Millenium Strike

By Christopher Cole

According to a national survey by the American Society for Industrial Security (ASIS), US businessmen lose over $300 billion annually in trade secrets and intellectual properties to international espionage operatives. Number one on their list of hardest hit industries is high-tech companies, targeting information such as research and development data, manufacturing and marketing plans and top priority client lists. The FBI recently stated that over 23 countries have been identified, with China ranking first in espionage activities. Although numerous international acts and laws have been enacted, corporate espionage continues to be the single greatest security threat to the development of our nation's innovative ideas and commercial business practices in the 21st century. It time the public woke up to its dangers; it strikes at the very heart of our economy!
In his book, Millenium Strike, Christopher Cole takes readers into the thrilling world of international espionage. He allows them first-hand experience of the personal and corporate ravages created by a unique international company—a ring of assassins whose expertise is to seek and destroy people while preserving their knowledge for the highest international bidder—China! Throughout the pages of Millenium Strike, Cole gets to the core of humanity's greed and frailty, as his story follows the covert trails
Millenium Strike/Cole—Overview 6

of government officials, corporate executives and underworld powers who play on our base weaknesses and fears.
Cole's work will especially appeal to readers who favor adventure, romance and complex subplots that weave themselves through the more universal theme of good vs. evil. Those looking for a new author who can challenge their imagination, cause them to question the workings of their organizations, and analyze even deeper, heartfelt responses within themselves, will find Cole's work intriguing enough to capture their attentions in books that will follow Millenium Strike!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098339838

Book preview

Millenium Strike

Christopher Cole

ISBN (Print Edition): 978-1-09833-982-1

ISBN (eBook Edition): 978-1-09833-983-8

© 2020. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Contents

Preface

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

Epilogue

Preface

Less than two years before 9-11 there was another date which had captivated the world’s attention….. December 31, 1999: The day that the world stood on the precipice and peered into the abyss. As we all waited, not knowing what disaster may befall us, midnight came first on the island of Tonga, then New Zealand, then Australia. Would all communications cease, civil order breakdown, or perhaps something worse, as the time line rushed westward? We all watched as city by city, country by country, the New Year was celebrated. Finally, the time line had lapped the world and still we waited, a little confused. Computers worked. Airplanes didn’t fall out of the sky. Cars started up. Traffic lights worked. Power grids operated without interruption. Wall Street didn’t crash. Terrorists appeared to be on vacation. And nuclear war did not break out.

As the night passed and into the next day, we all wondered. Why? Why didn’t something, anything, happen?

That nothing of major consequence did happen was no accident. Computer experts had been working overtime for years preparing for this date. Power companies and Wall Street ran simulations time and time again, to be certain, absolutely certain. Finally, security forces of the major industrialized nations ran operations around the clock, neutralizing potential threats on a global scale.

With regard to this last point, some details of these operations we may learn over the coming years. Others, the public at large will never hear about. For if we did, if we had really found out just how close we had come, western governments could and probably would be destabilized. The ensuing global chaos would be catastrophic. And that is something those in power would never allow to happen.

CHAPTER

ONE

Atlanta: July 27, 1996

The clock read 3:40 am and Garrett Adams laid still, momentarily bathed in a cold sweat. He couldn’t recall the details of his nightmare, but could still feel the residual panic the dream had evoked. He kicked the bed sheet aside and rose to use the bathroom, stopping on his way back to wash his face off. As he bent over the sink, he looked in the mirror at his reflection, cast by the dim light of the room.

Must have had something to do with last night, he muttered, returning to his bed, and eventually a quiet slumber.

* * *

Atlanta: July 26, 1996- the night before

The sun had set a few hours earlier, signifying the start of another evening of celebration in the Olympic city. The midsummer’s night air held a dampness typical for this time of year, so humid that the streetlights produced hazy reflections in the night sky. Combined with the buzzing sound made by the gathered crowds, the whole scene seemed almost surreal.

A tall lanky man stood on the corner of Peachtree Street and International Boulevard observing the scene on the streets below. Heads bobbed up and down, as the throngs of people made their way along the streets, the effect reminiscent of non-rhythmic ocean waves. Buildings buzzed with new arrivals, and people crowded around vendor’s booths eager to part with their hard-earned cash. Even the street entertainers found appreciation and warm welcomes on the faces of those they came into contact with. The symphony of these different sights and sounds was almost overwhelming and the sense of excitement was palpable. Since this was an experience in these tourists’ lives that may never come again, all were determined to absorb as much of the night’s events as possible. Here they were, people from all over the world, enjoying life to its fullest, quite oblivious to the fact that among them stalked a man who had every intention of disrupting their celebration.

As the crowd made its way down International Boulevard towards Olympic Park, the tall, lanky man moved through the throng with ease. His eyes darted from one side to the other, his casual manner masking an intensity inside. The man had a mission; to create a diversion, something big. He shifted the backpack he was carrying and paused momentarily to study the crowd. His patience was soon rewarded when he spotted what he wanted. A group of young people, many of whom carried backpacks similar his own, was approaching one of the entrances to the park. As they stood waiting, he moved into their circle, appearing to the casual observer to be one of the group. He chatted with two of the young people and smiled as, slowly, they all inched forward, until finally it was their turn to pass through the entrance.

Small beads of sweat formed on the man’s brow as he passed by the more observant eye of the security posted at the gate. No one bothered checking bags tonight, it was an open park. That would soon change. Once safely inside, he broke away from the group of young people and began to make his way towards the place he had previously selected for this assignment. He had been on many missions in he past, but this was the Olympics, where the best security experts in the world convened every four years to prevent precisely what he was here to do. The challenge of being in such close proximity to the best and testing their skills, caused an adrenaline rush, the likes of which he had rarely experienced.

We’ll just see who’s best, he said to himself as he started his own Olympic event, one that no one but he and his employer were aware had been scheduled. He knew full well that what he intended to do would be judged as diabolical, but he had never before let such trivial judgments stop him from doing the job he was hired to do. The man had gone by many names throughout his life, but he never had taken one permanently as his own. Abandoned as an infant, he had grown up on the streets of Amsterdam, always being shuffled from one place to another. Often abused, the young boy lived a life of non-acceptance. In response, he had decided at a tender age that he would take no permanent name, lest it accidentally belong to someone in his natural family. The man’s anger drove him, it always had, and others’ opinions held no meaning. What did he care of this world, anyway? No, the only pleasure he found in life was the anonymous infliction of pain and heartbreak to others. While the rest of the world was reacting in horror to the terror he had wrought, he would be quietly celebrating his success half a world away, coldly awaiting his next assignment.

He had taken a mere handful of steps, when the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Standing fifty feet away was someone who looked familiar. He couldn’t place the name, but he recognized him from somewhere. All he knew was that this was the enemy and he needed to avoid him at any cost. He veered off to the southeast, all of his senses piqued, fitting in with the crowd as they walked towards the performance stage. As he approached the sound and light tower, he recalled his instructions.

Make it look like an amateur, he had been told. We don’t want to attract the wrong kind of attention, just create a diversion.

Make it look like an amateur? he thought. That was easy. He’d even found a patsy. Several recent unsolved bombings had occurred in the region within the past year, all fitting the same ‘M.O.’. All he did was copy it. If they did ever catch the guy, no one would believe he wasn’t the person responsible for planting this bomb, too.

He was mere yards from the tower now. The man with no name casually lowered the backpack from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground. If anyone had been watching him as he walked past that tower, they would have noticed something was different, but it would not have registered. His moves were too smooth, too practiced to attract any attention. Certainly, they wouldn’t have noticed that he was no longer carrying the backpack.

His heart pounding, he melted back into the crowd and headed for the north park exit. Minutes later, when he was two blocks away from the park entrance, he allowed himself the luxury of a backward glance. There were the crowds and the security personnel milling around the park, still oblivious to the package of terror he had just delivered. Then, turning forward again he continued towards his next rendezvous point, content with the knowledge that he had just pitted himself against the best in the world and had come out the victor—a man with no name had just taken the ‘gold’.

* * *

Several blocks away, Lee Chin was signing the dinner check at the Marriott Hotel, one of the nicer properties in town.

That’ll teach me to open my mouth, he said, addressing the man seated across the table from him.

Relax, Lee. It’s on the company, his partner said.

It’s not the money. It’s filling out those damned expense reports that I hate. I finally get to leave China for a vacation back here in the ‘States,’ the Olympics no less, and I end up having to do paperwork.

Better you than me Mr. Big Shot. You shouldn’t have been trying to impress the girls, the man across the table fired back.

Lee gave a sideways glance at his dinner partner. His superior was more of a friend than a company liaison. He had known Jerry Gibson for a number of years, and had enjoyed working corporate security with him. Jerry was approaching his late forties and took pleasure in ribbing the younger man. He sat back in his chair while the last of the glasses were cleared from the table. Once the table had been bussed, his appearance took on a businesslike tone.

So, you think this may be more serious than we thought at first? he asked the younger man.

Considering who may be involved, we should contact Interpol.

Gibson’s brow raised as he considered Chin’s advice. This was the first chance the two had taken to discuss the matter. An executive at their company had arranged escorts for the evening and both men had been shocked by their immediate attraction to the high-class companions who were theirs for the evening. They seemed too sophisticated for working girls. Apparently having the best in the world in town for the Olympics wasn’t just restricted to athletes. At any rate, by the looks of these two, they must have cost a bundle. The girls were using the powder room and the two men were taking advantage of their absence to catch up on some company business.

Where’s the disk? Gibson inquired.

In the room, was the reply.

In the room? Are you crazy? Jerry reacted in a forced whisper.

Settling back in his chair, Lee waved him off. They’ll never find it. I’ve got it hidden real well, and I left some dummies for anyone to find just in case they are smart enough to have me tailed.

Gibson was glaring at the younger man.

You’re over-reacting Jerry; think of how complicated it would be for someone to breech hotel security and break into my room, with all the precautions I’ve taken.

Lee?..

Jerry, he interrupted, even if they found one of the dummies, by the time they break the encryption and find out it’s a fake, the real disk will be back at Headquarters kicking back on a small pillow somewhere in a company vault.

Gibson sat thoughtful for a moment.

Perhaps you’re right. Jerry finally began to relax a bit and allowed his thoughts to turn towards an evening of private entertainment.

Sometimes I hate this business Lee, he continued. One day, I swear I’m going to have a normal life.

Yeah, right, Lee retorted.

Okay. Maybe not! But I am looking forward to a few hours alone with Jillian.

Jillian? I had my eye on her, Lee protested.

Sorry, Lee. I don’t pull rank on you very often, but being able to sure makes my day! Gibson said with a laugh.

Lee’s face turned crimson.

Screw you, Jerry! I work overseas in dangerous enemy territory, risking my life, and this is the thanks I get?

Gibson was laughing uncontrollably, now. He could always get the best of Chin and it just amused the hell out of him.

After a moment, Lee relented. Okay—guess I’ll take Victoria. She’s not exactly a bad second choice, right? God, what a name—Victoria! You’d think she could have picked a working name with a little more creativity.

It was Jerry’s turn for a red face now, red from laughter.

She’s bigger up top anyway, Chin went on, embellishing the story for the benefit of Gibson’s keen sense of humor and joined in with his friend’s amusement.

After a moment Chin became more serious, These girls checked out okay, right?

Of course, our benefactor does work for the company. Now turn on the charm; here they come, he finished, glancing up and scooting his chair back from the table.

As the two men stood, they were joined by their dates. The tallest, Jillian, was dark complected, with richly textured, highlighted red hair. She walked towards Jerry. Evidently the girls, like the men, had picked who would be with whom for the duration of the night. Lee looked at Victoria and her breasts and shot Jerry a glance. Her short blonde hair bounced as she walked, and the two men almost began to laugh again at their private joke.

The four of them left the restaurant and headed towards the elevators. As the doors shut and they started their ascent, glances were exchanged first between the two men and then between the two women. Jerry and Lee’s chosen profession as corporate security officers could be dangerous and all consuming, but it did have its perks from time to time. Tonight, would be one of those times. The elevator came to a stop and Lee and his date were the first to exit. Jerry and Jillian bid the couple good night as the doors closed and they headed up two more floors. The doors opened again, and Jerry discovered a new form of entertainment as he watched Jillian walk off of the elevator in front of him, uncertain of which direction to take.

Just keep walking till I tell you, Jerry said. Just keep walking, he thought to himself as he watched her from behind. He was grateful for his room’s convenient location close to the elevators; his rapid arousal signaling his need of her, and he was thankful, too, that a girl like Jillian had little use for feigned love and devotion.

* * *

There was no long, drawn-out ceremony in their disrobing, as both Jerry and Jillian were more interested in skipping any tender moments and moving on to their own personal agendas. Sensing Jillian was as ready as he, Jerry immediately pushed her back onto the bed, and with her feet just short of touching the floor he ran his hand down her smooth stomach and applied slight pressure to signal his desire for her to further spread her slender legs. Holding no resistance, Jillian did what was expected, and Jerry continued to explore her most vulnerable spots, before reaching down to pull her further upon the bed.

The moans were coming in regular intervals now as their bare flesh glistened in the dim light of the hotel room. Their two bodies were energized by the exchange of power and control, of take and take some more, of wanton emotions and universal expressions of desire and completion. Somewhat surprised at her own reaction to his skilled lovemaking, Jillian was kissing Jerry with the passion of a prowling, seasoned animal, with one thought on its mind—assuaging its need to couple. Jerry was just as surprised at Jillian’s response, when it occurred to him that professional women did not, as a rule, kiss. He wasn’t complaining about being her exception, though. This was no time to question the rules.

Placing herself in the controlling position, Jillian now assumed her dominant right, moaning and tossing her head in ecstasy, coming to climax, repeatedly, one only more intense than the next. Gibson looked up at her half-closed eyes and rounded breasts, as she fell forward causing her long, slick hair to curtain and tickle the perspiring valley between them.

It was more than he could take and the moment caught up with him. As he consummated their coupling, his eyes closed momentarily. Still in the throws of his own ecstasy, he felt something he had never felt before after a heated bout—there was a sharp stinging in his neck. His eyes snapped opened in surprise. Looking up, he saw Jillian staring down at him. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the syringe in her hand. He looked into her eyes and the empty smirk curling on her lips. At that instant, the reality of the moment hit him, and he knew. In the last fading seconds of his life, Jerry Gibson stared back into the cold eyes of his assassin.

* * *

Two floors down Victoria was getting dressed. Chin’s lifeless body lay on the bed, the vestiges of a smile frozen on his face. She stood in the mirror and adjusted her wig. They knew they were taking a risk killing two men in the same hotel; two men who had been seen together earlier in the evening. But even if the authorities could make the connection, it wouldn’t matter. Within forty-eight hours, both she and her partner would be well out of U.S. jurisdiction and no one would be able to accurately describe them, much less trace them. Besides, another of their team was preparing a surprise that was sure to keep the authorities much more occupied with other affairs.

When Victoria finished primping, she took a small rag from her purse and proceeded to carefully remove all of the fingerprints she had left around the room, knowing full well that if any were discovered, it could mean her life. The blonde assassin then took out a pair of surgical gloves and carefully started searching the room. Moments later, while looking through Lee’s shaving kit, she found what she was looking for. She took the miniature DVD computer disk, put it into her purse and began removing her gloves. She paused. She couldn’t quite shake a nagging resolve that the find was much too simple for such sensitive information. Her victim had been employed by a government intelligence agency in the past; finding the disk in his shaving kit had been way too obvious, entirely too easy, or is that what he had wanted someone to think?

She began to go through his belongings again. Every stitch of clothing was felt, every corner of his luggage searched, every pair of socks turned inside out. Still, no other disk could be found. She continued to search the room with the skill of a practiced professional—still nothing. Puzzled, she was about to leave when she noticed his spare pair of dress shoes. Victoria had been with enough businessmen to know that they packed light, especially this one judging from at the rest of his wardrobe, so why an extra pair of dress shoes? It wasn’t as if they were so different from those he had worn that evening. In fact, they were almost identical to the ones he had recently kicked off his feet.

Something was out of place. She picked them up each one, pinching and pulling until she noticed that the soles needed replacing but the heels were new. The assassin smiled knowingly as she pried the heel off of the left shoe. A look of satisfaction came over her, as the heel released its hold revealing a secret compartment. Geez, this guy had to be a fan of the oldest spy movies in the world, Victoria thought, hoping this was not another attempt to trick her.

After retrieving the miniature disk, she replaced the heel and dropped the shoes to where she had found them. Walking to the thermostat, the assassin turned the air conditioning as low as it would go to help mask the odors the corpse would be releasing in the coming hours. The killer then removed her gloves, and left the room inconspicuously, hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the outside handle as she closed the door; so ready to put an end to this job and return home. A few moments later, she stepped out of the lobby of the hotel onto the street outside. She had barely taken a few steps when a man on the sidewalk roughly bumped into her and kept walking, not bothering to apologize.

She turned and yelled back at him, Watch where you’re going, jerk!

‘The man with no name’ didn’t even break his pace as he continued down the street, feeling the bulge of her purse clamped under his arm inside his jacket. The team had accomplished their mission and would soon be returning home. He would have the honor of taking the stolen disk back to their boss.

*