Wolfe Trap

by S L Shelton

  “That will do, Mr. Wolfe. You’ve convinced me,” Cantor replied, sounding a bit annoyed, but I heard John chuckle in the background so I didn’t worry about it.

  The screech in my ears began to diminish almost immediately.

  “I can tell you with complete certainty that was the same man,” I reassured her. “We even had a brief conversation about our first meeting in Burbank.”

  There was a momentary pause on the other end of the line. “A conversation about Burbank?” Cantor asked. “What was said?”

  “Not much,” I replied quietly. “Just a reference, asking which of the two I was… I used it as a distraction before I—”

  “That will do, Scott,” John said urgently.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied with a mild grin.

  “I hope this helps you, Miss Cantor,” Director Burgess said quickly, steering the conversation back to whatever had prompted the call to begin with. “With a little notice, we’ll be happy to produce Scott for any questions the AG might have.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Cantor replied. “He’s given me some leeway on this deal.”

  A deal! I thought. They’re going to let Mark out in exchange for his cooperation. After four months of sitting in a cell—a cell he was in because of the beating I gave him and his subsequent capture—he might actually get set free. That would go a long way toward healing the lingering guilt I felt over hurting him so badly. It was odd, though—I couldn’t put my finger on the last time I had felt that kind of guilt.

  I quickly pushed that question aside and instead kept quiet, hoping I’d hear more inadvertent detail disclosures.

  “Thank you, Scott,” Director Burgess said. “We’re sorry to have disrupted your training. I’ll let you get back to it.”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, not letting my disappointment reflect in my tone. “Happy to help.”

  The connection ended abruptly.

  As I stood and slipped my phone back into my pocket, two Baynebridge guards turned the corner and walked toward me briskly. I recognized one of them as the one who had threatened me in the mess hall the morning the SEALs had chased me back to camp.

  “You there,” he said. “What are you doing back here?”

  “Playing hide and seek with some of the other kids.”

  He didn’t think that was funny and moved toward me in a threatening manner. When he reached his arm toward me, I pushed it to the side and elbowed him in the chest, sending him to the ground. I noted the body armor under the uniform.

  His partner pulled his sidearm and leveled it at my head as the first fellow got back to his feet. The first guard must have assumed he had the upper hand at that point because he shoved me roughly against the building and put his arm against my throat. As soon as he reached for the phone in my pocket, I grabbed his wrist and spun him around while simultaneously drawing the Smith and Wesson pistol from his holster. Using him as a shield, I pointed the stolen weapon at his partner.

  “Drop it,” the man yelled.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you search me,” I replied nervously, realizing I had just escalated this confrontation to a point where I would be unable to talk my way out. “I have sensitive information on my person.”

  “Drop the weapon now,” the partner said again with a raised voice and depressed the button on his radio. “Back up required, behind building forty-two.”

  I grabbed the radio mic on the shoulder of my hostage and clicked it on. “Senior instructor required at building forty-two. Security stand down.”

  “Belay that,” the guard said, but I kept the button held down so his message would have been nothing more than a faint echo over the other radios.

  I smiled at him as I heard footsteps running in our direction. In the middle of the crowd was Ray, still sporting the cast on the arm I had broken escaping my waterboarding.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ray yelled as he stepped in front of the other guards who were now drawing their weapons on me as well. I hunkered down a little further behind my human shield.

  “This candidate was observed with contraband electronics,” the guard in front of me said, still pointing his weapon in the vicinity of my head. “When we attempted to confiscate the item, he took Jerry’s weapon and took him hostage.”

  I lowered my stolen weapon a bit as Ray stepped between the guard and me. “Both of you, put them away,” he said, glaring first at me and then at the guard.

  As soon as the other guy began to lower his arm, I tucked my hostage’s weapon back into his holster and shoved him away from me. He immediately turned to rush back at me, but Ray quickly reached out and slapped his hand on the guard’s chest, stopping his forward movement.

  “He’d kill you before you raised a hand to him,” Ray said as two other Baynebridge men grabbed him by the shoulders and arms and began tugging him away. The other guard, the one who had drawn on me, was still standing there with a sneer, his weapon still in his hand, though now it was pointing at the ground.

  “Let’s have it,” Ray said, holding out his hand.

  I reached into my pocket and slowly withdrew my phone.

  “That’s two days in the hole,” Ray said as he reached for it.

  “Before you pass sentence, hit redial on the last number received,” I said, pointing to the number.

  He looked down at the phone and then back at me for a beat before hitting the number. I was almost certain he recognized it as a Langley extension. As it connected, I reached over and hit the speaker button just in time for the Director of the National Clandestine Service to answer.

  “Burgess,” the director said.

  Ray looked up at me with red flushed across his cheeks. He didn’t respond immediately, leading the director to answer again. “Hello?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ray said as his embarrassment caused more red to creep up his neck and ears. “This is Ray Parson at the Farm. I’m sorry to bother you sir, but one of our students was just detained by security while in possession of a banned device.”

  “Which student?” I heard John ask after a click on the other end made it obvious we were back on speaker there as well.

  “Scott Wolfe, sir,” Ray replied, looking at me with anger.

  “Is the banned device by any chance the phone you are calling from?” Burgess asked.

  “Indeed it is, sir,” Ray said, glaring at me as I tried to suppress a grin…rather unsuccessfully.

  There was a short pause at the other end. “Ray. That’s my doing,” came John’s voice. “I can’t really get into it, but there is an official reason for Scott to have that phone.”

  “Understood,” Ray said as he handed it back to me. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No bother at all,” Director Burgess replied. “I know you have those rules for good reason, and I apologize that it’s interfered with your training day. I can assure you, it’s Langley’s heat on the infraction, not Mr. Wolfe’s.”

  “No apologies required, sir. We just needed to clear up the mystery.”

  “Good, good. I’ll let you get back to work,” Burgess replied.

  “Give me a call when you get a free moment, Ray,” John inserted, sounding chummy.

  “Will do, John,” Ray replied as the connection was severed. He spun around to face the guard. “Did he have a weapon before you attempted to detain him?”

  The guard suddenly looked very nervous. “He disarmed Jerry when we attempted to restrain him,” he replied defensively.

  “Did he have a weapon?” Ray repeated, raising his voice.

  “No, sir,” the guard replied stiffly.

  “These are US government employees in training,” Ray said, dressing down the Baynebridge man. “There is a happy middle ground between protecting a facility and running it like a prison. These aren’t inmates. If you witness a protocol violation that isn’t life threatening, it isn’t your job to subdue and detain. You are to report it…that’s all. Those are the rules, and frankly, the
y are for your protection, because the people who come through here are more than just a little capable of killing a fucking security guard. You got me, Rambo?”

  I could feel my face flush red, deeply impressed by the ferocity with which he lashed them. It was moving, being defended that aggressively. I couldn’t remember it happening ever before in all of my life.

  “Yes, sir,” the man snapped with a sneer.

  “Then get the fuck out of my sight.”

  The guard walked away, along with the remaining Baynebridge men, leaving me alone with Ray. As he turned back toward me, he still had an angry sneer on his face, but I saw amusement at the corner of his eyes and tugging ever so gently at the corners of his mouth. He glared at me for several long beats while I kept my face an absolute blank.

  “Why are you here?” he asked eventually.

  “I’m not sure I understand the question,” I replied. “In what regard?”

  “You don’t need to be trained,” he said in exasperation. “Why are you here?”

  “John Temple recruited me to work for the Agency,” I replied quietly. “I’m doing my best to learn what’s expected of me.”

  He shook his head. “The only thing you need training for is that belligerent, smart-assed attitude of yours,” he said as the grin began to win the battle with his sneer. “Unfortunately, I have a sneaking suspicion that your attitude and your success are two sides of the same coin.”

  I shrugged innocently. “You’re the expert,” I said expectantly. “Graduate me, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Ha,” he scoffed with a broad grin. “If I had my way, you would have graduated and been out of here the afternoon you broke containment…and my arm.” He raised his arm slightly as if he had to remind me.

  “Don’t worry,” I replied. “You’ll have a whole week without me when we break for Christmas.”

  He glared for a second, measuring me before continuing. “Does this have anything to do with our security changes?” he asked finally.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” I lied. “But I suspect the call John asked you for will contain more information than I can give you.”

  He looked at me for another long moment before he put his hand on my shoulder and guided me back to the front of the building. “I hope so,” he said quietly. “Because I’d sure like to know if there’s a connection between the disruptive cycle you’ve created and the other changes they’ve got us making.”

  “John Temple is your man,” I responded as we rounded the corner. “If anyone can enlighten you, it’ll be him.”

  He grunted his acceptance of my deflection.

  I was relieved to be off the hook for information. I wondered if Ray had noticed that I had redirected him to an abstract source of information, real or fictional, liberating me from having to disclose anything more. I had to admit; even I was impressed at how smoothly I had integrated structured dissimulation into my character. The CIA was doing a good job training me—I approved of the results.

  He patted me on the back. “Get back to your class.”

  I trotted off toward the door but turned before I reached it. “I’m sorry about the drama,” I added as I leaned toward the entrance.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I just smiled. He was right; I was thrilled at the opportunity to take some Baynebridge guys down a peg. He was still shaking his head when I disappeared back into the building.

  When I came back into the classroom, I looked around the class and noted that Paul was missing. Other than that, it seemed that my little confrontation with security had gone undetected there.

  “He followed you out,” Dylan said in a whisper from behind me as I sat.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Paul… He followed you out,” Dylan repeated.

  I shrugged as if I hadn’t given it a second thought, but I didn’t discount the coincidence of Paul being outside when the Baynebridge Security Guards discovered me.

  I still wasn’t sure about Paul. He seemed to be nothing but a hard core Army Ranger with a mild antisocial personality disorder, compounded by a touch of megalomania. So I was surprised he would resort to ratting out a classmate about a contraband phone. It didn’t seem to be characteristic of someone with alpha male delusions.

  On the other hand, I had humiliated him on a number of occasions—though to be fair, he’d earned it.

  “And since Mr. Wolfe seems so knowledgeable in this subject that he’s comfortable taking a stroll in the middle of it, how about we get him to explain the fundamentals of dealing with a belligerent asset that can’t be bypassed due to operational requirements,” Marcus said, interrupting my thoughts of Paul.

  “A belligerent asset can be more easily steered than a friendly one sometimes,” I said, turning my attention back to the class. “First, you have to establish if the belligerence is genuine or simply a personality trait. But once you confirm, applying pressure on agitation points can result in predictable behavior.”

  “Can you provide an example of how you might apply this?” Marcus asked.

  “Certainly,” I replied with a grin. “If, for instance, you are being waterboarded, keeping your wits about you enough to discover personality flaws in a belligerent interrogator can offer you a window to affect his behavior. It’s most effective when you have an idea for escape but require action on your captor’s part to make it happen.”

  A red flush rose on Marcus’s ears as he glared at me for a moment. He had been there during my interrogation—he’d poured the water—he’d seen it happen. As he stared at me, I saw brief flashes of emotion dance across his face: embarrassment, agitation, anger, admiration, and then finally amusement. “It’s an extraordinary operative who can sniff out personality flaws while he’s being tortured.”

  He was stroking my ego…I let him think he had succeeded.

  I smiled as I reclined in my seat. “I’d have to agree with you there…completely.”

  **

  3:15 p.m. on Monday, October 25th (early the next week)—The Farm, Camp Peary, Virginia

  “Your team is falling behind, Farling.” Bailey yelled at Paul from the ground as four of us navigated the confidence course, an oversized and odd-looking combination of a team building and obstacle course.

  “You heard him, Leyla,” Paul hissed. “You’re slowing us down.”

  Paul, Leyla, and another female student by the name of Maria were one and two rungs below me on a contraption that looked like a giant ladder. The cross-timbers were spaced further apart as you climbed higher, with a full five feet between the top two “steps”. The obstacles on the course were specifically engineered to force team cooperation.

  Leyla looked back at Paul and sneered. At just slightly over five feet tall herself, the distance in the rungs of the ladder was making it difficult for her to keep her grip while helping Maria and Paul move higher.

  “She’s got it,” I yelled down at Paul, and I winked at Leyla. “You’ve got it,” I said in a lower voice, just for her.

  With Leyla’s help, and an outstretched arm from me, Maria moved up onto the rung I was standing on.

  “Whew!” she breathed as she shook the tension from one arm and then the other before looking at me and smiling.

  “You ready?” I asked.

  She nodded before we squatted as low as our grasps would allow, offering a hand to Leyla—it was her turn to come up to the top rung.

  As Maria reached down, her arm wasn’t quite long enough to get hold of Leyla’s wrist, so I began to lower myself into a seated position to help.

  “They haven’t got me yet,” Leyla suddenly yelled with panic in her voice as she began to move up without the stabilizing grasp of Maria or myself.

  “Move your ass!” Paul yelled from below her, pushing her up.

  She began to tip backward. The wide-eyed panic and the sudden tension in her face dumped a fresh batch of adrenaline into my bloodstream.

  “Paul!” she yelled as she lost the rest
of her balance.

  I quickly dropped to straddle the rung I was standing on and locked one foot over the other as I let myself fall sideways toward her. I reached out with my hand and grabbed for her wrist—my fingers closed, instead, around the palm of her hand. I pinched down tightly, stopping her backward tumble as she squealed from the pain of my grip. She reached out and grabbed my hand with her free one.

  Our eyes locked together as her hand started to fail on my wrist.

  “I’ve got you,” I said in a quiet, calm tone, trying to help her get past the panic.

  “It hurts,” Leyla said through gritted teeth, though the look of agony on her face had already clued me in to that fact.

  “Get your grip,” I said and called past her. “Paul, do you have her foot?”

  “I’ve got it,” he said with sincere urgency and apology in his tone.

  I was hanging nearly upside down at that point, held away from the structure only by the weight of Leyla. Above me, Maria held my feet together, obviously worried the extra weight would pull me from the bar.

  “Don’t you drop me,” she said with a quivering voice.

  I smiled at her reassuringly. “I could hold you and Paul if I had to.”

  I began to pull her toward me as the grimace on her face intensified. When she was close enough, she grabbed my arm more securely with her free hand, allowing me to get a better grip on her wrist. The relief in her face as I released my hold on her palm was enough to relax me too. I reached out with my other hand as she drew closer and pulled her tight to the post.

  “Jesus,” she whispered into my ear as I hung upside down next her.

  “Have you got her?” Paul called up with worry in his voice. His speech was muffled by her leg because she was standing on his chest.