The Shield

by Ken Fite

  Simon watched as the video was paused. He was going to ask Morgan if he wanted to see the third blast, but before he could, the man moved the mouse again and pulled the timeline back to just before the first flash happened. Simon noticed a button to the left of the timeline that would allow them to go back thirty seconds at a time. Morgan moved the mouse and clicked it and panned left. The drone wasn’t visible at all. Morgan moved to the top of the screen and clicked an option that said INFRARED, and the image on the screen became inverted. Dark became light, and light became dark. The drone was clearly visible now.

  “You got it,” said Simon.

  “Yeah, but now we need to do this backtracking thing until we see where the drones were launched from.”

  Morgan proceeded to follow the same process as before. He clicked the button to go back thirty seconds. Panned left. Clicked it again. Panned the screen. Did it yet again. Then the drone disappeared completely.

  Silence on the line. “Morgan, what happened?”

  Morgan didn’t answer. Just kept clicking and panning the screen. “Bloody hell,” he finally said.

  “What?”

  “This is going to take more time.”

  Simon was going to ask why, but decided to remain silent and watch.

  “Looks like these people had the damn thing hidden somewhere on the White House property. Who knows when they did it. Maybe to buy themselves time from people like us trying to find them.”

  Simon watched Lennox work. He went the whole way back and found nothing. But Simon had an idea.

  TWENTY-ONE

  WILLIS AND I stared at each other briefly as I let the information Chris Reed shared with us sink in. There was a little more activity out in the hallway, like maybe a meeting had ended or gone on break.

  “You’re telling us someone from the FBI took schematics from the shared drive set up with the NSA?” asked Willis.

  Chris shrugged. “We don’t know,” he said. “Mulvaney believes the breach happened on the NSA side.”

  The room went silent as I watched through the glass wall as a few people walked by the conference room. The door was shut, but I could hear muffled conversations as they passed by us. I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Chris glanced over his shoulder. One of the men out in the hallway was standing at the window, motioning for Chris to rejoin their meeting, but Chris held a hand up as if to say give me a minute .

  “Is it related to the assassination attempt?” I asked.

  Reed turned back and fixed his gaze on me and shook his head. “I don’t see how it could be.”

  “I agree,” said Willis quickly. “Something to be concerned with, sure, but most likely not related.”

  I looked away, thinking. Said nothing.

  Chris took another sip of his coffee. “Just a coincidence this is coming out right now.” He looked across at Willis. “But I agree with you. It’s concerning. And it’s something we should look into. Just not right now.”

  “I don’t like coincidences,” I said. “Chris, we need to find the people who tried to take Keller out. Anything you learn from these meetings with Mulvaney could help. Keep us updated, okay?”

  Before Chris could answer, I heard two hard knocks at the door. It pushed open and Peter Mulvaney himself stood in the doorway. “Reed, I need you back in this meeting,” he said. Chris looked at Willis. Then glanced across to me as Mulvaney stepped the whole way through and looked at each of us in turn.

  “Blake,” said Mulvaney as I stood and shook his hand. “Curt? Didn’t realize you were here, too.”

  Willis stood and shook Mulvaney’s hand. “Good to see you. Wish it was under better circumstances,” said Mulvaney.

  The FBI director dug his hands into his pockets and lowered his gaze to the floor. “Heard you were with DHS now.” Mulvaney paused briefly and glanced back up at Willis. “Glad to hear you’re back on your feet. Didn’t like the way that whole thing went down in New York. Damn shame what Keller’s doing to us.”

  Willis nodded. I thought about the shutdown as I watched the two men interacting. Mulvaney removed his hands from his pockets. Brought his left wrist up. The arm of his suit jacket moved, revealing a watch. He checked the time and nodded at Willis, then turned to Chris. “Agent Reed, we need to start back up.”

  “Director Mulvaney,” I said, “I understand your people are taking the drone wreckage down to TEDAC.”

  “They are.”

  I glanced at Willis briefly. “We need to see it,” I said.

  Mulvaney shook his head. “Nothing to see,” he said. “Just a bunch of torn-up plastic.”

  I said nothing.

  Mulvaney eyed me. “Is that why you’re here?”

  I nodded. “We need you to support Tom Parker and DHS. It feels like we’re getting the runaround.”

  “We are and we will continue to support Tom,” he said. “It’s the Secret Service who’ve been uncooperative. But I believe that’s changing after the attack on Marine One .” Mulvaney paused. “We have more pressing matters now. I’ll have Reed fill you in once we understand what we’re dealing with. You have my word.”

  Mulvaney excused himself and I watched him through the glass as he left. Chris shook Willis’s hand then turned back to me as he moved to the door. “I’ll relay any information I get if it will help you, Blake.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and a moment later, he was gone.

  “Guess we’ll let ourselves out,” said Willis.

  I nodded vaguely. We stepped out and walked back toward the elevator. Took it down to the first floor. Retrieved our weapons from security. The woman asked if we wanted to hold onto our visitor’s badges. I told her we weren’t planning on coming back. We stepped into the parking garage and climbed into Willis’s SUV. We sat there for a few minutes, thinking. Bureau vehicles passed by us urgently, either coming or going, their brakes echoing throughout the garage. Willis was on his phone texting someone.

  “I say we head back to DHS,” he said. “See how Simon and Morgan are doing with the satellite thing.”

  I turned to my left. “I thought you quit the FBI up in New York.”

  Willis held his phone tight. Glanced right. Said nothing. Just stared at me.

  “Sounded like you were fired. Is that what happened?”

  “Listen, Jordan, I don’t answer to you,” he said. “What happened to me in New York is my business.” Willis slid the phone into his jacket pocket. Started the motor and the vehicle came to life. He backed it out quick, then threw it into gear and stepped on the gas as I held onto the grab handle above me tight.

  He drove the vehicle to the security checkpoint. Barely stopped. I thought he was going to run through it. The guard nodded at us and pressed a button, and the bar lifted just as we drove underneath the thing.

  I knew I’d struck a nerve. And I knew exactly how he felt. “I was fired once, too,” I said. “From DDC, back in Chicago.”

  Willis said nothing. Just kept on driving and turned his interior police lights on as we moved. The streetlights lit the car at a rapid clip as we passed them. Everything else was dark except for headlights from the occasional vehicle driving toward us from the opposite direction.

  “It was wrong,” I added. “I saved the president’s life. Found him when nobody else could. I lost my job because of it.”

  “You lost your job because you didn’t stay in your lane,” he said.

  I glanced left. Willis took a sharp turn, and I felt my body move up against the door as he navigated it. I moved my gaze straight ahead and stared at the road. “Well, you’re in good hands with Tom Parker.”

  He nodded at the wheel. I decided to drop it. You can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. Thirty seconds later, my cell phone buzzed inside my pocket. Willis watched as I dug it out and answered. “This is Jordan,” I said and put the call on speakerphone.

  “It’s me,” said Morgan. “I have Simon on the line with me. We’ve spent the last few minutes trying to identify
the source of the drones using the infrared satellite. We looked at aerial footage from when the first strike happened over the East Wing of the White House.” Morgan paused. Something was wrong. “They were launched from the White House lawn. They were planted well before tonight. Not sure when.”

  “Parker know?” Willis asked from the wheel.

  “Yes, but listen,” said Morgan. “We ran the tape back to see when the drones were placed on the lawn. We went back as far as it would go. The satellite only retains forty-eight hours’ worth of footage. We went through the whole bloody thing. No use. The drones must’ve been planted there well before two days ago.”

  “So what are you saying?” I asked.

  “We aren’t able to track down who launched the drones that struck the White House. But Simon had an idea. He suggested we try the second strike. The one against Marine One that happened afterward.” Morgan paused.

  Willis and I said nothing.

  “So we followed the same process with the second strike, mate. We ran the tape back from the area over the Treasury Building. Guys, we think we found the launch site.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  WILLIS DROVE ON as I held onto my phone and Morgan let Simon explain the whole thing to us. About how he’d suggested they try tracking the drone based on the second attack, the one against Marine One as it passed by the Treasury Building. How Morgan had repeated the same process he’d tried minutes earlier. This time it had worked. They were able to find the launch site of the drone that took down one of the decoy helicopters. Simon and Morgan traced it back to a government contractor in a nearby office park.

  “Why’d they hide the others on the lawn and fly that one from the building?” asked Willis.

  “Don’t know, mate,” answered Morgan. “Maybe they were trying to throw off people like us.”

  “Or they were forced to,” I said.

  Willis stared at me. Silence from Morgan and Simon on the phone.

  “Maybe whatever they were trying to accomplish with the first strike didn’t work, so they had no choice.”

  “And what were they trying to do?” asked Willis.

  I shrugged.

  He turned back and looked at the road. “There’s nothing in the East Wing. That part of the White House is usually used by the First Lady, but she’s been dead a long time.”

  I glanced to my left. Felt my blood start to boil because of the way he said it. I knew Margaret Keller. A family friend, like James Keller himself. A flood of memories rushed over me as Willis turned to me again. “Just saying, there’s nothing there. They should’ve attacked the residence.”

  I just stared at him. Said nothing.

  “We’ve got the address,” said Simon from the phone.

  “Send it. We’ll head over there now,” I said.

  A few seconds later, I saw a text message come through. It was Morgan with the address. I clicked on it with my thumb, and my phone navigated us to the location of the building. Willis was on his phone again. Looked like maybe he’d been waiting to get the address until he realized Morgan had sent it to me instead.

  “Done,” said Morgan. “But I think we have a problem.”

  “What kind of problem?” asked Willis.

  “About the building. We used the infrared satellite to track the drone back in time to the location you guys are driving to now.” Morgan paused. “Just now, I flipped it to live. It’s picking up a heat signature inside.”

  “How many hostiles?” asked Willis as my phone’s maps application said to turn left and Willis obeyed.

  “I only see one…if there were others, they’re gone now,” said Morgan as Willis made an unexpected turn.

  “Curt, the navigation wanted us to go straight,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Faster this way,” he replied. “Plus, I don’t want them getting out on the main road.”

  “Want me to check the history?” asked Morgan. “See if there was anybody who left the building recently?”

  “No,” said Willis. “Focus on what’s happening live. We’ll be there shortly. If there was anybody else leaving the building, they’d most likely use side roads. This way, we’ll see them on the road as we make our approach.”

  I said nothing.

  He glanced over to me and stared. “You got a problem with that, Jordan?”

  I shook my head. “You’re in charge.”

  He faced forward. Morgan told Willis he was right and said he would pan the satellite out a bit to compensate for the adjustment, but when he did, Morgan said he didn’t see any other vehicles out on the road driving anywhere close to us.

  “You’re coming up on it now,” said Simon from the phone two minutes later as we entered the office park.

  Willis killed the headlights and stopped just south of the building. Streetlights cast an orange glow against the sidewalk and the front of the building. Willis parked the SUV. There were no cars in the adjacent lots.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked, thinking about the hostile inside who Morgan had detected with the infrared.

  Willis stared at the building for a second; then he pointed at the glove compartment. “Grab a couple of Bluetooth earpieces in there,” he said. “Simon, I need you to conference this call into my cell.” Simon worked as I found the two earpieces. We put them in. Willis’s phone rang and he joined the call. We made sure we could hear each other. Then Willis pointed. “Take the front, I’ve got the back.”

  I nodded. Reached for my weapon. Checked the magazine and the chamber out of habit. Pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold. Willis did the same. I could hear him breathing and Morgan and Simon typing in my earpiece. Willis stepped around the SUV. He drew his weapon and we started moving.

  “Simon, are you seeing this?” asked Morgan.

  “Yeah, but I don’t understand it,” came the response from Simon.

  I watched as Willis disappeared around the side, headed to the back of the building. I moved to the door. “Morgan, what is it?” I asked as I jogged up to it with my weapon aimed at the ground.

  “I was positive there was someone inside the building,” he said as I got to the door and put my back against an adjacent wall and gripped my weapon tight. “It was somewhere near the center of the building. Looked like they were sitting, maybe. But it’s not there anymore. The signal was weak and now it’s gone.”

  “Did he get away?” asked Willis in my earpiece.

  “No,” answered Morgan. “It just faded and disappeared. I don’t know what happened.”

  “Let’s find out,” said Willis. “Jordan, you ready?”

  I told him that I was.

  “On my mark.” He paused. “Now .”

  I turned and aimed my Glock at the door. Placed the muzzle against where I thought the locking mechanism should be. Squeezed the trigger twice. The sound from the gunshots echoed behind me, bouncing off the office buildings across the street. I heard more gunshots from Willis at the rear. Imagined him doing the same thing. The door opened slightly. I kept one hand on my weapon and pulled the door the whole way open. Then I heard an alarm go off. It wasn’t loud. Just a constant, pulsating tone.

  “Front is clear,” I said into my earpiece as I stepped inside with my Glock leading the way and saw no one.

  “Copy,” said Willis as I continued to move. “Back is clear,” he added as I passed through a reception area.

  “Keep moving toward each other,” said Morgan. “Center of the building. That’s where I saw the hostile.”

  “Copy,” Willis said again. I said nothing. Just scanned left to right, my eyes moving everywhere, waiting for someone to step out and surprise me. But nobody did. There was an office to the right of me. I went inside to check it out. Saw no one. I came back out. Navigated a hallway. Stepped around a corner and saw Willis across the room. We lowered our weapons as we understood what Morgan had seen on the infrared.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I STEPPED FORWARD and kept my Glock aimed down at the floor in
front of me. Willis moved as well and met me at the front of a large room. I removed a hand from my weapon and placed two fingers on the neck of the man slumped over a laptop. Blood was pooling around him. Willis looked at me. I shook my head. No pulse . There was a gun on the floor in front of the man. Willis moved quietly and kicked it away.

  “What is it?” asked Morgan from my earpiece.

  “Wait,” I said in a low voice.

  Willis motioned for me to check the hallway on my right. He moved to the left and did the same. We both came out a minute later after clearing the rest of the building and confirming that nobody else was inside.

  “We found a body,” said Willis. I watched as he holstered his weapon and grabbed the man’s hair and lifted his head, then took his phone and snapped a picture. “Simon, I’m sending you the image. ID him.”

  “You think he shot himself?” I asked.

  Willis nodded confidently and pointed to the back of his head. There was clearly a wound visible.

  I looked at the gun on the floor nearby. “Why would he do that?” I pressed.

  He shrugged. Said nothing. Just kept his eyes on his phone as he worked on sending the image to Simon.

  I stuffed my weapon into my holster. Looked around and took in the room. Four large screens spanned the length of the wall directly in front of us. Two stacked on top of another set of two. Nothing was being displayed. Just a message saying it was searching for a signal. I turned and scanned the rest of the room. There was an alcove off to the side. I went to it. Saw a mixing board and understood this was where the audio and video were handled. Turned and walked back to the body. Saw an outlet underneath his chair.

  “Looks like he was controlling the drones from here,” I said.

  Willis nodded his agreement and checked the dead guy’s pockets.

  I glanced at the large screens briefly as I started pacing the room, thinking. “Something’s not right,” I said. “How could he do all of this by himself? He had to have had help from someone close to the president.”