Game of Shadows

by R. J. Patterson

  “Chris, I’m gonna—”

  She stopped as a fire alarm blared in the room and warned all the archivists to exit immediately.

  “This is a fire drill,” said a woman’s voice over the facility’s intercom system. “All employees and guests please leave the premises immediately and report to the courtyard.”

  Blunt closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. He recognized the voice over the intercom as Alex’s. If the scenario had been different, he would’ve smiled. But he scowled, his expression grave. Blunt was still in danger of getting caught as long as the archivist remained in the room.

  The woman growled in frustration and hustled toward the entrance of the sealed records room.

  “Chris, I’m waiting for you,” she said.

  Blunt didn’t hear any more sounds for a few seconds before she spoke again.

  “You’re gonna pay for this,” she said and exited the room, the door latching shut behind her.

  Blunt exhaled and slumped against the end of the shelf.

  Alex!

  He waited a few seconds before carefully opening the folder. Without much time before everyone would return to the building, Blunt didn’t even read the documents. Instead, he quickly flipped through the pages, stopping briefly to take a picture of each one. There were more than three dozen pages, all of which he was able to capture. He returned the papers into the file and re-sealed it.

  Scrambling to his feet, Blunt hustled toward the exit. He kept his head down as he noticed all of the archivists had exited the floor. When he reached the security checkpoint, one worker remained, scanning all of the items going in and out the room.

  “Sir, do you hear that fire alarm going off?” the guard asked.

  Blunt nodded.

  “You need to hustle more quickly next time. If that was a real fire, your life would be in danger.”

  “Sorry, I heard it was a drill—and I was in the can,” Blunt said. “When nature calls…”

  The guard rolled his eyes and waived Blunt through the turnstile. Once he reached the courtyard, all of the researchers were mingling with the archivists, all complaining about having to stand outside in the cold without having time to retrieve their jackets from the locker rooms.

  Blunt didn’t stop, maintaining his steady stride toward the parking lot. He had just cleared the plaza where everyone had congregated when someone called after him.

  “Where are you going, sir?” asked a woman.

  Blunt turned to see the archivist who’d helped him with his first pull of the morning.

  “Oh, I think I’ve got everything I needed.”

  She smiled. “Oh, okay. You need to check your cart back in if you’re finished.”

  “Would you be a dear and do it for me?” Blunt asked as he glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a pressing appointment, and I have no idea how much longer it’ll take before we’re allowed back inside.”

  “I’m sure I can handle that for you. Have a nice day, and thanks for visiting.”

  Blunt nodded and resumed his march toward his car.

  “Nice work, sir,” Alex said over the coms.

  Blunt looked over his shoulder to make sure no one could hear him.

  “What on earth happened?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  “I don’t know. The coms went dead for a while. I’m guessing that maybe you were in a section of the building where we couldn’t get reception.”

  “I was starting to panic.”

  “That’s understandable. I probably would be too if I was in that same situation, but I was monitoring you the whole time.”

  “Quick thinking about the fire alarms,” Blunt said. “I swear that archivist was about six feet away from me.”

  “I’d guess maybe three feet,” Alex said. “She was just around the corner from you when she spun and headed toward the door. We were very fortunate. Sorry to scare you like that, sir. It’s not easy to hack into some of these government facilities, even when you know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m just glad nobody saw me.”

  “Roger that,” she said. “Did you get what you were looking for?”

  “I’ll know in a minute once I look through them,” Blunt said. “I didn’t have a chance to read anything as I was just taking pictures as fast as I could.”

  “Okay. Well, safe travels back to Washington.”

  “Thanks, Alex.”

  Blunt hung up and walked toward his car. Once he reached it, he climbed inside and immediately opened the sealed file of Capt. Black.

  Blunt found the incident in question and started carefully reading the report. He found the man who gave the order for Capt. Black’s mission and directed the record to be sealed.

  Blunt’s mouth fell agape as he stared at the page.

  CHAPTER 12

  Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

  THE KC-130 SHIMMIED as the plane withstood a long stretch of turbulence. Black looked at Shields in the bench seat next to him, her knuckles turning white as she tightened her grip on the edge of her seat. With eyes glazed over and focused on the floor, she appeared pale and on the verge of throwing up.

  “I thought you liked flying,” Black said, his voice vibrating as the plane shook.

  “Not like this,” she said, her gaze unbroken.

  Black tried to suppress a smile forming across his lips. “So, you only enjoy traveling in one of Blunt’s luxury jets?”

  “Considering that my teeth are rattling out of my mouth and we’re babysitting this lunatic, I don’t think it should come as a surprise that I’d rather fly any other way but by strapping myself into a KC-130 to get across the Atlantic.”

  Black shrugged. “I tried to convince Blunt otherwise, but he said that because we were transporting a prisoner for the CIA, we had to use military transportation.”

  Shields grunted and closed her eyes. “This is why I could never be a soldier. There’s just no reason anyone ever needs to be subjected to something like this.”

  “Would you like for me to get you a paper sack for your nausea?” he asked.

  “I will stomp on your foot. And let me assure you that carbon fiber and titanium don’t feel all that great when smashed on your toes.”

  Black withdrew. “How about I just take your word for it?”

  She cast a sideways glance at him before peeking at Antoine, who was chained to his seat across from them.

  “What did Blunt tell you about me?” Antoine asked. “I know you had to speak with him.”

  Black cocked his head to one side and scowled. “Are you really that concerned about what people think about you? That’s generally not a trait I’ve seen associated with most assassins I’ve come across.”

  “I couldn’t care less what people think about me,” Antoine said with a snarl. “But I don’t like being vilified and framed.”

  “Your own government did that to you, according to Blunt,” Shields said.

  “What else did he tell you? That I kill for sport?”

  “Something like that,” Black said.

  “Well, ask Blunt what other kind of things he asked me to do,” Antoine said. “The truth is he tried to get me to clean up one of his messes. He used me and then to keep my mouth shut put me on every watch list on the planet.”

  “Is that why you have to resort to relying on the mafia to keep you hidden?” Shields asked.

  Antoine shook his head. “My relationship with Mr. Duca goes back a long time.”

  “But he was still going to kill you?” she asked.

  “You don’t understand, though I’m not sure I can expect you to if you’ve never had any dealings with Duca. There are certain areas you don’t mess with—and one of those is his daughter. If he would’ve caught me, he would’ve held me responsible for leading you to his estate and ultimately ruining his daughter’s party.”

  “Sounds like a great family guy,” Black said.

  “I know you’re joking, but he puts his family above his own mafia family,”
Antoine said. “I once saw him stab his top lieutenant in the neck after he criticized Duca’s son for his performance in a soccer match. Everyone watched the guy bleed out on the floor. Then Duca turned to all the people in the room and warned them that this is what happens to anyone who speaks ill of his children.”

  “You’re saying that with a hint of admiration in your voice,” Shields said.

  “I admire a man who operates out of conviction.”

  Black chuckled. “No wonder it’s come to this for you. You’re a soul without a compass.”

  “Don’t act like you’re morally superior,” Antoine said. “I’ve heard about some of the things you’ve done.”

  “The justice I exact for my country is deserved,” Black said.

  “Is it really?” Antoine asked as he laughed softly. “That’s exactly what I would expect someone like you to say. You ride around on your high horse as if the rest of the world is morally bankrupt, all the while ignoring every—”

  Antoine stopped talking, and his stare went blank he swayed back and forth. After a moment, he went limp and fell to his left. His head came to rest on the seat two spots away. A beeping noise went off, alerting them that something was wrong.

  “What is that?” Shields asked.

  “An alarm of some sort,” Black said.

  “I know that,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “I want to know where it’s coming from.”

  Shields turned her head so it was facing the front of the plane and leaned toward Antoine’s position.

  “What do you hear?” Black asked.

  “It sounds like it’s coming from Antoine.”

  They both unbuckled and rushed over to him. Black knelt next to their captive and checked his pulse, while Shields checked his pants.

  “What are you looking for?” Black asked.

  “His blood sugar monitor,” Shields said. “He told us that he was a diabetic when we were searching him earlier.”

  “I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “That’s why we’re a team,” she said. “Now go get him some water, and see if you can find something for him to eat over there.”

  Black went over to Shields’s pack, found a water bottle and a granola bar, and then hustled back to her.

  “This ought to do the trick,” she said as she snatched the snack from him and peeled it open.

  Black splashed some water in Antoine’s face. “Are you all right?”

  Antoine slowly rose. “I’d be a lot better off if I wasn’t chained to a chair in a U.S. military transport plane.”

  “The alarm on your monitor went off,” Shields said. “Drink some of this water and eat this.”

  Antoine sat up groggily and followed her instructions, shoveling the food into his mouth.

  “All better?” she asked.

  “I’m getting there,” he said between mouthfuls. “I’m just glad I was with you two when this happened. Blunt would’ve let me die.”

  “Enough with the commentary,” Black said.

  “Did you look up Blue Moon Rising Enterprises like I told you to?”

  Black shook his head. “I’m not interested in getting into this kind of game with you.”

  Antoine shook his head. “All I’m saying is that you should know what kind of man you’re working for, that’s all.”

  Black and Shields returned to their seats and rode along in silence. But the thoughts in Black’s head were deafening. He wanted to think he could trust Blunt fully, but Black started to wonder.

  And he wasn’t going to rest easy until he found the truth.

  “I need to make a call,” Black said.

  “Who?”

  “An old friend who might be able to help me get to the bottom of this thing.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT AWOKE TO LOUD rapping on his door just after 6:30 a.m. He stumbled out of bed and threw on a housecoat before lumbering downstairs. Muttering a few choice words, he shuffled down the hallway and checked his security monitor before answering.

  “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be making house calls?” Blunt said after opening the door.

  Robert Besserman, dressed in a dark suit, held out a cup of coffee. “A peace offering?”

  “Get inside,” Blunt said, waving Besserman into the house and then taking the drink.

  Besserman followed Blunt into the kitchen where the two men sat at the bar.

  “What’s this all about?” Blunt said. “I can’t imagine it’s good news.”

  Besserman sighed and shook his head. “This couldn’t wait.”

  “You’re starting to worry me, Bobby. Just spit it out.”

  “Elliott is about to go public with the hearing,” Besserman said. “According to one of my sources at the capitol building, he’s gathering sworn affidavits and is putting you at the center of his crosshairs. He’s planning on springing a few surprise questions when you take the stand.”

  Blunt took a long sip of his coffee. “There’s no way I’m taking the stand. That’d be lunacy.”

  “I know that’s not ideal, but if you don’t, it’s only going to make you look guilty of the exact thing Elliott claims is going on.”

  “Wilson Wellington,” Blunt muttered. “That guy has a closet full of skeletons.”

  “More like a garage full. But he’s been airing his dirty laundry for a while now and is on some crusade to expose his past deeds to show how he’s reformed.”

  “He’s just trying to keep his seat. That guy is more slippery than a pocket full of pudding.”

  “Apparently, there are people who are buying it, mainly the voters in his district. You’ll have to dig deep to unearth something he hasn’t been honest about. Most of what he’s revealed about his past is just low-level corruption that almost every member of congress is guilty of at some point.”

  Blunt huffed a laugh through his nose. “That shouldn’t be too hard to do.”

  “Well, if you’re going to leverage that into stopping the hearing, you better do it quick before these details about what Elliott plans to do are leaked to the media. From what I understand, he also has a surprise witness that’s going to bring down everything.”

  “A surprise witness?” Blunt asked as he narrowed his eyes. “That’s not how hearings are supposed to work.”

  “Of course not, but when Wilson Wellington is orchestrating things behind the scenes, all bets are off.”

  “Who could he possibly trot out there? A disgruntled operative? I’ve ticked some people off in my day, but not by doing anything nefarious. They’d be opening up a can of worms if they want to put the intelligence community on trial.”

  “Which is why everyone has been working tirelessly to put an end to this charade,” Besserman said. “But all that pressure has made Elliott dig his heels in deeper. And now we’re at a point where some operations are going to be very disrupted, if not exposed, if we don’t figure out a way to end this. Unfortunately, you’re at ground zero on all of this.”

  “So, you’re telling me I need to stop this?”

  Besserman nodded. “We’ve done just about all we can do, applying as much pressure as possible to Elliott.”

  “Maybe that’s your problem,” Blunt said. “You’re going after the wrong guy. Wellington is the one who can end it.”

  “We’ve tried, but he seems impervious at the moment to any accusations levied against him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Blunt said. “I’ve got something that will make him stop in his tracks.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Then we’re all screwed.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Undisclosed location just

  outside Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT WASN’T A STRANGER to CIA black sites, but this was one he’d never been to before—or at least if he had, he didn’t remember it. He sat in the far back seat of the black SUV and spoke in hushed tones with his escort, Robert Besserman.

  “Are you su
re you want to see Antoine?” Besserman asked.

  “I don’t think I’d spit on him if he was on fire after the kind of trouble he’s caused me,” Blunt said. “But we were tasked with finding Dr. Matthews, and I need to know if that was some ruse or if he’s still alive. I owe it to his daughter to find out since every other organization has abandoned the search for him.”

  “And if Antoine was just playing you, then what?”

  “I don’t know. Put him in a dark hole in the ground or turn him over to Interpol? Makes no difference to me. He’s been a problem for numerous intelligence agencies around the world, so I’m sure any one of them would relish the opportunity to extract a pound of flesh from him.”

  Their vehicle ground to a halt just outside the gate. The guard inspected their documents before waving the pair inside.

  “Just don’t make it personal,” Besserman said. “I’ve heard Antoine has quite a way of manipulating people.”

  “Don’t worry,” Blunt said. “I know all his mind games. After all, I was the one who taught them to him.”

  Blunt entered the interrogation room where Antoine sat with his hands chained to the desk in front of him. He didn’t even glance at Blunt as he entered the room, instead staring at the two-way mirror.

  “If you wanted to talk, you could’ve just called,” Blunt said as he settled into the chair across from Antoine.

  Antoine narrowed his eyes as he turned his gaze toward Blunt. “Do you think this is some kind of joke? Because I can assure you that it isn’t.”

  “I know you tried to kill one of my agents.”

  Antoine looked down at his hand and shook his head. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  “Then perhaps you should reassess your life goals.”

  “Do you think I’m going to let you get away with what you did?” Antoine asked as he glared at Blunt.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Blunt said. “You were the one who decided to take justice into your own hands.”

  “That problem needed to be dealt with—those were your words, not mine.”

  “I never gave you an order. I was simply venting frustration.”