by Brad Taylor
He made fun of our relationship just because he could, but he was coming to grips with the new normal, meaning I was capable of making decisions despite my feelings for Jennifer. Or more precisely, because of my connection to her.
Anyway, it wasn’t like we’d had the chance to use the damn room. The team had staked out the two food vendors soon after boarding, and nothing had happened for the duration of the trip. I had become convinced we left Guy on Crete.
I came fully awake and said, “Who’s texting? Veep or Koko?”
“Koko. Runaway is in the room.”
We’d been on the damn boat for close to twelve hours, with Veep outside freezing his ass off, and Jennifer and Brett acting like the other folks who were too cheap to buy a room, hanging out in the cafeteria instead of the cattle call of the seats crammed together in the coach section.
We’d relied on text messages because we knew that Runaway would recognize the Taskforce Bluetooth earpieces we all used. It made the contact slow, but it was better than the guy seeing the clues and fleeing.
I picked up my phone. The text read, Runaway here. Buying coffee.
I texted back. Atmospherics?
Good. Not a lot of people around. Let him take a seat.
I looked at Knuckles, feeling the adrenaline. Knowing that the next few steps would be crucial. I texted back. Give me a lock-on when he sits down.
Roger.
We waited, staring at the phone. Wanting a good end. Wanting this decision to be one of the good ones. Like every mission, I was thrown a curveball. The phone vibrated with: He’s walking to us. Straight at us.
I waited a moment, then, when nothing else came in, I texted, What the hell does that mean?
My phone rang with a verbal call.
I looked at Knuckles and he shrugged. I answered, and heard “Pike, I’m here with Guy. He’d like to talk.”
I took that in, and like a high school cheerleader whispering about a date, I said, “Can he hear me?”
“No.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Get up here. I’m with him now.”
We moved out, Knuckles in the lead. Going up the gangway, he said, “What’s the call with this? What do you want to do?”
“Same as before. We wanted to isolate him and talk. He beat us to the punch, but it’s still the same game.”
We entered the deck and I found Jennifer at a table toward the rear, looking concerned. Brett was next to her, a little smile on his face and his hand at the small of his back, telling me he was ready to draw, if necessary. I’m not sure anything would cause his blood pressure to rise.
I saw the back of Guy’s head. When Jennifer focused on us, he turned around, and I was shocked at his appearance. He looked like a cancer patient, drawn and papery. Like something was eating him from the inside out.
I walked up with a confident swagger and said, “Hey, Guy, guess you found us out.”
He stood, and I saw a dislocation. A feral projection that told me he wasn’t whole. A projection I’d seen before. Looking in the mirror during the bad days.
He was being torn apart.
He said, “Hey, Pike. I’m glad it was you. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk to anyone in the Taskforce, but you’re the best choice. You know what I’m doing. You understand.”
Not a good way to start.
He continued, “I have information on a potential attack. I’m following a lead. I’m doing what’s right.”
He was staring at me with a weird glow, and I knew he was sliding over the edge. I had no idea what he’d done, but I knew it wasn’t good. All that remained was pulling him back up.
I shook his hand and said, “Guy, good to see you. Kurt asked me to find you.”
I saw his eyes narrow, reevaluating. We sat down.
He said, “Yeah, yeah. I knew you’d be coming, but, fuck, I never thought you’d get to me this fast.”
I gave him an easy smile, trying to reconcile in my mind what I was seeing in the flesh. Nobody around us could recognize it, but I was looking at disaster. The man was a caricature of his former self.
I saw Knuckles’s face, and realized I was wrong. Some others could recognize it as well.
47
He went between Knuckles and me, ignoring Brett and Jennifer for the men he knew. He said, “I understand you want to bring me home. I get that. But did you hear what I said about a potential attack? I think we’re missing something.”
By his saying “we’re,” I got a handle. He believed I was with him. He believed I was in his family, which could prove all the difference.
I said, “Okay, Guy. I’ll hear you out. What do you have?”
He pulled out a cheap digital camera and turned it on, flipping to a picture of a thin, swarthy youth of about twenty, with a scrub beard. Not one from the target package. He said, “This man. He’s doing something against American interests, and it’s tied to those fucks from Qatar. The ones who killed my brother.”
He told me the story of tracking one of the faces on the target package, watching the linkup, then switching to the unknown. He ended with email intercept and the trail from the ferry to the café. The story had definite spikes of suspicious behavior, with the bank money and identification, but he’d glossed over something pretty significant.
I said, “What happened to the first guy. Nassir, was it? Where is he?”
I saw the weird glow again, and he said, “He’s where he should be. He admitted to killing my brother.”
Everyone mentally flinched at the words. We’d hoped we could interdict him before he did something awful, but we’d clearly failed. Softly, barely above a whisper, I said, “What about the man in Key West?”
He just looked at me. No questions in his eyes. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
I said, “Guy, you can’t do this. Come with us. Let me take you home.”
He said, “Did you even hear what I said? There’s an attack being planned. This isn’t about my brother anymore.”
“Yes, it is. Come home with us and let me bring it up to the Oversight Council. This isn’t the way.”
I saw the blossom of anger, and knew I was losing. I needed to bring him in of his own volition, not forcibly. I had enough people with me to prevent any damage, but I couldn’t hog-tie him here, in the middle of the deck.
He said, “Really? Is that what you said in Istanbul? When Decoy was killed?”
“Don’t make this about me.”
He scoffed and said, “Yeah. Right. You went on a rampage, killing anyone who’d been involved in that operation. You did it against orders. You did it. And now I’m the murderer?”
What he said was true, and it was unsettling to hear Kurt’s fears borne out by a man I’d been ordered to bring home. I said, “We stopped a nuclear device from killing thousands.”
He leaned forward. “And that’s what I’m doing as well. You went after the Russians because they killed Decoy—I would have too—and in your path of destruction, you found a threat. I’m doing the same thing. I have done the same thing. Help me here.”
I glanced at Knuckles, and Guy caught the look. He followed the gaze, talking to my second-in-command. “Don’t you go all high-and-mighty on me too. I know what happened. I know what you asked Pike to do. You begged him to kill every one of those sorry sons of bitches involved in Decoy’s death.”
He returned to me, the heat radiating out of his eyes. “And you did.”
I said, “Guy, don’t twist this into situational ethics. That mission has nothing in common with what you’re doing. The two are not the same, and you can’t justify the one by talking about the other. Don’t even go there.”
He leaned back into the cushions of his chair. He studied me for a moment, then said, “So that’s how it is. You kill whenever it suits you, but you’
re still on a leash for fucks who have no idea what we do. They say jump, and you do.”
“What the hell are you talking about? You can’t go around killing just because you think it’s right.”
“But it’s okay when you do it.”
“That’s not what I mean. I listen to the Council. They exist for a reason. It’s not about a vendetta. It’s about national security.”
The words sounded hollow even before they left my mouth. He was right about everything he’d said, and my actions in Istanbul were proving Kurt correct on the dangers of the Taskforce.
He said, “Think about it. We get Omega authority from the Council, and it’s game on, our consciences salved by some fat fuck with a pen. How many times have you been denied Omega because of some overarching political bullshit? Not because the target wasn’t worthy? So by a stroke of a pen, we can take a guy out, but without that blessing, we’re murderers? Based on some political crap that has nothing to do with the target? How is that right?”
I felt the gap growing between us, his earlier hope at seeing me slipping away. I tried to stop the slide. “I hear you. I really do, but we live in a land of laws. We can’t just decide when or what law we’re going to follow, and sometimes that ‘political crap’ proves more important. It’s imperfect, but it’s the best system in the world.”
The statement fell flat on him. I tried again, “Tell me about the target you’ve found. What do you have for an anchor? Maybe I can get the Oversight Council to let me loose on it.”
He said nothing for a moment, and I saw I’d lost. When he did speak, it was exactly what I didn’t want to hear. “Pike, I respect you. But we both know what you say isn’t true. They won’t let you chase it. Not with me running loose, and I’m not coming in until the mission is done. If I give you the information, all I’m doing is giving you the ability to interdict me.”
The people around us began to rise, and I realized we had docked. I was running out of time. Guy stood up. He looked at Jennifer and said, “Thank you for what you did for Decoy.”
He came back to me. “And thank you for hunting down the rest of the vermin that killed him. I’m going to do the same, for my brother. For his men.”
I grabbed his arm, and he let me. He said, “Are you going to take me down right here? How is that going to be explained, when I start screaming about top secret commandos out to kill me? You think the police will just let us go without any answers?”
I said, “You wouldn’t. You aren’t that far gone.”
He pulled his arm away and said, “I will, because I haven’t lost view of what’s right.”
I remained seated, wondering how I’d let this get out of control. I said, “You can’t continue. I know the name you’re using. We’ll find you. Do you think Sean Parnell would approve of you making him a murderer?”
He paused for a moment, then shouldered his pack and said, “I’m going to walk right off this ferry. It goes without saying that if I see you or this team again, I’ll know why you’re there. I’ll start shooting and consider it self-defense.”
Knuckles spoke for the first time, saying, “Decoy wouldn’t want this. You’re spitting on his legacy. What he believed in.”
He said, “Not true. Decoy would have done the same if the roles had been reversed and you’d been murdered. And I know my brother doesn’t mind what I’m doing now.”
He entered the flow of people leaving the ferry, and we simply sat, watching him disappear into the crowd of people.
48
Perched on a couch inside the Oval Office, Kurt Hale waited patiently for President Warren to finish toying with his iPad. To his left, George Wolffe provided some much-needed moral support. Across from him sat Alexander Palmer, the national security advisor and an unknown vote in the room. Nobody else was present. No other Oversight Council personnel had been invited, and Kurt intended to use that to his advantage.
He was here ostensibly to discuss manning issues, and thus the full Council wasn’t necessary, but he also had some explosive information that he wanted to present one-on-one to the president, getting a read on his mind-set before throwing the stinking carcass onto the briefing table for the full Oversight Council.
It was not how the Council was designed to be used, and in fact was counter to the charter under which the Taskforce operated, but Kurt had done it in the past for sensitive operations, and this one was most definitely sensitive.
The president finally looked up and said, “Where were we? You said you had a solution for the Blaine dilemma? You have someone else in mind?”
Kurt glanced at George, then said, “No, sir. I want to keep Blaine. I want him to go ahead and SERB out, as if he was forced to retire, then hire him on as a contractor.”
Palmer said, “I thought you’d already discarded that idea. We’re going backward here. When we last spoke, we agreed you’d cull the records and find someone else for Omega command. A fresh body. Someone new.”
In presenting the arguments to keep Blaine on active duty and inside the Taskforce, Kurt had basically sabotaged his current plan. When it had become clear that there was no good way to retain Blaine without an inquiry into what he’d been doing and exposure of Taskforce operations—in effect, giving up the organization to prove that he wasn’t just a homesteading staff officer at the Pentagon, coasting through his career—Kurt had agreed to let him go. Then he’d thought about Pike’s words in the restaurant. After multiple consultations with George Wolffe, he’d decided it was—while not perfect—the best solution available.
Kurt said, “I know, sir, but I’ve thought about it, and I don’t think we should attempt to train up another person for the Omega operations. It’s the crux of the Taskforce mission, and the greatest single point of failure. We need someone on the X who understands both the tactical and strategic dimensions of a hit. Someone who knows when to proceed and when to quit, and that’s Blaine. He’s learned too much to simply let him go. We talked about hiring him as a contractor just to keep his expertise, but that very expertise is wasted sitting at headquarters.”
President Warren said, “I thought you were concerned about precedent. About opening the portals of the Taskforce too wide. You have a cut line of who is eligible to even try out for the Taskforce. By doing this, you’re potentially abusing your own rules. What’s to say, years from now, when you and I are both gone, the commander decides to hire someone based on friendship? Someone not from the DoD’s Special Mission Units or CIA paramilitary world?”
“Sir, that’s a risk, I know, but I think it’s a greater risk to replace him. We aren’t a plug-and-play unit like an Infantry command. His skills weren’t learned at Ranger School or Command and General Staff College. I’m actually looking at the long-term health of the Taskforce.”
Palmer said, “Or you’re just kicking the can down the road.”
President Warren said, “How would it work? How can you have a civilian leading active-duty members?”
“It works because of his reputation. It’s not like he wears a uniform on the job with his rank. The men listen to him because of who he is, not because of his title.”
“I don’t know if I want to start outsourcing to contractors.”
“Sir, you already do, with Pike Logan. He’s a civilian too, but he’s in charge of a team of active-duty guys.”
President Warren imperceptibly nodded, thinking through the ramifications, and Kurt pressed. “Sir, technically, you’re a civilian. But you’re also the commander in chief. Vice President Hannister is running for your job. He knows the terrain, but you have to admit that he’s going to need all the experience he can get if he wins.”
President Warren had been elected on a national security platform and had brought Phillip Hannister to the ticket because of his economic expertise and domestic experience as an effort to round out the campaign.
Palmer laughed and said, �
��Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. The election is months away.”
Wolffe spoke for the first time. “It’s not that far off, and we need to plan for the future. Whatever that future may be.”
President Warren said, “Okay, you guys, we’ll take a look at it. We’ve got time to sort this out.” He stood, indicating the meeting was over.
Kurt rose as well and said, “Sir, I’ve got one other thing to talk about.”
“What is it?”
“Pike’s located Guy George, and it’s bad.”
President Warren said, “How bad?”
“You might want to sit back down.”
He did so, and Kurt laid out everything he knew, detailing Guy’s killing spree in Key West and Crete and the attempt to capture or kill him in the restaurant, ending with the confrontation on the ferry.
Palmer was stunned, his mouth slightly open. He found his voice and said, “So Pike had a chance to bring him in and didn’t? After he learned about the killings?”
“It’s not that simple. Pike couldn’t have taken him down on the ferry, in front of the crew and passengers from a foreign country. Guy threatened Taskforce exposure. Pike did the correct thing here.”
“Maybe he picked a wrong time to approach. Hell, earlier you were using him as an example of a civilian with needed experience. I would have thought Pike would know better.”
Kurt started to answer and President Warren interrupted with a question. “Would Guy do that? Expose the Taskforce?”
Kurt said, “I don’t know, honestly. He told Pike he would, but the strange thing is, Pike didn’t go to him initially. Guy sought out the Taskforce on his own. He recognized Jennifer from that Decoy tape that’s floating around, and walked right up to her. He introduced himself and stated he hoped she was a friend. Pike thinks he was looking for help. Looking for a way out. At first, he was friendly and it looked like it would be a good ending, then he changed. It’s like he’s bouncing between the good and the bad. I just don’t know what he’s capable of.”
