He had quintupled the guard, but it was more for show than anything else. He expected Viktor would arrive with about a hundred of his top security troops —
Calypso had at least 500 troops somewhere inside or close by outside the building. At least he could beat Viktor in numbers.
He opened his walk-in vault and stepped inside. The shelves were stocked with boxes of diamonds, gold and real silver, but there were only two items that he considered of real value. One was a small black box with a tiny blinking red light on top. Some Air Force guy had sold it to him a few years back right before the war. Calypso had no idea what it was, but he knew it was some kind of top secret thing and that someone would come looking for it someday.
It was his second valuable item — a small gold box — that he retrieved. Inside was a map. A map that the Circle wanted. And Calypso would give it to Viktor, but only when Viktor gave Calypso what he wanted in return.
A short time later, five faint red lights appeared out on the eastern night sky. Gradually the lights got larger and larger and a loud chopping noise could be heard accompanying them.
The lights turned into three Russian-built Hind helicopter gunships and two big Chinook choppers, all five painted entirely black. The aircraft landed on the WTC plaza which was bathed in the light of a dozen high powered searchlamps, giving the whole affair the look of a Hollywood premiere. As soon as their blades stopped rotating the choppers were quickly surrounded by Calypso's troops. The door on the first Chinook slid open and a contingent of black uniformed Circle Special Forces leaped out and elbowed the Calypso soldiers for positions around the other big helicopter. The two groups of soldiers eyed each other nervously, they were jittery allies at best. The Hind gunships didn't stop their engines — all the better to clear a way with their twin cannons and rocket launchers should they have to make a quick exit.
Watching from their hiding places nearby, the Free Canadian commando team saw the door to the other Chinook finally open. A dozen more Circle soldiers — elite storm troopers — jumped out. They formed a human phalanx, surrounding two more individuals who slowly alighted from the chopper. The commandos couldn't see the faces of the people being escorted toward the entrance of Calypso's buildings but they didn't have to-they knew who they were. As the entourage disappeared into one of the building's elevators, the Circle troops snapped into a frozen line of attention and didn't move a muscle. Though not as practiced, the Calypso soldiers did the same thing. Together, they stood on uneasy guard over the plaza and the entrance to building.
The main room of Calypso's suite looked like a who's who of New Order American terrorism. Five Mid-Ak officers, the last of a shrinking corps, were gathered in one corner locked in an animated discussion about how they won, then lost control over the entire eastern seaboard of the continent. A contingent of Family members had arrived — five thugs in three-piece suits, each with a blonde bombshell on his arm, and a stooge carrying a machinegun at his back.
Seven leather-clad air pirates sat on Calypso's favorite couch, sloppily eating appetizers by the handful and drinking liquor straight from the bottle.
A dozen or so partially clad young women and girls circulated about the crowd, serving drinks and cocaine and letting any guest who wanted to fondle their private parts.
Watching it all from a far corner were three plainly worried Soviet Army officers. Their discussion dwelled on the whereabouts of the rest of their group. It had been planned that eight special bodyguards were to have accompanied them to the gathering.
But these men were nowhere to be seen, leaving the Soviet officers virtually defenseless should any trouble break out.
Suddenly the huge glass doors to the suite opened and twelve Circle Storm Troopers walked in. They eyed every guest suspiciously, paying particular attention to the rowdy air pirates. Finally satisfied the room was secure, one of them returned to the suite's elevator and gave a thumbs-up signal. With a rush of excitement, the infamous Viktor strode into the room. The woman on his arm, dressed in a stunning low-cut black evening gown, was Dominique.
Calypso made his entrance almost simultaneously. He was dressed in a flowing white robe, bedecked with jewels and gold medallions. He looked like a huge, post-modern Caesar. In contrast, Viktor was dressed in a tight, black military uniform, apparently of his own design, but looking suspiciously Nazi-like. He was thin, tall, remarkably devilish-looking.
Calypso walked over to the door and greeted the Circle leader, as the rest of the gathering watched in hushed silence. It was like two heads of state meeting.
"Welcome to my city," Calypso bellowed. "We're honored to have someone of your stature here with us."
"Thank you," Viktor said in a vaguely accented voice, adding, "We must talk."
"Talk?" Calypso asked, handing Viktor a cocaine-laced cocktail. "Surely we will talk. But first, let me introduce you to my guests. Then, you can introduce me to this lovely creature with you…"
Meanwhile, in the corridor outside the function room, a disturbance was taking place. The sergeant who was stationed on the top of the WTC building now found himself pinned up against the wall by four Circle storm troopers, four Uzi barrels pointed at his head. The sergeant had foolishly burst into the corridor right after Viktor had entered the function room, and the Circle soldiers were on him in an instant.
"I tell you, there's a guy flying around outside!" the sergeant tried to tell the storm troopers. But they were looking at him as if they didn't speak the language.
The sergeant tried to wiggle free but the Circle soldiers didn't flinch. A number of Calypso's personal security guards were spoking on, but no way were they going to buck the Circle storm troopers.
"I'm trying to tell you," the sergeant pleaded. "There's a guy — he's in a little airplane — a rocket jet or something — flying around outside! I saw him!"
A Circle major appeared and leaned into the man. "He's drunk," the officer whispered sternly.
The man tried a third time. "Look, we're up on top of this 'scraper to be on the lookout, right? Well we've seen something!"
"A man in a 'little jet?' " the major mocked him. Then, he motioned the four soldiers to take care of the man.
The storm troopers hustled the now-screaming and kicking man out the exit door he'd come in through, and back up to the roof.
They didn't stop until they reached the edge. Without a moment's hesitation, they threw the struggling man off the roof and watched as he plunged 112 stories to his death.
The three other Calypso grunts had watched in terror as their boss was pitched over the edge. One of the Circle troopers turned his attention to them. He was dressed entirely in black and looked like a vision of death to the Calypso soldiers. "Anyone of you assholes see a man in a little jet?" he asked.
Inside, Viktor had already tired of Calypso and his crude excuse for a party.
But he was here to deal.
He pulled on the obese man's robe. "We must talk, Mr. Calypso," he said.
"Yes, talk!" Calypso said loudly. "Let us talk. Here. In front of my friends.
I have no secrets."
Viktor shifted his eyes around the room. Mid-Aks, Family, air pirates. All losers. Even the Russians were cowering in the far corner as if they had left home without their guns. He decided to show them all how a real winner operated.
"Very well. I call for a toast to you, Mr. Calypso," Viktor said loud enough for all the guests to hear. "To a man of real courage. A man who knows wealth and how to use it!"
"Hear! Hear!" the crowd laughed.
"Now, let us make a deal," Viktor said. The crowd gathered in a little, forming a loose circle around the two men. "I understand you have a map. A very valuable map."