by Tawny Weber
“I’d been following Bishop and knew he had met with her. I called Gopher to tell him Bishop had just left the DOJ. Dr. Sorensen had the information, and I’d intercept her when she left the building. But while we were on the phone, he bit it.”
“So you’re claiming you didn’t kill your partner?” The FBI agent asked.
Vole bristled. “Hell no! That was you murdering government thugs!”
“Sorry. But it wasn’t us,” Curt said. “We wanted him alive so we could question him and were gathering data for a warrant.”
Vole jumped to his feet, and Trina realized he’d been shackled to the floor. He couldn’t pace; he could only stand. He jolted back into his chair. “Bullshit. Since when does the government wait for a warrant? Ever since the Patriot Act—”
“Mr. Vole, you can save your speeches for your fellow cell mates. I don’t have time.” Curt leaned forward and fixed the man with a piercing stare. “We found evidence in Brian Ruby’s apartment that connects him to the bomb in Dr. Sorensen’s laptop. Can you explain that?”
Surprise hit Trina in the gut. Curt hadn’t told her that. She’d figured Ruby had to be the one, but there was some relief in knowing.
Vole flopped backward in his seat. “I want a lawyer.”
The FBI agent grinned. “Why? If it was Ruby who planted the bomb, you have nothing to lose by talking to us. He’ll take the fall, and conveniently for you, he’s dead.”
Vole wasn’t really going to fall for that was he? But he surprised Trina and leaned forward, his mouth open, as if he intended to keep talking. Then his jaw snapped shut.
Silence stretched out. Finally, the Secretary of Homeland Security said, “That was my cue,” and left the observation room. A moment later, he stepped into the interrogation room. He introduced himself to the nervous suspect and flashed a cunning smile. “We have evidence, Mr. Vole, that you published stories which seriously jeopardized national security. Furthermore, the fabrication about Somalia you intended to make public on your website could undermine US standing in the United Nations and even bring down NATO.”
The secretary’s words hung in the air, and Trina caught her breath at the enormity of the situation. If any version of what happened got out, the only way for the US to salvage their role in the UN would be for Keith to take the fall, to claim he acted on his own and the cover-up was his own. The members of his SEAL team would have to do the same. They’d all face charges of treason. Even execution.
So, yeah. When Keith said he couldn’t talk about Somalia, he’d meant it.
“Furthermore, the US could face retaliation from African nations if such a story were to come to light. For these reasons, Homeland Security and the FBI have deemed you an enemy combatant. The regular rules regarding the Fifth Amendment and Miranda rights are suspended. We can hold you indefinitely.”
Vole glared at the secretary. “This is a sham, and labeling me an enemy combatant is only going to make my fellow daylight-law activists more eager to uncover your lies. We still have freedom of the press in this country.”
“Freedom of the press?” the secretary said. “You’re going to try that angle? That won’t fly when word gets out that you actively passed classified information to a foreign spy. That’s not reporting, Mr. Vole, that’s espionage. And that’s exactly what you’ll be charged with.
“And I have good news for you. You’re about to have front-row center seats in a secret court—the very type of trial you’ve been so eager to expose to the world on your website. Perhaps after going through the process, you will finally understand the need to keep some things within the government a secret.”
“Spy? What the hell are you talking about?”
Curt slapped the surveillance camera photo on the table. “If you want to avoid Guantanamo Bay, you’d better tell me everything you know about this man right now, starting with why he made Ruby plant a bomb in Dr. Sorensen’s laptop.”
Chapter 19
Vole fell apart when Dominick threatened him with Gitmo, and the bastard started talking. Keith watched with rapt attention as Vole claimed he’d never met Ling face-to-face, but Ruby had a few times. Vole communicated with Ling via different e-mail accounts and physical drops of documents in various locations inside the Beltway.
According to Vole, the idea of planting the Somalia assignment in an NHHC historian’s computer came about after he started working on the campaign event with Dr. Hill’s assistant and the joint project between NHHC and the MacLeod-Hill Institute was mentioned several times. Vole researched the various historians and selected Walt Fryer because his clearance level was high and his pay grade even higher than that of the interim director. Because of his seniority, he had several projects that came directly from the Pentagon, bypassing Mara Garrett’s approval.
Ruby contacted Fryer ostensibly to discuss the UN coalition post-Desert Storm and used the opportunity to upload the assignment directly into Fryer’s computer. The e-mail had all the right codes; it had just never followed the expected trail from Pentagon to NHHC.
When Fryer didn’t jump on the assignment, Ruby contacted him to set up another appointment, intending to plant another e-mail to nudge him along. But he brushed off Ruby, saying Trina would handle the assignment from that point forward, that she handled all of his assignments that weren’t related to World War II.
A tap on Keith’s shoulder startled him, and he looked away from the interrogation happening on the other side of the two-way mirror and recognized the FBI analyst who had initially been assigned to work on Keith’s background check, but who was now combing through his dad’s e-mails, which they’d managed to rescue from the cloud backup of Keith’s hard drive, searching for a connection to RATinformant.
The look on the analyst’s face caused yet another wave of dread. Just when Keith thought his father couldn’t hurt him anymore, the son of a bitch found a way.
He left the observation room, following the analyst into the hall. Keith didn’t bother to waste time with pleasantries. “What did you find?”
“I’m sorry, Hatcher, but it looks like your dad is Muskrat. There was language he used in several e-mails he sent you six weeks ago that is nearly verbatim what Muskrat posted on RATinformant two weeks ago. There are too many similarities in word choices and syntax—even when the topic is different—to be a fluke. Plus the posts on the site don’t appear to be Muskrat quoting someone else. It’s the same man.”
Christ, the same method that had identified the Unabomber had caught his dad. And if Keith had bothered to read his father’s crazy e-mails or search the Internet for his ranting posts, he would have known. Maybe he even could have prevented everything that had happened. His dad had to be the one who told Vole that Owen was in rehab, and his dad knew just enough about Keith’s SEAL team to have convinced Owen’s trusting aunt to talk to Vole.
“Is he going to be arrested today?” Keith asked.
“The San Francisco special agent in charge is working on a warrant right now.”
“Let the agents who serve the warrant know he’s armed to the teeth, and he’s a crack shot. He was my first firearms instructor. I’m afraid he won’t be taken peacefully.”
The analyst nodded. “We figured that from his Muskrat posts. And with the site down, he might have guessed we’ve identified him.”
A knot clenched Keith’s gut. “Tell the SAC they need to grab him when he’s away from his stockpile of weapons. I might be able to get one of my brothers to draw him out.”
Trina stepped out of the interrogation observation room and took Keith’s hand. The analyst said he’d pass on the information and left them alone.
She gazed up at him, concern in her beautiful hazel eyes. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her to his chest and held her tight.
Trina returned to the interrogation observation room in time to witness Vole’s account of how Ruby planted the explosive in her laptop.
They planned carefully, knowing Dr. Hill’s party had the potential to
give Trina an opportunity to talk to Keith, if she hadn’t been able to chase him down already. Vole was there to orchestrate a meeting if need be. More important, once the assignment fell to Trina, Ling had been concerned her research on Somalia would be questioned—in a way it wouldn’t be if Walt had kept the assignment. The e-mails that appeared to be from the Pentagon would never hold up under deep scrutiny. Ling insisted Ruby needed to plant a virus in Trina’s computer that would destroy the NHHC e-mail server, along with a flash bomb that would destroy her computer after the virus uploaded, thus destroying the trail completely.
They determined the best time to place the explosive would be while Trina attended the party at Hill’s. Vole’s job was to call Ruby if she left early, so she wouldn’t walk in on him while he hacked her computer. From Vole’s account, it sounded as if both he and Ruby had become afraid of Ling and had come to suspect he was a spy. He knew their names and addresses, and the names and addresses of their extended family members. If they didn’t do what he wanted, he could out them as RATs at any time.
Knowing they faced charges for posting classified documents online that included the names of Syrian informants who’d provided information to the UN during their ongoing civil war, and the Syrian government had then rounded up those informants and executed them, Ruby and Vole did what Ling wanted. Ruby planted the explosive.
All had gone according to plan, except Keith’s apartment blew up instead of just Trina’s computer, and the blast had told Ruby and Vole that the explosive Ling had provided was far more powerful than simple thermite. Ruby had freaked.
Ling told Ruby the reason for the stronger explosive was to take out Walt’s computer, one cubicle over, which held the initial e-mails about Somalia, but both Ruby and Vole knew from that point forward that Ling had an objective that went a far step beyond RATinformant’s daylight-law philosophy.
Vole said Ruby considered turning himself in, but decided to meet with Trina first, hoping she could help him cut a deal with the attorney general. Except minutes before the meeting, Ling cornered him and warned him not to say anything. Then Ling set himself up in the coffee shop and monitored Ruby. Ruby’s hostility was a show to let Ling know he was toeing the line.
It appeared Ling had killed Ruby anyway, because Ruby had been prepared to turn himself in, and he was the only person who had seen Ling’s face.
Trina rubbed her temples, her head aching as she took in how thoroughly she’d been manipulated. She bumped her glasses, and for the fourth time in the last hour, the lens popped out of the cracked frame.
Beyond the two-way mirror, Curt ended the interview with Vole, then stepped into the observation area. He sent the Secretary of Homeland Security and deputy attorney general to wait in his office, then asked Trina and Keith to meet with him in the conference room where she’d interviewed Owen the previous afternoon.
They gathered in the room, and Curt’s gaze landed on Trina. She knew him well enough to see the concern in his eyes. “Trina, you’re going to have to stay at the safe house indefinitely. As long as Ling is at large, you’re in danger.”
She’d expected this, but it was frightening nonetheless. “What about Keith?”
Keith dropped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.
“Keith too.” Curt smiled. “You can stay together—but Keith, no more extracurricular ops. I’ll expect you to stay put.”
Now it was Keith’s turn to smile. He stood at attention and said a crisp, “Yes, sir.”
She laughed. Well, at least she was going into hiding with Keith. And with the right stilettos and underwear, life in the safe house could be fun. “Can I return to my place long enough to pack a bag? My glasses are broken. I need to grab another pair.” And there were those knee-high boots she’d been wanting an excuse to wear.
“Sure. I have agents there right now, so it’s safe. I just need to find someone to take you there, then deliver you to the safe house.” He fixed a gaze on Keith. “You can’t take her. I need you to talk to the SAC in San Francisco.”
“Understood. Rav called Sean in to guard Trina. He’s here now and can take her.”
Curt nodded. “Good.” Then he reached out and hugged her. “We’re going to do everything we can to round up Ling quickly. If we don’t have him in the next twenty-four hours through covert leads, we’re going public. Make no mistake, public or not, Ling currently tops the FBI’s most wanted list.”
She nodded. “Thanks, Curt.”
“I’ll give you two a moment. Keith, meet me in my office when you’re done.”
Keith nodded.
The moment Curt left, Keith opened his arms, and Trina stepped into them. He’d suffered a blow learning his dad was actively involved with RATinformant, and she ached for him.
“The only thing that’s getting me through this day is knowing you and I will be home together tonight.” He cradled her face. “I love you, Trina. I feel awful you were dragged in to this. It’s my fault you’re in danger and being forced to hide. But I’m selfishly grateful to have you.”
“If there is anyone to blame, it’s the dammed UN force commander. You did the right thing in Somalia, and you aren’t responsible for what your father has done.” She could see he wasn’t ready to relinquish guilt, but she had all the time in the world to work on that with him. She kissed him and said, “I love you, and I’m selfishly grateful to have you too.” She flashed a wicked smile. “Since I’m going home to pack, tell me, do you prefer garters or a teddy?”
“Which one of us is going to wear it?”
She choked on a laugh. “Now that you mention it…”
He kissed her, then said, “I prefer you in nothing at all and think you’re sexy in everything. Surprise me.”
She had a wide, sappy grin on her face as she and Sean set out for her apartment. It was late afternoon. Keith expected to be able to join her at the safe house in an hour or two. There were worse things than being forced to go into hiding with a hot former SEAL.
When they arrived at her apartment, the FBI agents were just packing up and leaving. They’d been looking for signs anyone besides Ruby had broken in and searched the place. Cressida had been called in to provide fingerprints for elimination purposes, and they’d contacted her boyfriend, Todd, in Tallahassee and instructed him to submit prints to the Jacksonville Field Office.
Every surface of her home was coated in black powder. Well, at least this mess wasn’t her fault. Deep down she figured the search for fingerprints was a futile effort. Ruby had worn gloves, and if Ling had been here, he’d have worn gloves as well.
A nervous ache clenched her belly. As fun as it would be to play house with Keith, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before the powers that be would determine she had to go into deep hiding, never to return to her previous life and the job that she loved?
Sean must have guessed her thoughts from the way she frowned as she took in the mess, because he said, “They’ll find him, Trina. Or they’ll find proof he fled the country.”
“I hope so.”
She grabbed a cloth and began cleaning the residue from the counter, but Sean stopped her. “We can’t stay long enough for you to clean. Pack a bag, and we’re out of here. You can hire a cleaning service to take care of the mess.”
She nodded and told herself to suck it up. Keith had lost everything when his home blew up. For her to whine about a little powder was ridiculous. She marched into her bedroom to pack. Sean followed at her heels.
He was a nice man, but having a bodyguard was stifling.
From her overstuffed closet she passed over the small overnight bag and grabbed the bigger suitcase tucked into the back. She placed it on the bed and pulled the zipper, which snagged at the second corner. With a tug, she heard a pop, and it broke free.
A hissing sound caught her attention as she flipped the top open. Sean lunged forward. “Don’t!”
The last thing she saw was the cloud of white gas that poured from the
suitcase.
Keith’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced down, and his stomach dropped. Sean had hit the panic button on his phone.
He bolted to his feet, interrupting the meeting of bigwigs he’d been silently observing. “Trina’s in trouble. Sean hit the panic button on his cell phone.” Keith’s mind was already racing. The panic button was an app signal that went out to all Raptor operatives in the area, including Rav.
Keith dialed Rav even as he walked out of Dominick’s office, abandoning the meeting. The attorney general was at his heels, his own cell phone to his ear.
Rav answered immediately. “Where is Sean?” he asked without preamble.
“He took Trina to her apartment.”
Next to him, Dominick was speaking urgently into his phone. “You left? Go back. Now. She’s in trouble.” To Keith, he said, “The agents who were searching her place had finished. They left right after Trina and Sean arrived.”
Keith made a beeline for the exit. “I’m heading over.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dominick said. He followed Keith outside to his car, making calls and giving orders as he went. “I need an emergency unit en route to Dr. Sorensen’s apartment, now! I’m riding with Hatcher, and I want full updates of all radio dispatches. I’ll keep this line open.”
Keith’s brain had switched into full combat mode as he slipped behind the wheel of his borrowed SUV. He had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t think in terms of Trina being in danger. This was an op. Every op had two objectives: take out the target, and protect his brothers-in-arms. Like every op, there was only one acceptable outcome.
Chapter 20
The first sensation Trina felt was fierce pain behind her eyes. Enough to make her want to retreat back into sleep or whatever state of consciousness she’d been in. She twitched, and the movement triggered sudden, violent nausea.
