by David Spell
She’s got ice water in her veins, Aaron thought, impressed with her acting skills. I would’ve never picked her for a traitor. I guess that explains the cold shoulder. That’s OK, Jennifer. I still have something for you, he laughed to himself.
“Team leader to all units,” Richards transmitted to his team, “I’m moving in. You guys are my eyes and ears. Let me know if anyone approaches.”
After hearing everyone acknowledge his transmission, the agent pulled on a pair of latex gloves, exited his vehicle, and approached the residence. No one appeared to be home in the main house on the lower level and thankfully, no neighbors were outside. The last thing Aaron needed was for someone to call the police on them.
He quietly climbed the outside stairs to Hughes’ apartment and listened for a moment at the front door. After confirming that it was locked, he pulled his lock picks out. Richards was inside in less than a minute. He paused, listening for the beeping of an alarm about to go off. The agent was pleasantly surprised to find that Jennifer did not have an alarm system. He drew a suppressed 9mm Sig Sauer and quickly cleared the small home, which consisted of a living room, a bedroom, a bathroom, and a tiny kitchen.
After confirming that the apartment was empty, Aaron let his team know he was inside and that their target was not there. He began his search, looking for anything that might lead them to Hughes. He took his time in her bedroom, especially enjoying his search of her underwear drawer, examining each item, even rubbing some of the softer ones against his face. After a few minutes, the CIA agent got to work, tearing the apartment apart.
Fifteen minutes later, Richards paused, a sense of frustration sweeping over him. There was nothing here to show where the rogue agent might be hiding or to confirm that she was a traitor. He grabbed her laptop and cell phone, making one last sweep of the small apartment. Maybe there were some clues on her electronics. Aaron let himself out and the team leader and his companions were soon on their way back to CIA HQ.
Thirty miles away in Century Tactical’s offices, Jennifer Hughes stared at the screen of her computer, watching Aaron Richards digging through her apartment. She had been especially disgusted, knowing he had handled all of her under garments. What a sick bastard, she thought angrily.
While she did not have a traditional alarm system, she did have motion-activated cameras hidden throughout her apartment. The cameras had silently started recording as soon as Aaron had entered the apartment. The video was recorded and stored, with Jen receiving a text and email alert to the intrusion. Richards had her phone but couldn’t activate it. Of course, one of the tech wizards at the Agency would break into it and find that she had been notified.
At least now she knew. They were coming after her. The silenced pistol in Aaron’s hand meant that lethal force had been authorized. They had her phone and computer but there was nothing there to lead them to her. She felt safe for the moment, but wasn’t sure how long it would last. Ms. Dunning needed to see this video, she realized, picking up her laptop and heading for her former boss’ office.
The two women had just finished reviewing the surveillance video from Jennifer’s residence when Perkins poked his head into Sandra’s office.
“They’re back. I’ll be outside if you need me. They’ll just be picking up their vehicles and heading home. We can debrief them tomorrow.”
“We’ll come with you,” Dunning called after him, excitement in her voice, and rolling herself out from behind her desk. She suddenly stopped, looking at Hughes.
“Jen, please don’t ask Shaun or any of the others where they were. There are some things going on here that we can’t talk about. You understand operational security and I apologize for keeping you in the dark.”
The young woman nodded, not understanding why a LE and military training company would even have phrases like ‘operational security’ in their vocabulary. At the moment, however, she could live with not having all the answers, especially since she finally got to see Shaun.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered following the older woman down the hallway to a back entrance. A wheelchair accessible ramp led down to the rear parking area where Taylor and many of Hughes’ friends were climbing out of a passenger van and stretching.
The team immediately began unloading, pulling weapons-length bags from the interior and carrying them to their personal vehicles. The general stood with Mr. McCain and Colonel Clark, the three men smiling as they spoke quietly. Shaun and Sam were chatting at the rear of the van and the older man smacked the younger man on the shoulder, grinning as Taylor spoke.
In mid-conversation, Shaun glanced over and saw Jennifer rolling Ms. Dunning down the ramp. He rushed over and grabbed Jen just as she reached the parking lot, embracing her in a tight hug.
“It’s so good to see you! I’m glad you’re OK.”
Now that she was on a flat surface, Sandra pushed herself over to where Wallace, Chuck, and Kevin were, giving the young couple some privacy. Before she could stop herself, Jennifer found herself crying again, holding Shaun tightly. After a minute, she pulled back trying to laugh.
“Your turn to hold me while I cry,” she said, wiping her eyes.
Instead of answering, Shaun leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her again.
“That’s what friends are for,” he whispered in her ear when they came up for air.
“Come on. I know you want to see everyone,” Taylor said, leading Hughes towards the van. “But, Jen, we can’t talk about where we were.”
“I know. Ms. Dunning told me that I shouldn’t ask any questions.”
The young man nodded, guiding her to where the rest of the team stood in a circle preparing to head for their own homes, everyone clearly exhausted. At the sight of Jennifer, though, everyone perked up, thrilled to see their former colleague.
Reston, Virginia, Friday, 0902 hours
Chuck and Elizabeth were finishing a late breakfast when his phone vibrated with a text from Kevin.
“Turn on the news.”
McCain quickly pushed the power button on the remote and was greeted by a male reporter standing in front of the United States Federal Courthouse in Houston.
“The details are sketchy. We were sent a press release just an hour ago from the FBI alerting us that the notorious New Generation Cartel leader, Vincente Villarreal, was in custody and would be arraigned this morning. Villarreal is wanted in the United States for everything from murder to human trafficking to narcotics distribution. We’ve been told that it’s a closed hearing due to security concerns but we’ve also been promised a press conference by a Bureau spokesperson after the arraignment.”
Back in the studio, the anchor nodded. “Thanks for that update, Jack. Is there any speculation on how the FBI arrested this cartel leader? It’s not like they could’ve just marched into Mexico to get him.”
“That’s very true, Stuart. The Bureau is being very tight-lipped about this. One of my sources, speaking on the condition of complete anonymity, of course, told me that he had heard that another cartel had handed him over to the Americans. I find that a little hard to believe because the gangs typically deal with rivals in much more violent ways. Another source told me that the CIA may have had a hand in this.
“Just before going on the air, I called an affiliate in Matamoros, the city where the New Generation Cartel is based. The reporter I spoke with let me know that they are still trying to wrap their heads around the situation, as well. She said that Tuesday night/Wednesday morning they had reports of explosions all around the city.
“That same reporter told me that there was also a major gunfight at a large warehouse in the center of town which the cartel allegedly uses as their base in Matamoros. Police found fifteen dead and seven wounded. At the same time, another location was targeted outside of town. This time, a large mansion purportedly belonging to Villarreal was attacked and burned to the ground. Police discovered another seventeen bodies there. The authorities confirmed to my reporter friend that they s
uspect this is the beginning of a gang war. Hopefully, the FBI press conference will provide us with some answers.”
“This is certainly shaping up to be an interesting news day, Jack,” Stuart commented. “We’ll check back in a little while.”
“Was that you guys?” Beth asked, feeding Ray some oatmeal, more ending up on his face and bib than inside the toddler.
Chuck nodded, sipping his coffee.
“Everything went according to plan and we got our man.”
“Y’all killed over thirty people?” she asked, shaking her head.
“Yeah, if you classify cartel soldiers as people.”
Beth nodded but he could still see the fear in her eyes. She knew what he did was dangerous, but seeing it spoken of on the national news really brought it home. The big man reached out, touching his wife’s arm.
“I’m sorry to put you through this. We’re not doing that again. I think we hit them hard enough that they’ll leave us alone for a while. I hope so, anyway.”
She looked away, wiping the baby’s face. He knew she was still upset.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he said, knowing how much she liked to go out.
“Oh yeah? I know what you’re doing,” she said, a reluctant smile creeping across her face.
“What am I doing?” he asked, innocently.
“You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to make me forget about you going off and doing some really dangerous stuff.”
Chuck shrugged. “Maybe a little. But I do have something that you’re going to enjoy.”
Her smile always melted him. “What is it?”
“We’re having a company dinner next week Saturday at the general’s farm out in Winchester. He’s having it catered and it’ll be a lot of fun. You’ll enjoy meeting him and his wife, Mabel. She’s a sweetheart.”
“That sounds nice, but what about Ray?”
“Mabel told me that we had to bring him and that she’d love to help you keep up with him so you can mingle.”
“Wow! Really? That’s so nice! She sounds like a sweet lady.”
“She is. I don’t think she and the general ever had any kids of their own, so maybe as we get to know them, she can be a surrogate grandmother for our little guy. Let me know when you want to go shopping for a new outfit and get your hair and nails done. I’ll coordinate my schedule to watch Ray.”
Beth’s eyes lit up. “You know all the right things to say,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA, SUNDAY, 1515 hours
Thomas Burns glanced around as he backed out of Sandra Dunning’s driveway, his mind racing. A few houses up, a nondescript white minivan with dark windows sat with a view of the former CIA official’s house. As he drove by, he attempted to peer into the windows, the heavy tint preventing him from seeing anything. A half mile further up the street an extended cab Dodge Ram pickup raced by, heading in the opposite direction. Thomas thought he recognized Scotty Smith driving and another of McCain’s men in the passenger seat.
He grabbed his cell phone, pulling up Digital Forensic Tech Maggie O’Brien. She answered on the second ring.
“This is Maggie.”
“Hi Maggie. This is Burns. Sorry to bother you on Sunday but I need you to meet me at HQ ASAP. We’ve just got a major break in that case that you’re helping us with.”
Thomas was careful not to say too much over the phone, not knowing who might be listening in. There was a pause on the other end of the line.
“This must be important.”
“It is. I’ll explain when I see you. Thanks, Maggie.”
“Got it, sir. See you in a few.”
The FBI agent’s next call was to Special Agent Valerie Morris. She was in the middle of her son’s birthday party, the sound of laughing and screaming children carrying through the phone. Morris asked if this could wait until the next day.
“No, but can you meet me by 1700? Will the party be over by then?”
A sigh of resignation came over the line. “Yeah, sure, boss, thanks. That’ll give me enough time to wrap things up here. I’ll be there.”
Burns glanced into the rearview mirror scanning the cars behind him. None of them stood out, he thought. Maybe Fleming was just overreacting. The closer he got to downtown DC, though, he picked out a black SUV staying several car lengths back, keeping pace with him. Okay, this is about to get real.
He thought about requesting backup but the tail stayed well behind him, apparently content on just observing. He wondered about the van on Sandra’s street. He didn’t know who was inside but if the occupants thought they were going to hurt Dunning or Hughes, they were sorely mistaken. Fleming, Gray, and Taylor were waiting inside the house, with Smith and another shooter heading that way. Burns had seen McCain’s people in action before and knew that Sandra and Jennifer had nothing to worry about.
It was just a twenty-minute drive from Sandra’s house to the FBI building, and he thought about the meeting that he had just left. She had called him that morning asking him to come over to discuss something important. When he arrived, Thomas had been surprised to discover a living room full of people after Andy Fleming had let him in. The former MARSOC operator had on his full kit, minus the helmet, his rifle draped across his chest.
“Agent Burns, thanks for coming.”
“Hey, Fleming. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“We’re all taking turns protecting Sandra and Jennifer until this thing gets resolved,” he said, taking a position by the large reinforced bay windows, allowing the former Marine to watch the front of the house and the street.
In the living room, a young woman sat in a leather armchair next to Dunning’s wheelchair. Shaun Taylor sat in a matching armchair on the other side of Sandra. Eric Gray stuck his head in from the dining room. Gray was also wearing body armor and holding a rifle.
“I’m gonna watch the back while they talk,” Eric told Andy.
Taylor vacated his chair, nodding at the FBI agent, moving over to the front windows to help Fleming, the young man’s holstered Glock clearly visible.
“Hi, Thomas,” Sandra greeted him. “Thanks for coming over. Please come sit here by me.”
He took the empty seat, still wondering what was going on.
“I’d like you to meet Jennifer Hughes.”
Jennifer gave the FBI agent a nervous smile. Thomas nodded at her.
“She has a very interesting story that you’re going to want to hear. Go ahead, Jen. Tell Agent Burns who you work for and what you did last week.”
The FBI agent had been mesmerized by the beautiful woman’s recounting of her job with the CIA, how she had worked directly for Colonel Clark before he had been forced to resign, and about the mission she had undertaken the previous week under the orders of both Maxwell Sterling and Vijay Sable. When she described what she had found in Alfie Nicholson’s safe, Burns felt a surge of hope. Maybe they would be able to take Sterling down after all.
“So, do we have any idea what’s on those hard drives or memory disks?”
Dunning nodded, a grin breaking out on her face.
“As a matter of fact, yes, we do. The first hard drive has some very interesting people doing some very bad things with young girls. We’ve got a Supreme Court justice, the former Attorney General, four big-name actors, and assorted politicians.
“The second one is more of the same, except one of the movie stars is our favorite CIA Director. The memory disks are packed with stills pulled from the video and some copies of Nicholson’s financial ledger. He did OK for himself pimping out young girls. Can you hit play, Jennifer?”
Thomas hadn’t even noticed the laptop attached to Dunning’s large screen television. When Hughes pushed play, a laughing and probably drunk Maxwell Sterling was lounging with Alfie Nicholson next to the producer’s swimming pool on his private island.
“This is a really nice place, Alfie. Thanks for the invite.”
<
br /> “Glad you could make it, Max. What do you think of my staff?” Nicholson asked with a laugh, motioning at several bikini-clad young girls in or around the pool.
“Gorgeous, buddy. They’re all so gorgeous.”
“Well, you get your pick. See anyone that particularly catches your eye?”
“Oh, yeah. That little hottie wearing the pink bikini and the one next to her, the one in the black.”
“Nice. Very good choices, Max,” Alfie said, approvingly. “Anna is twelve and Isabella is thirteen.”
“Perfect! And I can have both of them?”
“Of course. Just remember, anything goes in the bedroom except violence. I’ve got a lot invested in these girls. Enjoy them, but be nice.”
“Sure, Alfie, I’m a gentleman,” Sterling slurred.
As the video ended, Andy spoke over his shoulder, “Eric, we may have a problem.”
Gray joined he and Taylor, standing to the side of one of the windows. Fleming pointed up the street.
“That blacked out mini-van pulled up and parked a couple of minutes ago. Call the standby team and get them in motion.”
Eric disappeared back into the kitchen, dialing his phone as he walked. A moment later, he could be heard speaking quietly from the other room.
“Are we OK, Andy?” Sandra asked, concern in her voice.
“I’m not sure, ma’am. A van pulled up a few minutes ago and parked two houses up, but no one has gotten out of it. You guys finish briefing Agent Burns. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Sandra nodded at Jennifer who clicked on another file, starting a second video.
“You’ve seen this one before,” Sandra told Thomas, “but this file has an extra twenty minutes of Sterling violating the two girls. If it’s OK, we’ll fast forward to the last five minutes or so.”
