightly with exasperation...or confusion. "I can't see you. The guards are dead?"

"Two in the chest and one in the head. I can safely say they're dead. Looks like whoever it was came in through the far entrance," she mused.

He recovered quickly and regained his crisp confidence. "Abort. Switching to alternative exit strategy. You can reverse your steps to exit without confronting the other intruder."

She dropped the tranq gun and pulled a Glock from one of the guard's holsters. It was Pär from the lobby. She quickly noted and then set aside. "Switching to lethal," she told Jack as she stripped the guards of their sidearms and ammunition. 

"Take the elevator up to the sixteenth floor. I've identified an unused utility closet you can use." When she did not reply, he continued, "Nighthawk. The risks have outweighed the potential benefits of this operation. Recommend abort."

"Negative, Blackbird." So close... the vault was so tantalizingly close. Frustration and restlessness surged within her. Damn Jack and his overly-regimented CIA approach. She wasn't going to hide in a closet until Jack could extract her. She would do this the way she always had: with her wits. Alone. 

Irina heard a low thump in the background, and she immediately pictured Jack executing a single, non-CIA-approved pounding of his fist onto the console. He said tensely, "I can refer to building schematics to guide you. I'm patched into security channels, but those may be on a loop as well. Be advised: you are going in blind."

"Copy that. We don't know what their target was. The item may still be on site. I'm continuing."

It was true. There were any number of priceless things stored in these vaults. But she also knew it was the Scatola di Pace the other intruder was after. Her nerves hummed with excitement. 

Jack didn't reply, which Irina chose to take as agreement under protest. Not that he could do anything else. 

The corridor was ten feet wide, the flooring finished concrete, the walls and ceiling bare rock. A single bank of lights on the ceiling lit the way. No cover. Nowhere to run if anything went wrong. No sound except for the faint hum of the lights and her own footfalls as she jogged to the vault. 

The tunnel opened into the midpoint junction, to the second guardpost and the entrance to the vaults below. The guardpost–a circular glass room, overlooked the floor of the vault. She used what meager cover she could manage to look around the corner, and could just make out the slumped forms of two more guards. They were not sleeping on their desks.

She cleared the area and took the glass catwalk to the guard post. Below her stretched the expanse of the GK&K vaults, where they provided the highest security money could buy...unless you wanted to store a Rambaldi artifact. 

"Blackbird." She probably should let Jack know she was still alive. "I'm at the midpoint junction. These guards were neutralized as well. No sign of the other intruder. I'm going down to the vault now."

"Acknowledged," Jack said. "No unusual activity in the office building or external communications. I patched into the parking garage feed, but that may be on a loop as well. Police bands are clear. Keep me advised of your status."

Irina took the glass elevator down. She could see the guard station above her, with its grisly streaks of blood on the walls and floor. The hallway she'd just exited had been left unfinished. The gray stone contrasted with the sleek, modern vault. Irina turned toward the safety deposit boxes. 

There were rows upon rows of them, ranging from small drawers for jewelry or documents, to walk-in vaults and everything in between. There were even rows of vehicles stored under layered covers. She could make out the shapes of sports cars, antiques, and possibly a train engine at the far end of the vault. "A-13...A-13," she murmured. After a few twists and turns, she found her box.

The door lay flat on the floor, and the vault gaped open. Empty. It looked as if someone had taken a welding torch to the lock and hinges. They were still warm. Her heart sank and she swore softly. "Blackbird, it's gone. They can't be far. We can still win. Beginning pursuit." Irina turned and wove her way through the maze of vaults.

Movement in the guardpost above caught her eye. A man, dark-haired, lean, and clad in black watched her with interest.

Irina immediately emptied her magazine into the guard post. The shots echoed deafeningly against the rock and metal of the enclosed vault, but barely made a dent in the ballistic glass. As Irina reloaded, the man dumped one of the bodies onto the floor to work the security console. 

Sirens screeched and strobe lights flashed. The PA system blared, "Nedstängning! Inkräktare!"

The man gave Irina a jaunty wave and dashed through the guardpost, down the catwalk, and out of sight. 

"Pizdec!" Irina swore harshly. The bolts of the vault doors slammed into place, trapping her inside. "Blackbird, I need an exit! Now!"

"Night... what... status?" The comm crackled with interference as Jack spoke at the same time. Recognizing the problem, Jack said, "Go ahead."

"I'm trapped! Blackbird, I need help. The lower level's been sealed!""

"Double back... checking... what..."  Jack's voice broke off, whether from interference or inattention, she couldn't tell. 

She heard something–movement? She strained to listen. No, not movement. A strange hissing sound, like air being released from a balloon. 

"Blackbird..." The noise continued, and it was soon accompanied by a foul, sickly sweet smell. Irina dropped instantly into a crouch. What was it? Nerve gas? Or something more deadly? There were endless possibilities, none of which she wanted to experience.

"Irina!" Jack said sharply. "Accessing failsafes now... what is your status?"

"I'm-" A round of coughing hit her. Irina gasped and tried to breathe. "Gas. The security system....released a toxin..." Irina blinked, trying to clear her vision. What little she could see seemed oddly distorted.

"Stand by," Jack said tersely.  

Stand by? What the hell kind of response was that? It wasn't as if she had a choice. Irina lay curled up on her side, her back against the cold metal of a safe. Trapped in a cage like some sort of animal. She'd been here once before, only then, her cage had been made of glass.

She could hear Jack's voice in her ear, like the faint buzzing of a bee. He'd been there, too, just outside of the glass cage.

Irina blinked languidly.

She thought she saw his face in the reflection on the glass.

Expressionless.

Dead eyes.

Dead heart.