by S L Shelton
“What the fuck?!” Richards exclaimed.
“There’s no need for that kind of language,” Burgess said, an angry grimace settling on his features. “There are ladies present.”
Richards wasn't sure if Burgess was being a gentleman of his generation or just taking the opportunity to scold him like schoolboy in front of the others. “You can play the shell game with Gaines if you like, but there will be repercussions,” Richards said, rising out of his seat a bit.
Burgess was about to speak again when John Temple cut in.
“Gaines is a trained CIA operative with high-level escape and evasion training and experience,” Temple said in a commanding tone. “In addition, he has secrets in that head of his that require safe guarding—and as if that weren’t enough, he's one of the most skilled hand-to-hand combatants this agency has ever produced. We couldn't simply stick him on the bus to county lockup.”
Richards calmed down a bit and sat back down.
“Transport, escort, and detention has to be arranged and secured in a manner compliant with National Security directives,” John continued. “And changing those plans midstream is time and resource consuming. Neither of which are easy to come by after a day of national lockdown such as today.”
Richards nodded his understanding, feeling sufficiently chastised.
“In the meantime, the Department of Justice has indicated they have an interest in Gaines as well,” Burgess added.
“I have an order from—” Richards began.
“Yes, yes, Judge Gunlock,” Burgess interrupted. “But Judge Chambers has asked that Miss Cantor and her attorneys from DOJ be present for the debrief so he can determine the appropriateness of that order.”
Ned began to turn red again. He knew that Chambers could dismiss Gunlock’s order if given cause. That would complicate things severely.
“So how do we proceed?” Richards asked.
“Well,” John said. “Your boys in black are still waiting in the lobby. You can start by sending them home. They won’t be needed tonight.”
Embarrassment and anger welled up in Richards again. He flicked his wrist at one of his lawyers without looking at him. The man took out his phone and proceeded to make the call.
“Let’s start the debrief,” Richards said as the man made his call. “Let’s start by getting the identities of the Agents involved in Gaines’s capture.”
John Temple raised his hand. “That would be me,” he said with a pleased look on his face.
“I was under the impression there were more people involved,” Richards said.
Burgess gave Temple a strange look and nodded.
“I was the only officer involved in the capture,” Temple said. “But I had technical support accompanying me.”
“Is that person in the room?” Richards asked, looking around the table.
“No,” Burgess replied. “He is a civilian contractor. He’s since been detached to another project.”
“Civilian contractor?” Richards asked hopefully. “Baynebridge?”
“No,” Burgess replied. “A computer and surveillance specialist on an Agency contract.”
“But—” Richards started, about to ask about the second fighter in the alley before realizing that would reveal too much about his information. “Never mind. When can I meet with him?”
“We haven’t established that will be necessary,” Burgess said commandingly. “It may expose other operations we have in the works. We can’t compromise national security because of a prisoner handover.”
“This isn’t just a prisoner handover,” Richards said, matching Burgess’s tone. “I’m also collecting INTEL on the attacks. I need to know if anyone had direct contact with Gaines and what information may have been relayed.”
Burgess shot Temple another strange look and shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” Temple said. “Until we have a determination from Judge Chambers, the contractor stays anonymous. But I can tell you that no information was revealed by Gaines. We were caught completely off guard by the attacks. There was no indication he had the means or the desire to kill those radio and TV hosts.”
“What about any other INTEL on site at the time of his capture?” Richards asked. “Was anything recovered?”
Temple nodded his head. “There was a device that appeared to be constructed to fire eight non-explosive rockets from the undercarriage of a vehicle,” he said. “We were aware of the acquisition of the training rounds and all were accounted for at the time of his capture.”
“Well that sounds like ‘means and desire’ to me!” Richards said, a little victory in his voice.
“The rounds were, as I said, non-explosive, set to fire in tandem, and were all accounted for,” Temple reiterated. “There was no sign of any explosives or any hint of a target list.”
“Well, it would seem the CIA missed some clues then,” Richards said smugly. “Because he obviously managed to eliminate a rather extensive and very public list of targets.”
“How can you be so sure?” Burgess asked.
I hope your evidence is airtight, Heinrich, Richards thought to himself.
“We have route, access, and target evidence from our own sources,” Richards replied. “We’ve had our eye on Gaines for more than a week now.”
Temple turned to Burgess and they exchanged a brief look before Temple continued.
“There was no evidence of such a motivation when we caught up to him,” Temple reiterated. “But if you’ve been tracking him, then certainly you would have been aware of the assistance he had been providing on a DOJ investigation.”
Ned shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Braun had warned him that subject might come up.
“We were aware of an investigation, but have no details,” he replied. “If you have more information on that, DHS would certainly appreciate being brought into the loop on its progress and any findings.”
John stared at Richards for several seconds before responding. Miss Cantor was looking very confused, and she was about to speak when Temple responded.
“We have no idea what the investigation had uncovered or any details on the subject of the investigation,” John said. “All we know is that Mark was aiding a Deidre Faulks at the DOJ and that the investigation ended abruptly when Ms. Faulks was murdered a little more than two weeks ago.”
Surprise appeared on Miss Cantor’s face. This was clearly news to her.
“I see,” Richards said as he tried to hide his discomfort. “So you have no information on the investigation. Gaines didn’t share anything about that with you?”
“No,” Temple said, relaxing his expression. “He didn’t. We didn’t exactly chat.”
“And how about this civilian contractor?” Richards asked. “Might he have gotten any information from Gaines?”
“Unlikely,” Temple replied.
“Unlikely, but you don’t know for sure,” Richards said.
“If it makes any difference,” the Justice lawyer piped up. “We’d be interested in hearing the testimony of this contractor as well.”
“Let me make a call to our legal department and see what our exposure level would be if we brought him in,” Burgess interjected.
The man next to him nodded his agreement.
“While I’m doing that, why don’t we take a short break,” Burgess said and looked at Temple nodding toward his office.
Everyone began rising from the table as Temple and Burgess retreated into the office next door.
Richards got the sudden feeling a trap was being laid for him.
**
JOHN TEMPLE closed the door to the office. Burgess was standing in front of his desk staring at him when he turned around.
“I don’t know what’s going on out there, but we are going to be up to our assholes in congressional hearings if this goes south on us,” John said. “This is starting to smell real bad.”
Burgess nodded. “At least we bought some time,” he said. “Richards would have
his security team back down here in a second if he knew Gaines was downstairs when he arrived.”
“Nice work pulling together that disappearing act on such short notice,” John chuckled.
Burgess grinned. “It helps to know all the players.”
“Was Judge Chambers terribly upset about the late call?” John asked.
Burgess shook his head. “He was grateful for the heads up,” he replied. “I don’t think anyone at Justice knew this was coming, so they were pretty grateful as well.”
“Look,” John said, plopping down in the chair in front of Burgess’s desk. “I don’t mind Scott getting debriefed by Justice, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him get mixed up in whatever this is with Homeland.”
“We might not have a choice,” Burgess replied, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. “But let me call legal and see if we have a leg to stand on.”
John nodded as he got up and headed for the door.
“And John,” Burgess said as he picked up the phone on his desk. “Be careful what you say to Richards. Whatever it is he’s into, he’s in over his head. The last thing we want is to spook him.”
“Yes, sir,” John replied and then exited Burgess’s office.
When he got into the conference room, he looked up and saw that two additional people had joined at his end of the table—bringing the Homeland Security contingent up to five.
“This is going to be a long night,” John muttered.
twelve
Tuesday, July 27th
2:05 a.m.—Fairfax, Virginia
I was sound asleep for the first time in days when my phone awakened me. I noted it was about 2:00 a.m. as I answered.
“Hello,” I said groggily.
“I’m sorry to wake you.” John’s voice.
“What’s up?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“I can’t talk long, we are just on a short break,” he said in a quiet voice. “You’re going to have to debrief again.”
“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, getting some clarity as I began to boot up.
“Homeland has latched onto this,” he said, “this” obviously being the situation with Gaines. He wouldn’t mention it over the phone.
“Okay. How does that affect me?” I asked.
“Someone will pick you up in the morning,” he replied. “We tried to keep you out of it, but they aren’t having it.”
“Understood,” I replied. “Same rules as before?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll know more tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I replied. “What time?”
“Not sure,” he said. Then his voice got even lower. “Gotta go.”
The call ended abruptly.
I lay back down and tried to get back to sleep, but Gaines was fresh in my head again. I tossed and turned for a few hours before finally giving up and went into the kitchen to make coffee. After my third cup, I got dressed and headed into work early.
I sent John a text as I got into my car: “On my way to work.”
A moment later I got a reply as I pulled to a stop at the intersection of the Fairfax County Parkway. It read: “Still in a holding pattern here.”
**
A few hours later
I was at my desk, working on the nuke movement simulation, when my intercom buzzed. I hit speaker.
“Mr. Wolfe. There is a gentleman here from Langley to escort you to a meeting.” It was the voice of our security guard at the front desk.
This is it, I thought.
I punched ‘mute’ with my finger and yelled into the other office. “Jo? Do I have a meeting at Langley today?” I asked, not wanting to have to face uncomfortable questions upon my departure.
“No,” she replied immediately.
I hit the speaker button again. “Okay. I’ll be up in a second.”
I shut down my system and walked into Jo’s work area.
“Apparently I do,” I said as I walked by her desk. “There are five new projects in the queue. Two of them are going to require Storc’s help.”
She nodded as she pulled the list up.
“Are you going to be back today?” she asked as I shouldered my canvas shoulder bag and headed for the door.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “If anything important pops up, text me.”
“Alright,” she replied, already opening the files for her new projects.
When I went through the secure door into reception, I was shocked to see Nick Horiatis—the man, the myth, the legend—who, with my assistance, had pulled a cargo container full of hostages out of the back of an in-flight, Russian-built, cargo plane.
“Nick!” I exclaimed, genuinely happy to see him. “It’s good to see you, man!” I extended my hand to shake his.
He smiled and returned the gesture. “Good to see you, Scott. You look no worse for the wear,” he said, knocking me in the shoulder with the side of his closed hand.
“You look sharp too. Nice suit,” I complimented.
“There’s a uniform for every duty in the job description,” he said. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the security guard lifted his gaze to take another look at Nick. The ‘uniform’ comment piqued his interest.
“You feeling okay? I heard about this weekend. No broken bones?” he asked jokingly.
I suddenly felt very uncomfortable talking around the security guard.
“Let’s get going,” I said before I turned and looked at the guard. “Have a good one, Officer Brown.”
“Thank you, sir,” he said curtly as we left.
On the ride to Langley, Nick had been directed to bring me up to speed.
“There are things I’m supposed to tell you about and specific things I’ve been told not to reveal. But for the life of me I can’t remember which are which, so I’ll just tell you everything and sort it out later,” he said, winking at me.
“Okay. Let’s start with the second debrief,” I responded.
“Homeland is calling the assassinations an act of terror,” he said, his face growing serious.
“They want him,” I acknowledged. “Why is that a problem?”
“They are classifying him an enemy combatant,” he replied. “That means rendition.”
“I thought we didn’t do rendition anymore,” I said, “as a nation.”
“Yeah. There are other words that can be used for the same thing,” he replied with a cruel grin. “The government has been disappearing people since before we had a Constitution. It’s a tradition unlikely to end any time soon.”
“Does it make any difference that Gaines was working with a Justice Department investigator who got killed just before all this happened?” I asked.
“You don’t have to convince me,” he said as we merged onto the highway. “It makes perfect sense to me. As far as I’m concerned, he was on an Op that went bad. Whoever he was after found out who he was and killed his sister as a warning. Not too bright, obviously. There are some people you just don’t fuck with like that.”
“So why am I being hauled in?” I asked.
Nick shrugged. “Homeland wants to do the debrief on you themselves,” he replied. “I’m not sure why.”
“John gave me rules before for what I should and shouldn’t say,” I mentioned as we slowed behind some heavy traffic.
Nick looked at me with a serious stare. “We can’t tell you to lie,” he said and waited for me to respond.
“That’s it?” I replied incredulously. “You can’t tell me to lie?”
He smiled before refocusing on the road as traffic started moving again. “I don’t know what it means, so don’t tell me, but John said, ‘Same rules as before and don’t mention the papers.’” He saw the realization on my face. “Seriously. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to be involved in this shit.”
I nodded my understanding.
“How’d Homeland say he did it?” I asked.
“Automation is a wonderful thing,” he said. “He modified desk chairs all over LA on
Friday and Saturday. The way they figured it, he had already finished with at least Grimwall’s before you caught up with him the first time.”
“God damn it,” I muttered.
“You couldn’t have done anything. They had him doped and questioned all night before the attack and he didn’t spill anything. It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he said, trying to let me off the hook. “You have to learn that, first thing if you are going to do this kind of work—most of the time, delegation means you do your job and then pass it off to the next group to do their job.”
I nodded and grunted my understanding, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle.
“What about the explosions in Denver, Chicago, and Albuquerque?” I asked.
“They say they have the transponder log on his stolen government vehicle in Chicago before he disabled it,” he replied. “And they have satellite imagery of him in Denver and Albuquerque. But more than that, they have his target list.”
“That's bullshit,” I said. “I had eyes on him all the way from Colorado Springs. He didn't stop in Albuquerque.”
Nick shot me a nervous glance. “Does John know that?”
“Yeah!” I exclaimed. “He was with me the whole time.”
Nick shook his head. “Not that I want to be involved… Mark isn't a friend of mine. But I'll remind John there is conflicting data,” he said seriously in a quieter voice. “They still have his target list. They say he stole the information from a Baynebridge VP.”
“The target list?” I muttered. I need to get those account numbers to John. “I bet the Justice investigation is tied to the murders…and Homeland, if they're pushing this bullshit story.”
“Keep that sort of insight to yourself in this meeting,” he said. “The last thing you want Homeland Security to think is that you know more than you’re telling. You could be next on their list.”
“Awesome,” I said sarcastically. “Just so I know whose side I’m supposed to be on, who am I taking my lead from?”
“The old man,” Nick said. “He’ll be there as well.”
“John?” I asked.
