The Athena File

by Jennifer Haynie

  “How?” She smashed the glass onto the counter. It cracked, and she swept it onto the floor where the tile completed the destruction. “Tell me how.”

  Roy whirled on her. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

  Nicole gave him a knowing smile and lifted her chin. “That’s what I thought. Parker knew about our operations. She had to go, but there was no way to do it quietly. Bishop’s a good investigator. If it hadn’t been by ambush, we’d be walking out of here in handcuffs.”

  Roy’s shoulders sagged.

  Chalk one up for her.

  He retreated to the couch in the living area and sprawled onto the cushions as he lifted the bottle to his lips. It shook slightly.

  Leaving the broken glass, Nicole sidled over to him. She eased down beside him and ran her fingers down his arm. Muscles rippled lightly at her touch. She rested her head against his shoulder and took his hand. “We had no other way. Since Parker and Ward were apparently an item, it was only a matter of time before she squealed on us.”

  “Do you think she did?”

  “We’re still walking free, aren’t we?”

  “I’m still not—”

  “Roy, enough.” She went back to the kitchen and yanked open the door to the pantry. “I’m tired of discussing this. We had a plan. It worked.” She snatched the broom and slammed the door. “End of story.”

  She began sweeping the pieces of the wineglass into a sparkling pile. One skittered across the floor.

  “You’re right.” Gentle hands took the broom from her. “Here. Let me do that.”

  She hitched herself onto the counter, lit a cigarette, and took a drag. She blew out a steady stream. Her taut shoulders relaxed as the nicotine hit her bloodstream. She sighed, let her head hang forward, and softly groaned as tense muscles began releasing. “But you’re right to be worried. I overheard Boss Man giving orders to Ward. He’s to let Bishop investigate and isn’t supposed to be involved save for passing along information.”

  “You told me.” Roy stooped and swept the pile into a dustpan.

  “After the press conference, they were talking. Bishop found a rifle. Or at least pieces of one.”

  That earned a glance. “What?”

  “A rifle.” She inhaled and let the cigarette dangle from her fingers. “It was one of those we sold to the Taliban a few years ago. What were they thinking?”

  “They did what we asked.”

  “Oh?” She hopped off the counter and paced. “They could have taken the rifle with them when it jammed instead of leaving it.” She jabbed her cigarette into a saucer and muttered, “I thought Taliban weren’t supposed to panic.”

  Roy emptied the dustpan and returned everything to the pantry. He reached up and ran some of her hair through his fingers as his smile revealed the dimple she’d come to love over the years of their courtship. “Baby, look. They had five minutes to do the job.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because Captain Rasheed told Ward they were only five minutes away when the distress call went out. There were no survivors, including my friends. Ward thinks it was an equal opportunity killing.”

  “Then why did he bring up the rifle?”

  “Because Mark Rifles makes a ton of them and we happen to be one of their clients. All Ward has is one rifle with no serial number.” He disappeared into his thoughts. “And a whole bunch of dead people who won’t squeal.”

  Nicole scowled. If he mentioned them one more time, she’d—

  He focused on her. “From what I could see, even if Parker tried to escape, it still looks like a simple ambush.”

  “Fancy how you found out she was Ward’s girlfriend. Imagine that.” For the first time, a smile tipped her lips. Some of the worry lifted. Cause for celebration. She opened the wine fridge and chose one from among the labels.

  “Oh, I’ve got something for you.”

  “What?” She glanced up as she pulled a wine opener from a drawer.

  He grinned and held up a small package. “This came in today’s mail run courtesy of El Lobo.”

  Her pulse raced as she snatched it from him. “This is what we’ve been waiting for. Perfect timing.” Using the end of the wine opener, she ripped open the flap. She tipped it, and a small silver jump drive fell into her hand. “Close the blinds and go get my computer. Hurry!”

  She opened the bottle and poured the red wine into a fresh glass.

  Roy returned with her laptop.

  Her fingers quivered from excitement as she typed in her login password. When the home screen popped up, she slid the drive into a USB port and caught her breath. “Bingo.”

  Roy peered over her shoulder. “What is that?”

  “Something that’s going to earn us an extra bonus from our other boss.” She scanned the files and clicked on them. “But why Shamal Khan wanted these, I have no idea.” She clicked on a file. “That’s weird.”

  “What?”

  “This. A file called Athena.” She tried to open it. A password and a Top Secret declaration popped up. “I hope Shamal has the password—unless he put it in the package.”

  “He’d just unprotect it rather than do that.” Roy leaned closer. The cologne he wore tickled her nose. “Athena. You know what that is? Or who?”

  She shrugged. “Nope. It’s classified so we certainly can’t find out. How about go and stick this with the guns? We’ll get it to Shamal Khan when we make the trade in a couple of weeks.”

  As he left the room with the drive in his hand, she took a gulp of wine. A puffball of warmth spread in her stomach. She smirked. The two million in bonus money to pass along information would go far in setting her up for retirement.

  “Done.” Roy’s deep voice reached her. “And I’ve got a present for you.”

  “Huh?” Her thoughts returned to the present.

  He held a small box in front of him.

  “What is it?”

  “Open it.”

  She lifted the lid. Her cheeks warmed as she noticed the midnight blue satin and lace of a negligee. Then she saw a jump drive on top. “What’s this?”

  “While you went to work after the memorial service, I took the liberty of going through Christine’s things. I found this stuffed in the toe of one of her shoes. It’s got everything she wrote up on us. And I mean everything. The last update was yesterday morning before she left on the convoy.”

  “So she was definitely getting ready to squeal on us.”

  “Most likely when they returned. Only they never did.” He picked it up and let it dangle from its lanyard for a moment. Then he dropped it on the floor. Without hesitation, he raised his foot and brought it down hard on the fragile plastic and circuitry. The drive shattered beneath the hard sole of his boot. “Now no one will ever know. I’ll throw these out in garbage cans all over the compound. Case closed, eh?”

  He stepped close and draped the negligee across her shoulders. “I think we need to celebrate.” He raised his beer bottle in a mock toast. “To our next deal with the Taliban.”

  She clinked her wine glass against the bottle, then leaned forward and kissed him.

  As he nuzzled her neck, her thoughts began shifting.

  She smiled. “To our next deal.”

  6

  Ghazni Province

  Jonathan gripped the rail of the Juliet balcony of his room and leaned against it. The razors of the concertina wire topping the perimeter wire glinted in the late afternoon light. He stared at the distant mountains shimmering in the heat as the sun fell toward the western horizon. He barely noticed it, hardly felt the hot breeze of the fading day caressing his face. Instead, images from earlier flashed through his mind.

  The words of his speech to the remaining members of the protective detail who would escort the convoy rang in his ears. Every one of the men who had traveled to the convoy two days before had volunteered, including Cal and Roy. Four escort vehicles and four trucks bearing the caskets had rumbled through the gates, saluted by the
staff remaining behind. Along with five others, Jonathan himself had carried Christine’s casket aboard, gritting his teeth to stave off the grief. Since her funeral would be long over by the time he arrived home, it was his last chance to have one last, private moment with her. Only Jeb’s hand on his shoulder had saved him from completely crumbling.

  Now, pain distracted him. The tendons in his hands bulged from his too-tight grip on the rail. He pushed away and willed his mind to focus on other, more pleasant things—like what Bryson had told him and what he’d witnessed at the memorial service the day before.

  The image burned itself into his mind as surely as if he’d pressed a brand in his side. Nicole, Roy, Cal Bacon, and Frisco Montoya had sat together. The look on their faces? Utter boredom as if Boss Man had made them go to a library lecture rather than a memorial to lives given in service. Then Nicole’s lips had twitched in a sneer.

  What was he missing?

  He turned away from the window and approached the desk and worktable that formed an L across the half wall separating the living area from the sleeping area and the inner wall. Photographs plus printouts of Bryson’s notes and his own handwritten ones lay scattered across the top. That mess of paper told a story he didn’t want to contemplate.

  The gun he’d found? Bryson confirmed that it had misfired. It had no serial number, but it contained a key piece of evidence, a small imprint of the SecureLink logo and shipment number in the metal.

  Bryson dug some more and located altered orders and shipping manifests. Not by their Chief Weapons Officer because Jeb was a terrible liar and didn’t count any of the Gang of Four, as Jonathan had taken to calling Nicole, Roy, Cal, and Frisco, as friends. Bryson had officially cleared the CWO.

  And what about the potential of the convoy hit being a cover for murder? Jonathan shuffled through the pictures to reveal the gruesome ones of the bodies, including Christine. All had died of gunshots but her. Her killer had taken the time to remove her helmet and then loosen her hair. Bryson had theorized that she’d been singled out. Again, Jonathan recalled his argument with her the night before the hit, then the trembling smile on her lips as the convoy had left on that fateful trip.

  In his mind, it all made sense. Problem was, they had only circumstantial evidence, not solid proof.

  I’ve got to find the guns.

  He began gathering the pictures into a neat stack. Where would they hide the arms? The warehouses where they kept the weapons would be out since Jeb kept things under lock and key. The auto garage had no hiding places. The same with the gym. What about the rec hall and mess hall? Too many people were in and out of all rooms, including the basements where the HVAC units were kept. The three dormitories where the guys stayed? Too busy as well, as was the guest house where clients bunked.

  Jonathan stilled. The women’s building. A tiny smile even formed on his lips. Designed to house any single women at the compound, the building had eight bedrooms, four upstairs and four downstairs along with a large living area and kitchen. Like the other buildings, the basement had lockers for long-term storage and for any valuables. Since Christine and Nicole had been the only two occupants, they’d stored everything in the spare bedrooms and didn’t use the basement.

  This was the only plausible explanation. He locked the envelope in the safe underneath the table. He had only one option. Go and check it out.

  He logged into the server and located Nicole’s calendar. She was in a Skype session with Boss Man as well as the new CEO and CFO, who would arrive in a little under two weeks. It wouldn’t end until eight, meaning he had plenty of time to search.

  He opened the lower drawer of his desk and pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves that he normally used for spot cleaning. After stowing the pair in his jacket, he stepped onto the walkway. He jumped when Jeb opened his door.

  His neighbor grinned. “Headed to supper?”

  “Uh…” Jonathan scrambled for an answer. “Actually, I was headed over to do some work.” He offered a weak smile. “Got behind, you know.”

  “C’mon and grab some grub with us.” Jeb nodded as several others began heading down the stairs. “I’m sure you need the company. It’ll take your mind off things.”

  “I know, but I really need to get some work done.” His stomach betrayed him by rumbling loudly.

  “You sure?”

  “Uh, yeah.” His stomach growled again.

  Jeb grinned at the obvious rebellion. “How ’bout I get some chow to go for you and bring it back here? Say, I’ll be back in an hour? Growing boys need to eat, after all.”

  Jonathan chuckled, but it sounded weak to his ears. “Sure. If I’m not here, just stash it in my refrigerator.”

  “Will do. Have fun working.” He turned away. “Hey, wait for me!”

  Jonathan remained rooted to the step and watched as the small group headed across the street and between the women’s building and guest house. To create the illusion of heading to work, he followed but turned right onto the street leading toward the administration building. When he’d passed the guest house, he ducked between that and the small building where Boss Man lived with his wife, who was his administrative assistant and human resources guru. He peeked into the alley. According to the rumble of voices, everyone had gathered for the evening meal.

  At a crouch, he scurried along the dirt path to the women’s building. He stepped onto the back porch and tried the knob. Good. Like everyone else, himself included, Nicole didn’t bother to lock up. He opened the door and called, “Hello. Anyone home?”

  No one answered.

  He slipped inside and stole down the central hall toward the front. As he opened the basement door, the phone clipped to his belt rang.

  He snatched the phone and brought it to his ear. “Bryson, what is it?”

  “Good news.” Excitement hummed in his investigator’s voice. “I checked the vehicle logs. We have a pattern. When we had weapons shipments, of course Jeb always went. But Roy, Cal, or Frisco always went too.”

  “Interesting.” Jonathan’s gaze shifted from the front to back door. “I’m in the women’s building. I think Roy’s stashing the guns in the basement here because no one ever goes down there.”

  “I’ll be right over—”

  “No, no. I’ve got this.”

  “Didn’t Boss Man tell you to let me do the investigating?”

  “He did, but I’m already here. I’ve got this. Send me that info.”

  “All right.” He sounded dubious.

  “Let me do this, okay?”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” Jonathan silenced his phone and continued down the stairs.

  He pulled the cord on the overhead light. A dim glow emanated from the bare bulb.

  On one side of the basement, the air blower loomed like a prehistoric monster. It kicked on and filled the air with its loud hum. If Nicole happened to show up, he wouldn’t hear her until it was too late.

  He scanned the remainder of the basement. There they were. Small sections surrounded by chicken wire signaled the eight long-term storage areas. Inside each were large footlockers with latches on them for the storage of any valuables. None had locks on them. A good layer of dust covered all of them as if no one had bothered opening them in ages.

  He poked around the remainder of the basement. Nothing. Nothing near the HVAC unit. Nothing behind the pallets leaning against the wall. He slammed his fist into one of the pallets. They had to be here! He glanced at his watch.

  He had half an hour before the Skype session ended.

  “Think, think, think!”

  As if released from a spell, a conversation he’d had once with Christine about her housemate flitted into his mind.

  “Nicole’s not the happiest person in the world,” she’d said. “Matter of fact, she made it clear that she has domain over the bedrooms on the first floor.”

  Could she have hidden the guns there? No, that would have been too dangerous.

  Somethi
ng didn’t jive.

  He peered again at the footlockers.

  “Afghanistan is known for many things, and one of them is being dusty,” he liked to tell new recruits during their orientation session “The joke at the compound is that if you stay still for more than three minutes, you’ll have to dust yourself off.”

  Even in a basement, a good layer could accumulate in the span of a month or so. He rose, approached the first one, and touched the lid.

  The dust didn’t move.

  “That’s strange.” He got the same result on some other lids. Why?

  He pulled out his key chain. Using the tiny Mag lite on the chain, he shone it along the top. A sheen appeared, almost like someone had layered something clear on top and let the dust accumulate in it. Repeating the process would yield a perfectly disguised lid someone could open and close at will.

  He began raising the lids of each unit. Underneath the third one, the dark metal of a gun barrel gleamed in the dim light.

  “Pay dirt.”

  He shoved the lid all the way up and snapped a picture with his phone, then pulled on the gloves and reached into the bin.

  By the time he finished, he’d pulled out fifty rifles from five bins, plenty to make an exchange worthwhile. He took his time and snapped pictures of the stack. He focused on the company logo along with the numbers 12 and 13 at the other end of the barrel. He had no doubt that the number he pulled, when added to the numbers Jeb logged in, would make up the total orders Nicole filed.

  He glanced at his watch. 7:00. He had what he needed with plenty of time to spare.

  He leaned over to replace the first rifle. As he set it inside, his fingers brushed something. He gathered it in his hand. A jump drive? What was on it? And why was it so important that Roy concealed it with the rifles?

  Jonathan bit the inside of his cheek. If he hustled, he could head to his room, review the drive, and return it before Nicole finished with her Skype session. First, replacing the rifles took precedence.