KNIGHTly News
US President and the Ukrainian File
The culinary delights of certain New York City street vendors was a thing not to be missed. And the two men sat finishing their hot dogs on a park bench across the street. It was a momentary oasis amidst the clash and tangle of sights and sounds all around. The energy of life and movement as a veritable unending stream of people flowed around them like an army of ants heedless of anything outside their immediate tasks.
Hiro studied Knights features as he swallowed the last bite of his meal and washed it down with his coke. A particular knowledge born of knowing the man sparkled in his eyes and he leaned back against the park bench, tossed the remnants of his meal in the trash bin and lit a cigarette.
“So you didn’t come all this way just to hear me speak did ya?”
Hiro waited as Knight finished his last bite and followed suit, throwing away his trash. Knights lips curled with a faint smile Hiro had become all too familiar with the past few months. And he returned the faint smile as he turned his head and exhaled. A swirl of blue smoke disappeared into the New York atmosphere and joined the billion and one other pollutants as Hiro placed the cigarette to his lips again.
Knight exhaled audibly and shook his head in agreement with Hiro’s assessment.
“I woke up this morning to a call from the Manhattan M.E.’s office. Said a girl from the New York Times, some whistle blower on a couple of Deep State scandals, Kelly Oliveras?”
Knight paused to see if the name rang any bells but Hiro just shook his head mildly and smoked again. So Knight continued.
“She took a dive off the 14th floor of her apartment here last night.”
Knight illustrated with his hand making the gesture of a thing falling then impacting.
“Mush goes the weasel, all over somebody’s car. And that’s that.”
Hiro’s body language was at ease, his arms spread across the back of the park bench with one leg crossed over the other whilst Knight sat crouched forward. But Hiro was paying close attention as Knight knew, absorbing every detail as his friend continued.
“Except that wasn’t all it. Cops have her bussed down to the coroner’s. Autopsy reveals some drugs, and alcohol, like she had a few drinks and something to take it all down a notch, take the edge off. But nothing that would indicate the necessarily impaired senses to take a header by herself. But, as the M.E. tells it cops didn’t say anything about anything that would suggest she had any other, assistance in her suicide.”
Hiro finished his cigarette, taking in a last drag before tossing it and nodded with Knight in understanding. Then he crouched forward settling into a position mimicking his friend, elbows resting on his knees and fingers kneaded together. And he awaited the more, he knew was coming.
“Then he finds what he called a piggyback drive, a miniature, miniature flash drive, small enough to swallow, floating around with her salad and the martini’s.”
Knight gestured at Hiro’s stomach and continued.
“I dunno whether he was supposed to hand that shit in, but curiosity obviously got the better of him and he cleaned it up and plugged it in.”
Curiosity was getting the better of Hiro too and he fished through the box in his shirt pocket and pulled out another cigarette and busied himself with lighting it as he listened, anxious to hear more about the piggyback drive. Knight remained unbothered with the smoke and satisfied his friends curiosity as well as he could. And concluded his story.
“Guy finds a file with a list of names, mines on it along with a few other people, I didn’t know any of em, but then he comes to a login screen. Seems our M.E. fellow fancies himself a little bit of a hacker when he’s not rummaging around peoples innards. But apparently my name was on a list of contacts on a tiny drive, in a NY Times reporters stomach and I was the first one that picked up this morning.”
Knight smiled as if pleasantly honored with the surprise.
“After a little chit chat I decided I’d come on up and take a look see. And with the right credentials in the air the M.E. decided that wasn’t a bad idea and he’d let me in for a visit before he reported anything.”
“Except it’s likely something was reported.”
Knight smiled at Hiro’s comment knowing full well where he was headed with it and pleased.
“Even though whatever is on the drive is, on the drive, and not on the internet our fellow probably pulled it to his computer to try and…”
Hiro’s computer knowledge wasn’t as polished as Knight’s and he struggled with the phraseology.
“Crack the safe and see what sort of goodies he could find.”
Knight nodded, satisfied with the summation and let his friend finish.
“So if it just so happened to be anything related to this deep state stuff it probably set off a half a dozen fucking alarm bells all across wherever and whomever our intrepid but tragically deceased reporter got that shit from is probably arriving right about now to wait and play peekaboo with whomever might decide to show up and have chit chats with our M.E.”
Both men were smiling now like the wolves they were and had been, in full understanding of that meant. And Hiro now knew why Knight had looked him up and stopped by for a visit.
“So you’d like me watch your back and offer a little helping hand should it be required.”
Knight nodded astutely.
“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble my new friend.”
He replied curtly in his best English accent.
.
9/21/19 — 19:45 hrs
NYU Langone Medical Center Campus
520 1st Ave, Manhattan
OCME (Office of the Chief Medical Examiner) Family Services Center
Making the best of a bad situation on such short notice they came up with at least a workable solution. They judged it unlikely any bad guys looking for whomever came for the drive would try to harm them outright. If they were them, they’d wanna put eyes on the pick up and try a snatch a grab. Watch the person go in, let em pick make the pick up so they could be reasonably certain the drive was on their person. Then just smooth their ominous black SUV right across the front entrance, jump out, tase em, tag em and bag em and off they go, to interrogation land.
Easy peasy.
So Hiro dropped off Knight down the block and would stay in contact via Terminator a new asset tracking app for unlocked phones, then just take up a holding pattern driving around the block for the few minutes it would take to get in, get the goods and get out again. Any potential trouble makers would have all eyes on Knight, and not on Knight’s evac chopper in the form of Hiro out in traffic ready to render the assistance needed. Knight would be ready for any abduction attempts and expecting it and he’d be equally ready to make just enough of a ruckus to get the hell out of dodge.
And for any particular ruckus’s both Knight and Hiro had guns. Knight was a veteran and government operative. Hiro was an asian man from Japan. And both had Recon Marines type training.
They didn’t take a shit without a weapon handy, anywhere, at any time.
“All’s quiet inside. Stand by to stand by. I’ll keep ya posted.”
Knight whispered into his phone as he held it to his ear and made his way to the M.E.’s office. He kept the phone there and scanned his surroundings as if holding an important call, which he was in a way, and intent on his business. Out in traffic Hiro did the same and began working his way around. All seemed to be going according to plan, with no sign of company.
But both men knew well as warriors, Marines, and street smart fellows that few things ever go to plan. And no plan survives contact with the enemy.
Oddly enough it seemed that remained true from the bad guys perspective as well. And things went to hell for both sides just as quickly as the party started.
Hiro had rounded the corner across the far side of the block and had just come within sight when he saw Knight exiting the building. He sweetly pulled into the lane directly in front of the sliding glass doors and directly behind three black SUV’s who had done the same. But he gave himself just enough space to gun it into traffic and get his passenger, the drive, and himself to safety.
From Knights perspective he spied the black SUV’s in front and as the middle vehicles sliding door flew open spitting out two black clad men in hoods he momentarily wondered if there were some weird throwback, requirement to the 70’s that somebody had forgotten to take off the books that said bad guys had to drive black cars and dress in black with balaclava hoods.
Two guys rushed him, Knight spied the guy to his left bearing the taser, a powerful model, probably jimmied in some way to give a whole lot of extra spice. Guy on the right was just coming at him, arms ready to grapple.
Knight’s body slid easily into motion with them, years of paranoid activity combined with Marine reflexes gave his hands and form the animal grace of muscle memory. And he briefly thought to himself.
Bless the Lord for he teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.
BOOM! CONTACT!
Knight started to dodge right as if engaging that man, then made a feint left and engaged that man instead. He expertly moved his body outside the center sphere and onto the left mans flank, forcing the guy on the right to follow, right into the left guys path.
The strong angry grip of the black islander wrapped and tangled the aim of his attacker and smoothly forced the one fellow to tase the other. The man jerked and flopped spasmodically trying to control himself and failing, and instead flailed to the ground.
Knight’s left arm was inside taser man’s center and with a grunt Knight smashed his elbow into an uppercut, kicked out the man’s foot then turned the elbow smash into a grab and pull.
Taser man dropped like a sack of potatoes backward with a crush that was painful to watch.
And the two initial attackers were out. But then the gloves came off and the proverbial stun, was switched to kill. The passenger side doors of the middle and front SUV opened and two more attackers spilled out. But this time they weren’t raising tasers. They were guns.
Instantly Knight’s right hand fell to his waist and he was already drawing his Beretta even as his attackers opened up. Knight was tracking the man to his left but focused on the quicker attacker to his right who fired, but missed. Knight was firing, crouching and backpedalling to his right and the bullet shattered glass behind him. The roar of the gun battle and shattering glass sent the place erupting in shouts of alarm, cries of fear and scattering people and the world turned to pandemonium.
Knight knew his partner Hiro was in motion but he couldn’t see him with his every focus on what was in front of him and Knight fired twice in quick succession hitting the right guy center mass and sent him stumbling against the door jamb of the SUV and grasping weakly for the seat as he fell. Seconds ticked and Knight pivoted in his crouch aiming for his second attacker even as the man aimed for him in a macabre old west quick draw duel.
Another shot rang out from Knight’s farther left and it seemed Hiro was engaging someone but he couldn’t tell by where or who. Knight’s immediate threat had a shotgun at twelve paces and he cut loose with it.
BOOM! The shot was deafening and rattled off in echo across the streets.
There was nothing Tony Knight could do and the spread took him directly in the chest catapulting him backward like a ragdoll and leaving him like a splayed out corpse on concrete.
Without hesitation the killer racked the slide and jacked another round in and leapt into action against Hiro, who for his part had killed one attacker and disabled another. He was standing in the joint of the drivers side and door when the assassin aggressively turned on him and leapt upon the hood of Hiro’s rental intending to deliver another death blow at point blank through the windshield.
Hirohito Shimazu, youngest decorated member of the Tokushusakusengun would have none of it.
He deftly leapt back into the car, and gunned it in reverse.
The shotgunner flipped back arms wheeling wide and he hit the street like a dropped rock.
Hiro shifted again and leapt out quickly tracking his downed opponent and shot him in the face even as he stepped over the body. The SUV’s were already burning rubber in front of him, their planned snatch and grab in chaos and they erupted into the street to a getaway leaving Hiro with his partner down. The area was now swarming with police officers descending on the scene. People were yelling, screaming and crammed into whatever cover had been available. And to their credit first responders were already spilling out of the Medical center to tend to the scene.
Hiro quickly checked his partner, and briefly flashed a hidden smile as he understood. Tony had been wearing the “Powershell” which had thankfully absorbed the blast. It had been a spread that hit him, not slugs, and that had saved his life.
But the bad guys that had just fled didn’t know that. And even as the first responders were hoisting Tony Knight’s inert form onto a gurney with Hiro’s help a plan was already forming between them. One that presented them with opportunity, but also some perplexing challenge. And Hiro bent forward, speaking into his partner’s ear.
“Good news is bad guys think you’re dead. Bad news is, so does everybody else.”
And they still had to find out what was on that drive, that according to the only news that would be allowed outside that emergency room, had killed the illustrious secret agent, Tony Knight.
Less than an hour later Tony Knight was standing in the doorway of a basement exit with Hiro. Hiro had the foresight to begin damage control and spin immediately after the shoot out. With the pandemonium running rampant, bodies on the ground and evidently a few civilians injured there was chaos enough that Hiro had Tony taken into a separate triage room, doors closed and the truth made evident. He’d been wearing a Powershell, and despite the blood of another more minor, but also more theatrical grazing plenty of spatter and mess was available to sell the story, Tony Knight was on death’s door. His credentials, consciousness, and authority as a government agent bought them a call to an emergency number available to all of JP’s field agents which went straight to her, which she had the director patch in and a cover story arranged in a matter of minutes. Outside of relevant authorities, two nurses and one doctor both immediately bound to non disclosure agreements under threat of heavy and harsh penalties but fairly balanced with the tasty carrot of promotions in their respective fields, no one would be the wiser.
Tony Knight died at the Langone Medical Center in New York City at half past ten. Heroic but ultimately futile efforts had been made to save him, but the injuries sustained in the gun battle had been too much to bear. And the story was sold, to the world.
Certain governmental interventions were made by locals on the ground and the entire incident hit the newswires an hour later as something involving drug deals gone bad, South America Cartel hits and disgruntled mobsters now deceased. No mention of Hiro or Tony went out nor any details implicating them, but word would inevitably reach the most interested ears both in and out of government and or criminal enterprise circles.
That was good.
Because Tony was now dead.
But that was also bad.
Because Tony was now dead.
And dead people can’t use phones, drive smart cars, pick up take out food with credit cards, or have sex with known girlfriends no matter how hot the ass.
Nor can they use passports, peruse the internet under familiar old accounts and check email.
And they definitely can’t use any kind of company resources or participate in any activity that would infer that Tony Knight was now a card carrying member of the dead man walking club.
He was effectively, and at the moment, quite literally out in the cold.
But so was Hiro, and as far as the world was concerned. Hiro Shimazu far from any hubbub and in any event had nothing to do with it. And so Tony Knight, dead man walking, wouldn’t remain out in the cold for long.
And it was agreed between them that a shot of Armadale Vodka or three was of the highest order, along with a more detailed investigation of the contents of the mysterious mini drive that had already caused much mayhem.
A little while later, safely ensconced in Hiro’s room, with drink and food a plenty and hot showers to go both fellows were turning their attention to the matter at hand. The drive.
Hiro had the drive inserted into a spare laptop he’d kept for note taking and authorship aside from his usual rig and was completely unconnected to the internet. Tony was pacing the room and both were drinking a shot of Armadale.
Hiro read off a spate of names listed in the open file and both agreed they sounded European, Eastern, possibly Russian, one was named Svyatoslav. A quick and separate internet check on the other laptop revealed the names were likely Ukrainian.
“So we’ve got whistleblowers, Ukrainian government officials, possibly dead foreign nationals cleaned up off of 1st Ave. And some, at the moment hazy connection with higher levels of our own government on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Now whether that has anything to do with any currently sitting president’s we don’t know for sure without more concrete evidence.”
Tony mulled over his vodka. Hiro nodded in agreement still scanning the screen. And added.
“And we both know what jumping to conclusions gets us in your line of work.”
“Agreed. A lot of dead people who probably shouldn’t be dead because we fucked up.”
Created and Produced by Anthony “The Creative Gangsta” Phills
Sound Design by Navid Lancaster
