“No, of course not. He was most upset with me. It was quite embarrassing for him.”
“Did he know about the escape in advance?”
“No.”
“Did this same friend help you get away?”
“Yes.”
“Did Andrews try to stop you?”
“No.”
Love paused, looking shocked.
“No? He didn’t even try to stop you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“He was handcuffed to the steering wheel of the vehicle at the time. He was unable to make an attempt to stop me.”
“But he would have tried?”
“Yes. I do not think I have ever seen him that pissed before.”
“Can you tell me anything else about the escape?”
He let out a breath as he recalled the moment, “Yes, Andrews was very unhappy about it.”
Love cleared her throat in an attempt to squelch a chuckle, “Besides that.”
“Is this why I am here?” he wondered.
“No, it isn’t,” Love assured. “Your friend, Andrews, and as it turns out, me as well, are both in big trouble with the FBI.”
“I gathered that much on my own. Tell me what you face,” he said, “and please, I will take the short version as well.”
“Fair enough,” Love replied. “FBI Director Randall Rice and his chief of staff brought me into investigate Andrews for misconduct and collusion. I suspected early on that their interests in bringing him down were more personal than professional, but I didn’t know why. During the course of the investigation, I uncovered what I believed to be an ulterior motive on their part. I don’t know all the details yet, but today’s little episode makes me think I’m getting close. I think the Director Rice wants you and Andrews dead, and I think they want you dead because a top-secret operation called . . . Wounded Falcon.”
Love sat back and studied Rainhorse’s face for a reaction. There was none—nothing. Not a raised eyebrow, not a held breath, no shifting in the seat, no nervous play with the hands. Nothing.
She remained quiet for a moment. Rainhorse seemed to process the information carefully before speaking.
“Where did you hear this name . . . Wounded Falcon?”
He did recognize it, Love thought.
“From a . . . friend,” Love replied coyly. Unless Rainhorse spoke to his attorney in the last twenty-four hours, he had no idea it was Summer Rose who told her about the operation.
“And the FBI thinks Andrews was involved in Wounded Falcon?”
“No, not involved,” Love answered. “I think it’s more likely they believe he is close to uncovering it.”
The waitress brought their food. Rainhorse began eating his omelet before the waitress even sat the pancake plate on the table.
As Rainhorse was eating Love could see him mentally processing what he’d been told. After two full minutes elapsed and he continued to eat silently, Love could no longer stand the silence.
“Aren’t you going to say something?” Love said.
Rainhorse swallowed, “I am eating. My wife tells me it is very impolite to speak with your mouth full, particularly around people you do not know well.”
“She’s right about that,” Love responded. “Stop eating long enough to tell me about the connection between Andrews and Wounded Falcon.”
“How would you know this?” he asked.
“Because I ran a search for Wounded Falcon on an FBI computer yesterday morning, and this morning my boss sent me to an abandoned fairground’s building where an assassin was waiting to kill me. Alt is the head of security. Somehow, my search sent up an electronic flag, and they acted on it right away.”
Rainhorse finished the omelet and began eating the pancakes.
“That would certainly give me pause as well,” he said, “but Andrews knows nothing of Wounded Falcon.”
“And you would know this . . . how?”
“I just do. Andrews is innocent. There was no collusion between he and I and Andrews is no threat to them with regard to Wounded Falcon. You must explain this to the FBI.”
“You want me to . . . explain it to them? Really?”
Rainhorse went back to eating, “The chocolate chip pancakes are very good. You were correct.”
“Maybe you’ve fallen behind on current events but the FBI tried to kill me this morning,” she replied, ignoring his review of the food, “and before you got to him, that same man told me he was going to kill Andrews this afternoon.”
“How long before Kelsey and Rice realize that Alt failed?” Rainhorse asked.
“I’m sure they’re sweating it out as we speak,” Love said.
“I will buy us some time,” Rainhorse said, reaching into his pocket.
“How will you do that?”
He held up a phone, “I have Alt’s cell. I will send Kelsey a text message. I will say, ‘The job is done. Cannot talk right now. Will speak to you soon.’”
“That’ll work short term,” Love said, “only Alt would be briefer and use contractions. Say, ‘Job’s done. Can’t talk. Call you soon.’”
“Wait a minute,” he said, fumbling with the phone. Love rolled her eyes and let out a sigh of exasperation watching the man try to text with his enormous thumbs and fingers. Finally, she could take it no more.
“Jesus Christ, just give me the phone. I’ll do it.”
Rainhorse handed her the phone. She began pecking a message.
“When Kelsey doesn’t reach Alt, he’ll call Blackshear,” she said as she typed. “He’ll tell Kelsey everything was going according to plan when he left.”
“When you are done, remove the battery from the phone,” Rainhorse said.
“Not my first rodeo, big guy,” she replied. “Done . . . HOLY SHIT.”
“What?”
“There are texts here between Kelsey and Alt,” she said. “They are written in code, but it’s damn obvious to me he was ordering my death.”
“Those texts will come in handy when the time comes.”
“You’re damn skippy, they will.”
“We must warn Andrews,” Rainhorse said. “Despite the misdirection, Kelsey will catch on sooner or later and send someone else to kill Andrews. He needs to hide until this can be resolved.”
“How will we resolve it?”
“Not sure. I am making it up as I go.”
“What do I do?”
“Do you have a way to reach Andrews that is not on his work cell?”
“Yes, I gave him a burner phone this morning.”
“Good. Call Andrews, tell him what happened with you this morning. Remove the batteries from your work cells, do not use Federal vehicles that can be traced. Do not use your credit card. Do not . . .”
“News flash!” Love interrupted. “I’m still an FBI Agent, remember?”
Rainhorse nodded, “Sorry. I have a burner as well. Let’s trade numbers. I am going to write down an address. It is a safe house—it is where I am staying. It is clean.”
“Since when do you have a safe house in Houston?”
“My friend, Hank Patterson, with the Brotherhood Protectors,” he said. “He has many resources. Do you have a pen?”
“Yes,” she said, fishing it out of her jacket pocket and handing it to him.
Rainhorse wrote the address on a napkin, “Here. The house is completely off the radar. As long as you take measures to assure you are not followed, you will be effectively off the grid. I have to go. I will call you late this afternoon.”
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Do not worry about that,” he said. “Worry about keeping safe. I will see you soon.”
Chapter 16
Agent Andrews was already at the safe house when Love arrived via taxi. She left her rental car at the restaurant in the event the FBI tracked it down through the rental company’s LoJack system. The safe house was a simple rambler in the Sugarland area of Houston. It was owned by a member of the Bro
therhood Protectors, who was on assignment.
Andrews saw Love walking up the steps to the door. He opened it for her. She saw that he held his pistol behind his back.
“Any chance you were followed?” he asked.
“No. How about you?” she asked.
He closed the door behind her, “No. I tossed my cell and cabbed it out here, too. Paid cash.”
She winced.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I was kicked in the ribs. I’m still sore. I’ll be okay.”
“Did Kelsey call you?”
“Yeah, he did,” Andrews said. “The rat bastard was trying to play it cool. He told me there was critical matter involving national security in Washington and demanded I return there immediately. When I pressed him for details, he got angry and informed me a car was on the way to pick me up and take me to the airport where a private plane was waiting.”
“I’m glad you didn’t go,” Love said. “You’d be dead now.”
“I owe you for the head’s up,” he added.
“And I’m only alive thanks to Rainhorse,” she said.
“Looks like the cavalry arrived just in time.”
“A cavalry of one,” she noted. “Even Rainhorse can’t possibly hold off the entire agency. You know every agent in a two-hundred-mile radius will be looking for us.”
“It’s already happening,” Andrews said. “When I was not around when the car arrived to whisk me away, they engaged a full-blown manhunt. They’re calling it ‘suspected espionage.’”
“Espionage? Jesus. How do you know that?”
“Agent Carlisle. It was the last call I took on my work cell,” he said. “She called to warn me.”
“She doesn’t believe it, does she?”
“Of course, not, but it doesn’t matter what she thinks. Our faces will be all over the news this afternoon,” Andrews said.
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Love.
“We’re here for the duration,” Andrews continued. “At least we are in a good place. Whoever put this safehouse together knew what they were doing.”
“That’s good.”
“Where’s Rainhorse?”
Love sighed, “He said he was working on something and took off. He gave me this address and his burner phone number. He said he’d be in touch.”
“Did you try calling him?”
“Three times. No answer.”
“Not surprised. Rainhorse believes phones are one way. He calls when he’s ready. Rarely, does he answer.”
“I’m damn glad he’s here,” she said.
“Me too.”
“This is some mess we’re in, huh?” she said.
“I’m sorry you were dragged into it,” he replied.
“I’m a big girl. I knew what I was getting into.”
“Why’d you do this?” Andrews asked. “You don’t know me from Adam. You just pissed away a great career.”
“I haven’t pissed away anything,” Love said. “We’re going to bring these bastards down. By the time we’re done, we may even get medals.”
Andrews smiled at his new friend. She was full of piss and vinegar, as his father always said. She was strong and didn’t know how to back down. She was becoming more and more attractive by the minute.
“Rice and Kelsey crossed the line big time,” Love continued. “They did it to protect Wounded Falcon, whatever the hell that is. Somehow, someway, we have to expose them and bring this Wounded Falcon to light.”
“What did you think of Rainhorse?”
“He’s smokin’ hot,” she said.
Andrews chuckled, “No, I mean . . .”
“He saved my life,” she interjected. “I’d be dead if not for him. I spent time with him. Everything you said about him is true.”
“Did he tell you about Wounded Falcon?” Andrews asked.
She shook her head, “No, but he knows something . . . maybe a lot. I saw it in his eyes.”
“We can’t wait to find out. We have to figure it out on our own,” Andrews began. “I think I may be onto something. Come check this out.”
Love followed Andrews into the dining room, where papers were laid out in an organized fashion.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“When I first met you, I told you about a case I was working on,” Andrews said, “Jamal Davis. Remember?”
Love nodded, “Private security guy, former agent. Killed. His family was suing the FBI in a wrongful death case?”
“Good memory,” Andrews said.
“What does it have to do with . . .?”
“I’m getting there. When I first heard the name ‘Wounded Falcon,’ I didn’t make the connection. However . . .”
He pulled one of the reports from the table and handed it to Love.
“This file has a background profile on Jamal Davis. It was missing from the electronic file. I had to go to records storage for the manual copies. Whoever deleted the electronic file didn’t go the extra step to eliminate the paper copy.”
“They figured no one would look,” Love said. “So, you found a missing file of background information someone didn’t want you to see? That’s a red flag. Anything juicy in there?
“Indeed,” he continued, pointing at the top page.
“What am I looking at?” Love asked.
“Jamal Davis was in the military before he came to the agency,” Andrews said. “He was in the 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment. They are a light infantry parachute insertion unit in the United States Army.”
“I’m not following . . .” Love began.
“Bear with me,” he said. “It gets clearer.”
“I’m all ears.”
“The 325th Airborne Infantry Regiment deploys anywhere in the world and are often used as first response to a crisis event. In January 2017, Davis’s unit was deployed to Iraq in support of ‘Operation Inherent Resolve.’ Inherent Resolve was intended to strike and eliminate the terrorist group al-Qaeda and the threat posed to Iraq.”
“Is this coming to a point?” Love asked.
Andrews pointed to a paragraph on the paper she was holding, “At one point in time, members of the 325th were called ‘Gold Falcons.’ When Davis was sent into Iraq, his unit was called ‘Task Force Falcons.”
Love looked confused, “Isn’t the name ‘Falcon’ fairly common in military lexicon?”
“Perhaps, but there’s more,” Andrews said. “While in Iraq, Davis was shot and injured badly during an engagement with al-Qaeda. In the melee Davis was trapped and captured. The army is well known for never leaving a man behind, so they brought in additional resources to rescue their . . .”
“Wounded Falcon,” Love continued.
“That’s right.”
“You think Wounded Falcon was a rescue mission?”
“Not the FBI operation, no. In fact, there is no description, no report whatsoever, that describes a rescue mission.”
“That’s odd,” Love said. “The military does like to boast about their successful rescues.”
“They do,” Andrews agreed, “and the fact that there is no mention of how Davis was rescued is a giant red flag. Something happened while Davis was in al-Qaeda custody. He got out all right, but it wasn’t the FBI or the military who rescued him. Whatever Wounded Falcon is, it has something to do with the mystery rescue.”
“I’ll admit, I’m intrigued. What else do you know about Davis?”
“Not a lot. He loved going to Las Vegas in his off time. His game was craps. He wasn’t very good at it. He racked up quite a bit of debt.”
“Could that be why he was murdered?” Love asked.
“The original detectives who investigated the murder sure thought so. They traveled down that road hard, but came up empty. I did some follow-up right away and came up empty, too.”
Love let out a breath.
“Here’s what I don’t understand. The FBI assigned you to this case. They know you are good. Why would they put you on it? If Rice didn’
t want anyone near Wounded Falcon, why didn’t they assign it to some rookie agent?”
“Good observation, and it seems that’s exactly what they tried to do,” he said. “My supervisor was Charlie Cassidy. I’ve known the man for years. He got fired right after he assigned me to the case.”
Love raised her eyebrows, “Now, that’s interesting.”
“It gets even more interesting. I called him this morning right after you left the hotel. It seems that James Kelsey called Cassidy with the assignment and asked him to put his newest agent on the job. When Cassidy asked why, Kelsey said that the assignment was purely routine and he was going through the motions to show diligence, but that the case was a dead end and he didn’t want to waste resources on it.”
“So, how’d the case get to you?”
“Cassidy is a pretty independent thinker, and there was something about the way Kelsey spoke to him that triggered his radar. He looked at the case himself and noticed the missing information about the rescue. It made him very curious. He decided there may be more than meets the eye to it.”
“So, he assigned you?”
Andrews nodded, “And he was canned the next day. I did not link the two events together right away. Cassidy had been in trouble on a few occasions for not towing the company line.”
“What else did he say?”
“Just that Kelsey was furious that I was assigned to the case. He fired Cassidy over the phone if you can imagine that, and threatened to withhold his pension if he didn’t sign a nondisclosure agreement not to talk to me or anyone else about the Davis case or his termination. Cassidy risked a lot just to tell me what he did.”
“Did Cassidy find out about Wounded Falcon?”
“No. I asked him. He’d never heard of the operation before.”
“And you believe him?”
“I do. He’s never lied to me.”
“I can’t help but feel we are scratching the surface of something big, Andrews.”
“Whatever Wounded Falcon is, Rice and Kelsey thought you and I were getting too close to it.”
“So close that they wanted us dead to stop us,” Love added. “What’s Rainhorse’s role in all this?”
“You know as much as I do.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Without reservation. And believe me, I don’t say that about many people.”
Wounded Falcon: Brotherhood Protectors World Page 10
