Black Flagged Apex

Chapter 44





10:15 AM

The Westin Princeton

Princeton, New Jersey



"No way, and that's final," Darryl Jackson said.

He started pacing back and forth in front of the two double beds in his hotel room. There was no way he would drive back down to Fredericksburg and do what Berg had asked. The streets were jammed with cars, all with the same goal in mind—to find bottled water. Traffic along the Beltway alone would add two to three hours to his trip.

"Are you telling me that the CIA doesn't have access to a stockpile of weapons at The Farm? That's a two-hour drive for you."

"Not with this traffic, and I can't raid whatever armory you believe exists over there," Berg said.

"But it's all right for me to drive six hours or more through traffic to grab shit out of the Brown River armory? Not to mention the fact that Cheryl will divorce me if I abandon Liz," Jackson said.

"Liz will be fine. We're starting to think that the Fort Meade attack might have been a complicated ruse," Berg said.

"For what? A bigger attack? It doesn't sound like you know much of anything at this point."

"All I know is that we're sending outside assets up to Pennsylvania, well outside of any legal boundaries. If these suspicions are correct, this team will need specialized weapons and equipment. I'm cutting them forged FBI badges as we speak. Don't worry, if the shit hits the fan, I have your back," Berg said.

"Pennsylvania doesn't have any waiting period for rifle purchases. You can pick up some sweet equipment on the spot."

"Oh. I wasn't aware that you could buy suppressed weapons over the counter in Pennsylvania now, or fourth-generation night-vision rifle scopes. They overlook federal licensing for automatic weapons too?"

"This isn't fair, Karl. I can't leave Liz unattended. Cheryl will never forgive me if something happens," Jackson said.

"Princeton is a safe town. Well insulated. You'll be back in Princeton by tonight," Berg said.

"I'll be lucky to reach Fredericksburg by six this evening, and it will probably take me a few more hours to pull off the gun heist and—"

"Nobody's stealing. You're authorized to draw weapons from that armory," Berg interrupted.

"I'll be sure to tell that to the board of directors, after your people throw them into a river to cover their tracks."

"The team didn't have a choice in Kazakhstan. You know that," Berg said.

"Uh huh. So, I steal roughly thirty thousand dollars' worth of gear and get back in my truck for the seven-hour drive to Scranton. Thirteen hours in a car, transporting stolen assault weapons across at least three state lines. By myself."

"We're sending a jet to meet you in Fredericksburg. It's a company jet," Berg said.

"You can swing a Lear jet at the last second, but a few assault rifles are beyond your reach?" Jackson said.

"We don't keep that kind of firepower stateside. Seriously."

"How the f*ck am I going to check out a dozen weapons?" he snapped, suddenly raising his voice. "I'm still getting bent over my desk for the Kazakhstan mess. You know what? I'm going to change your name on my phone. Every time you call me, the screen will read 'BOHICA.'"

There was silence until Berg spoke. "BOHICA? Enlighten me."

"Bend Over Here It Comes Again," Jackson said.

"Very funny. So you'll do it?"

"Yes. I'll do it. But there better be drink service on that airplane."

"I'll make sure they have something you'll like. And a nice bottle for Cheryl," Berg said.

"Don't even go there. If she finds out about this, we're both screwed."