Storm Clouds Read online

  Storm Clouds

  Steven Becker

  The White Marlin Press LLC

  Copyright © 2021 by Steven Becker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  1

  Jefferson Building, Library of Congress, Washington, DC

  A guard eyed Mako Storm as he walked through the metal detector, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses up on his nose. Mako dismissed his judgment, though if the man guessed this was only the second library threshold that Mako had ever crossed, he would have been correct. There were a lot of years between grade school and now—thirty, to be exact.

  Technically this was his third library, as Mako had just returned from the Madison Building, where he had been issued an ID allowing him access to the largest library in the world: the Library of Congress. Started with the acquisition of Thomas Jefferson’s personal collection, the library now contained over 170 million items.

  Mako nodded to the guard as the red light on the detector changed to green. The man waved him through, allowing Mako to enter the Jefferson Building’s Italian Renaissance-style gallery. He was caught unaware by the grandeur of the great hall. The flamboyance of the Beaux-Arts architectural style overwhelmed him. Arches rose from paired marble columns supporting layer upon layer of ornamentation. Murals and decorative designs covered the walls and ceiling, the only sign of plaster the decorative bands between them. Statues and displays added to the cluttered look.

  Mako casually walked toward the entrance to the reading room, passing several tour groups along the way. He ignored the guides, but caught the eye of several attractive women. Showing his recently acquired ID to the guard at the door, he caught a glimpse of the iconic room. The guard glanced at the card and studied Mako’s face. Finally he nodded, and Mako entered a smaller, understated version of the gallery.

  He followed a rectangular-patterned path of carpeting that led to an arch-shaped counter from which the desks echoed out in waves. Standing in front of the counter, he waited for the balding man sitting behind it to look up and was finally forced to clear his throat.

  “Yes?” An annoyed look crossed the man’s face as his gaze slowly raised over his reading glasses.

  “I’m looking for an architectural plan?”

  “The Prints and Photographs reading room is located in the Madison Building.”

  Mako looked down, embarrassed.

  “The Library of Congress started in the Capitol Building itself. It is now housed in three buildings here on the Hill. Even at that we’re overcrowded. Thankfully, we’re converting our inventory to digital media.”

  The speech sounded rehearsed. Mako didn’t care for the history lesson, although he caught a change in the man’s tone when he mentioned material going digital. It had taken Mako all of ten minutes to get his library card. He suspected others did it for the tourist value, and the man’s speech and overall tone clearly indicated he thought Mako belonged in that group.

  Mako thanked him and walked away, thinking he looked as out of place as he felt. He glanced around at the dozen or so people scattered throughout the room, sure they were judging him as well. The nonprescription glasses he had chosen as a prop made him feel more like an intellectual, but those kinds of glasses were popular with the hipsters now, so the effect could well have been wasted.

  Mako turned, retracing his steps down the section of carpeting that linked the entry with the desk, and exited the room. Once in the corridor he glanced around and noticed two men who looked as out of place as he did.

  Mako went on alert and quickly tuned his senses into his environment. The low voice of a guide echoed off the marble and granite. He filtered out the babble and could clearly hear as the men pushed through a tour group behind him. His long legs were a benefit, and in a dozen ground-eating strides he reached a stairwell labeled with two placards. Going up led to the street—going down led to a tunnel to the Capitol Visitor Center. He chose the latter, hoping he could lose the men in the crowds there.

  The tunnel was not conducive to evasion. With only a slight curvature over its length, the evenly spaced columns gave the illusion that it ran to infinity. Designed as a toned-down version of the gallery, recessed lighting reflected off the polished granite floors as Mako walked quickly toward the Capitol Visitor Center. Along the way he passed framed vintage posters spaced evenly between stone-veneered columns. Only the occasional fire extinguisher and alarm pull broke the monotony.

  There were no guards or visible surveillance cameras, though Mako knew there had to be some. If he started running, an alert guard might notice. He didn’t want that kind of attention. Instead, he continued at his fast walk. In the gaps between the couples and small groups of people scattered along the length of the corridor, he extended his stride to separate himself from the men behind. A glance over his shoulder told him it was no use. The men had no fear of being seen and were jogging toward him.

  With the gap closing quickly, Mako had to make a decision. As he passed another fire extinguisher, he had an idea. He picked up his pace and grabbed the next canister he saw. Pointing the nozzle backward, he sprayed the floor behind him. The polished floors, already slick from the intermittent rain tracked inside, became slippery as a sheet of ice. Without looking back, Mako broke into a run, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream as he brushed past several groups of tourists heading toward the Jefferson Building.

  He finally reached the end of the corridor and, after risking another glance back, climbed a set of stairs. Mako found himself in the cavernous lobby of the underground visitors’ center. Invisible from above except for the wide stairs and atrium roof set at ground level, the main lobby was easily a football field in length. It took him a few long minutes dodging the red-jacketed guides leading their groups to find the exit. He climbed the stairs two at a time and exited on the south side of the Capitol Building.

  “What are you doing?” Alicia screamed in his ear.

  “Got company. Think I lost them,” he said into his bone mic. “I need to get to the Madison Building.”

  “I need you to move so I can orient your direction. We lost you for a while there,” Alicia said.

  Alicia Phong was the brains of the operation, though Mako wished TJ was guiding him. Alicia was one hell of an analyst, but TJ’s passion for gaming made him much better at evasion tactics. Still, knowing he needed to listen to her, he started walking away from the Capitol. To his right was the Supreme Court and to the left the Jefferson Building, where he’d just been. He had visited the Madison Building earlier, but wasn’t sure which street it was on.

  “Got you. Independence is the direction you’re heading. Find it and make a right.”

  Mako ran down the empty street, realizing when he reached the end that it was barricaded against vehicular traffic. He reached First Street and, following Alicia’s instructions, turned
right. At the end of the block he saw the Madison Building.

  In stark contrast to the ornate Jefferson Building, the Madison was strikingly plain. Constructed in the seventies, it had all the features common to public buildings of that era: low and long with few windows, square corners, and unadorned columns. As far as he was concerned, it was a grim period in American architecture.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he saw no sign of his pursuers, and entered. Mako passed through his third metal detector of the day, thankful that he had no bag to send through the X-ray machine. He didn’t wait for the guard’s okay. As soon as the light on the metal crossbar turned green, he hurried into the building. Again the contrast between the two buildings struck him. The Madison Building reminded him of a grade school compared to the Jefferson, which was more like an Ivy League university. The floors were marble, but the ceilings were low and the walls were stark white, broken by plain doors with square placards.

  Mako found a directory and located the Prints and Photographs room on the third floor. He entered the plain elevator, checking the corridor for any sign of pursuit. The ride was quick. Mako hoped it would add a level of difficulty for the men to locate him. Exiting the car, he strode along the plain corridor, noting the placards on the doors as he walked, until near the end he saw one marked “Prints and Photographs.”

  Entering the room, he felt like he really was back in grade school. A woman who looked strikingly like his second grade teacher was seated at a table blocking access to the materials. She asked for his card, which he presented. Glancing around the room while she compared the picture, taken only an hour ago, to his face, he noted the austere furnishings. Plain laminate tables occupied the center, while metal bookshelves ran around the perimeter. The woman finally handed back the piece of laminated plastic and asked if she could help find anything.

  “I’m looking for blueprints for the Ford Building.”

  “Government buildings are over there.” She pointed to a bulky computer terminal in the corner of the room.

  Mako’s confusion must have been evident.

  “The newer ones are digital, but buildings of the era you are looking for are on microfiche,” she said, then asked if he knew how to use one.

  He shrugged and shook his head.

  “Let’s start with a search for the building.”

  Mako gave her the few details he had. Without knowing the architect or address, the search revealed several pages of “Ford” buildings, but he was able to narrow down the search to the one in DC. Several clicks later, an hourglass icon spun on the screen.

  “That’s it.”

  The woman glanced at the result and went to a metal cabinet. She removed a thin folder and brought it to one of the microfiche machines.

  While Mako waited, he glanced casually around the room. There were only three other occupants besides the librarian, and none seemed the least bit interested in him.

  Once the print was loaded and she showed him how to scroll through the pages, Mako thanked her and took her place at the terminal. With one eye on the display and the other on the door, he released a pent-up breath and shifted his focus to the plans on the screen. One at a time, he started scrolling through the pages. After the cover page and several sheets showing site work, he found the floor plans. The fourth floor was several pages further in.

  Mako had little construction knowledge, but looking at the floor plans he was able to grasp the layout. Doors looked like doors and walls, walls, and that was all he needed to know. Alicia had instructed him to look for an enclosed area with no access. He was surprised when he found several.

  His memory was good, but not photographic. Just as he started to mentally map the areas of interest, the door opened. The first man who’d pursued him walked through and looked around. His eyes met Mako’s, but the ever-vigilant librarian stopped him before he could enter.

  Discretion went out the window when the man pushed past her. Mako saw her reach for the phone, probably to call security, but they would never arrive in time. His initial strategy had been to fly under the radar. Alicia and TJ had cautioned him to follow the rules: no unnecessary conversations or use of his phone.

  Now, he broke both rules.

  “They’re here,” he said, louder than he intended.

  “Did you get what we need?”

  “Almost.” Mako knew that wasn’t good enough. He could find one of the enclosures and maybe a second, but there were several more.

  “Take a picture and get out of there.”

  Mako didn’t have to look up to know that now both men were just across the room. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and took several hurried shots of the screen.

  “Heading out,” he spoke into the mic.

  “Got you now, bro,” TJ said.

  Mako breathed a sigh of relief as he left the chair and headed toward the emergency exit at the back of the room. TJ was back.

  “Right on. Take the exit, there’ll be a flight of stairs.”

  Mako crashed through the door, thankful that it wasn’t alarmed. The stairs were there, but there was also a glass cabinet inset in the wall next to the door. Mako smashed his elbow through the glass, brushed aside the shards, and removed the fire axe. Just as the door began to open, he jammed the handle in the bar, effectively locking the door. As he took off down the stairs, he heard the steel door bang several times.

  He had bought himself at least a few minutes and needed to take advantage of them. Descending the steps three at a time, he reached the main floor. Over his ragged breath, he heard no sound of pursuit. That didn’t put him in the clear. The men could easily be waiting outside.

  With no other option, Mako pushed through the door to the street.

  Only then did he realize the screen upstairs revealed his destination.

  2

  L’Enfant Square, Washington, DC

  Mako’s height was a double-edged sword. While it allowed him to see over a crowd, he also stood out. Stooping slightly to hide his six-and-a-half-foot frame, he ascended the escalator from the Federal Center Metro Station. It wasn't the deepest station in the system, but the ride up seemed interminable.

  After realizing his mistake in leaving the plan open on the microfiche machine, the best he could hope for was the men had missed the train he had caught. He wasn’t worried about them taking an alternate form of transportation. Even with having to change lines, the Metro was still the fastest mode of transportation in the city. The ride from the Capitol South station to L’Enfant Square had been a direct shot.

  With TJ giving directions in his ear, Mako sprinted from the top of the escalator to the Ford Building across the street. Built in 1939, it was the first federal office building, a notable distinction then, but one among thousands now. Mako didn't care about the history. He was more interested in its primary occupant between 1940 and 1974—the FBI. The building had since been rehabilitated and was the home of several committees serving the House of Representatives, the Congressional Budget Office, and the Architect of the Capitol. As he waited in the short security line, he glanced over his shoulder.

  The men were there and gaining. If he could make it through security before they arrived, he had a chance. If not, the operation was over before it began.

  “Gonna need some help. They’re here,” he said to TJ.

  "Working on it. You are standing in the center of bureaucratic hell.”

  “Thanks for the update.” He’d made it to the security checkpoint. Mako placed his phone in a small bowl and stepped through the metal detector. Once through, he grabbed his phone.

  “I’m in.”

  “Get up to the fourth floor. TJ’s working on the screen shots you sent,” Alicia said.

  On the train ride over, Mako had sent TJ the pictures of the building layout, then studied the drawings on his phone. It was impossible to distinguish the functions of the many walled-in areas. Most would be mechanical chases for ductwork and piping. One hadn’t interfered with th
e various remodels and had been left alone. Likely the walls had some kind of structural importance.

  Mako went directly to the elevator, but after waiting an interminable minute he started for the stairs.

  He pushed through the steel door and ran upstairs. “I’m on the floor,” he said into his mic.

  “Dude, my money is on the one in the southwest corner. It would be nice to have the structural and HVAC prints, but . . .”

  “Headed there.” Mako didn’t care about the how or why.

  Ironically, the offices he entered were those of the Architect of the Capitol. He could only hope they were also the old FBI offices that had formerly housed the most sensitive, top-secret files—those that had never been digitized.

  A pert, blond woman sat at a desk reading something on her phone. Mako smiled. This was not a scenario he had trouble with. Manipulating beautiful, bored women was right up his alley. He tuned out TJ and strode to the desk, glancing alternately between the blonde and a mirror mounted to the open-sided partition behind her that showed the entrance he’d just walked through.

  There was no sign of the men, but Mako knew that by being in the building they had to have seen the monitor at the library. If they knew which building he was in, they also knew which floor. He had only seconds.

  Leaving the question of asking for a date on the tip of his tongue, Mako waved at one of the glass-fronted offices behind the woman. “Just visiting a friend. I’m going to surprise him.”

  She gave him a vacant look and dropped her head back to her phone. Mako walked past her in the direction of the office, but before reaching it, stepped into a small alcove housing a large-sheet printer.

  “I'm in. What now?”

  “TJ has the plan up.” Alicia was back.