by Ivy Nelson
Carrie leaned back against the vinyl seat and toyed with her phone. “It’s a long damn story but it all ties back to the black budget which would be in line with what you’re telling me.”
“So, why don’t you just ask Tom Neiland?”
Carrie scrunched eyebrows together and wrinkled her nose. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, ever since your editor started printing stories on the black budget, he’s been an asset for the NSA. They liked the analysis he did of the documents some whistle-blower leaked a few years back and they recruited him to do analysis for them. It’s not dangerous, not the way this missing operative’s work is, but he definitely freelances for the NSA.”
Carrie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Wasn’t that some kind of conflict of interest? Why would Tom do this? Maybe it was time to lay everything on the line and confront Tom.
Chapter Thirty
In the end, Carrie decided not to bring Gary into her lunch with Gina, but she let her know that she would pass this information along to someone who would be able to help find the missing NSA operative. Now, she sat in the passenger seat and filled Gary in as he drove her back to her office.
“I’m going to confront Tom. He’s been keeping too many secrets from me,” she said when she finished.
Gary glanced at her. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. If he’s been recruited by the NSA or any of the other alphabet soup agencies, he’s probably been sworn to secrecy. Confronting him could be dangerous for both of you.” He flipped his blinker on and changed lanes. “Then again, if I were a betting man, I would say he led you to the Doll House on purpose and he wants you to figure all of this out so he can rescue his daughter.”
Carrie ran a hand through her hair. “It’s so confusing. The way Carla acts, she’s a willing participant in whatever the hell this is.”
Gary touched her shoulder. “I’ve broken up trafficking rings hon. Women are very rarely willing participants even when it looks like they are.”
Carrie felt her heart twist. How would Tom’s daughter have gotten wrapped up in this? There were still so many unanswered questions, but she knew they were only one thread away from tying it all together. If they couldn’t talk to Ripley, or Boomer, or whatever his name was, Tom might be the next best thing.
“I’m going to talk to him. Maybe I won’t ambush him with everything, but I’ll definitely feel him out and see if he’s open to talking.”
“Good plan. I’ll be around the corner if you need me. He might feel comfortable talking to one of Boomer’s friends.”
“Why Boomer?” she asked.
Gary chuckled. “His first name is Cannon. He hates it so we gave him a nickname he hates even more. He would much rather be called Ripley.”
Carrie chuckled. “Boys are so mean to each other.”
The car pulled up to the curb and Carrie hopped out. “Thanks, Gary. I’ll see you when I get off.”
“You got it, hot stuff. I’m just a phone call away.”
Carrie mulled over what she was going to say to Tom when she confronted him. Instead of stopping at her desk, she marched straight to his office and knocked on his door.
“Come in,” he shouted.
Carrie pushed open the door. “We need to talk. Is it safe to do that here?” she asked.
Tom looked puzzled. “Why wouldn’t it be safe to talk in my office?”
“I don’t know. The NSA might be listening.”
Tom shrugged. “Far as I’m concerned, they listen to everyone, so I’ve just stopped worrying about.” Carrie wanted to growl. He thought she was joking.
This black budget stuff is leading me in some interesting places. Specifically, to the Doll House Cabaret and a bartender named Carla and a bouncer named Ripley. That ringing any bells?”
“Shut the God damned door,” Tom snapped. Carrie knew she’d struck a chord and was on the right track.
“You figure out she’s my daughter?” he asked when she had shut and bolted the door.
Carrie nodded. “I wasn’t sure at first but then I realized she’s the spitting image of your ex-wife. Is that why you benched me? Is someone threatening her?”
“Something like that. I haven’t actually seen her in seven years Carrie. Her disappearance is the reason Sarah and I split. She always felt like Carla just ran off and was sowing her wild oats. I knew better. Then I started working with the NSA on analyzing budget data. Ripley started passing me intel under the table because he didn’t think the agencies were doing enough about the problem. He wanted me to go public with it. Print everything in the paper. I was on the verge of doing just that, when I started getting threats from someone with pictures of Carla. Ripley was able to confirm that she was working for the Doll House doing more than just bar tending.”
Carrie stared in disbelief at her boss. “So, is that why you suggested I go to the Doll House as part of my research for the anti-trafficking bill piece?”
Tom nodded. “I knew Ripley was on the inside, so I passed him your details and told him to keep an eye out for you. If you showed up, he was going to send you a package and feel you out to see if he wanted to keep working with you.”
Carrie needed to sit down. “So, have you been in contact with Ripley this whole time?” she asked as she settled onto the couch.
Tom shook his head. “No. I went dark. Stopped cooperating with the NSA all together and let Ripley know I wouldn’t be able to accept intel from him anymore. There was no way in hell I was going to put my daughter at risk. At the same time, I wanted this shut down, so I had to put someone on it. You’re the best.” Tom stood and came around to the front of his desk, leaning against it.
“So why did you bench me then?”
“I guess you identified yourself as a Post reporter to the wrong person, because I got another threat to pull you off or else. I’m pretty sure the FBI agent you talked to the day after the bomb got left outside the Doll House wasn’t actually an FBI agent. He’s one of Carrasco’s men.”
Carrie wrinkled her nose. “Who the fuck is Carrasco?”
Tom scratched his head. “You might know him as Dino Carranza. His real name is Diego Carrasco.”
Carrie took a deep breath. “Damn Tom. I think I need you to start over. I’m still a little lost.”
Tom gave a wry laugh. “It’s confusing as hell. Tell me what you’ve figured out.”
Carrie went through the dots she’d connected.
“Carranza, or Carrasco I guess, is running some kind of sex trafficking ring. What I can’t figure out is what the Doll House has to do with anything. Upwood, for some reason that is beyond my comprehension is funneling him money to fund the operation. The other thing that is mind boggling is who is trying to kill Upwood and why?”
“The thing Ripley couldn’t figure out was where the money was coming from. In some of my analysis I accidentally found the money. I actually didn’t know what I had found until a few weeks ago, right before I nudged you toward the story.”
“God. I have so many questions, Tom. But the big concern right now is that nobody has heard from Ripley since a few days ago. He’s missed all of his check-ins with his handler.”
Tom cursed. “What about Carla? I haven’t heard anything about her in a while and I’m too scared to go down there for fear I’ll get her killed.”
“I saw her the other night when I went in there. She’s still doing OK. I think as long as we lay low, she’ll stay that way. I’m going to bring in a couple of friends to help us out if that’s OK with you.”
Tom nodded. “Do what you need to Carrie. I trust you. I just want my daughter to be OK.”
“I’m going to go to my desk and get everything Ripley has sent me so far,” Carrie said, rising from the couch.
In her cubicle, Carrie pulled out the various packages she’d received.
“Looks like you got another one,” a voice said. Carrie looked up, not understand. It was the guy from the mail room, and he was holding another p
ackage like the ones laying on her desk.
Carrie felt her pulse speed up, but she did her best to act natural as she accepted the envelope and waited for the intern to move on to the next row of cubicles. When he was out of sight, she opened it with shaky fingers. It was light, just a single sheet of paper.
You can’t trust Agent Mercer anymore, Upwood has turned him. We need to meet. Give me a call, we can meet at our spot.
Rip
A phone number was listed at the bottom and it looked oddly familiar to her, but she had no idea why. There was something terribly fishy about this note. It was typed the same way as the others, but it just didn’t sound right. The hairs on the back of Carrie’s neck stood up as she pulled out her phone.
“Gary, I think I need you to come to my cubicle. Maybe see if Peter can meet us,” she said when he answered.
“I’ll be there faster than small town gossip, hot stuff.”
Carrie stared at the phone. The moments when the Texas came out in Gary always amused her.
True to his word, Gary was there in no time at all. As she was handing him the note, Carrie’s phone rang.
“What’s going on. Why didn’t you call me?” Peter sounded pissed.
“I figured Gary could get here faster than you since that’s kind of his job right now. I’m not sure what’s going on, but you should definitely see this. Tom wants to talk to us too.”
“What does Tom have to do with this?”
Right, she hadn’t filled him on her lunch with Gina yet. “I have a lot to tell you. Let’s all get together for an early dinner. Is your place safe?”
Gary was shaking his head and pointing at himself. At the same time, Peter said, “See if Gary is willing to let us meet at his place.”
Carrie giggled. “That’s what he just said.”
They ended their call with Carrie promising to let him know when they were on their way to Gary’s place.
“When did you get this?” Gary asked.
“Just before I called you.”
“Obviously it’s not from Boomer, right?”
Carrie shook her head. “I don’t see how it could be. There’s something so familiar about that phone number too.”
Carrie turned to her monitor and started typing it into a reverse number lookup site. The full number appeared in a drop-down box as if she had searched for this number before. “Damn it. I knew I’d seen it before.” She quickly dug through her stack of notes and came up with a sticky note. “Justice Department, my ass.”
“OK, you’re gonna have to fill me in,” Gary said as he laid the note down on the desk and snapped a picture of it with his phone.
“Sorry. A couple of weeks ago, I got a phone call from this number. They were claiming to be from the justice department. I think a Freedom of Information Act request I put in triggered an alarm for somebody.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, they threatened me and told me to stop pursuing whatever I was pursuing. I don’t think they were actually from the justice department, and now I know they aren’t.”
Gary whistled. “And what does ‘our spot’ mean?”
Carrie shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
Gary’s phone buzzed. He read the incoming message and flashed his screen at her.
Rest area outside town. He’s in danger. They made him write this and he’s signaling to keep Carrie away.
Carrie’s eyes grew large. Then her own phone buzzed.
Do as your told and stay the fuck away from that rest area.
Carrie stuck her tongue out at the phone and Gary laughed. “Don’t think I won’t tattle on you, woman.” Carrie turned her face to him with her tongue still sticking out.
“Bite me, Gary.”
The tall Texan threw his head back in laughter. “You’re something else. Come on. Let’s go get this Tom fella.”
A half hour later, they were pulling into Gary’s driveway. His truck was already there, signaling that Peter had arrived. Carrie’s heart skipped a beat as she watched him step out of the truck. His face was determined and his stride purposeful as he made his way to her. He yanked her to him and held her close and Carrie reveled in his affection.
“Christ, Carrie. They’re trying to lure you to a trap,” he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.
Tom and Gary stood back as the couple embraced.
“We should get inside,” Carrie said, not wanting to think about whoever they were and what they wanted with her.
Peter held her hand all the way inside. Gary showed them to the dining room and went the fridge to pull out drinks. “I can order us food,” he said.
Tom declined, but Carrie was starving. They wound up having pizza delivered. While they waited, Peter and Gary grilled Tom about everything he knew.
“I don’t understand how repeating myself is going to help. I already told Carrie all of this,” he grumbled.
“They have different perspectives Tom. You’re a damned journalist, you know how important that is,” Carrie admonished gently.
“So, my question is, if they know he’s dirty why hasn’t the NSA taken Upwood down?” Peter asked.
Tom shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I thought that’s what the plan was, but then Ripley started handing me stuff because he suspected that nothing was being done about it. I’m not sure if he thought someone at the NSA was dirty too or if his mission was so far off the books that they couldn’t legally do anything with what they found. If I had to guess, I would say he got himself attached to one of these women and he’s pissed because she died or got hurt and nothing is being done to avenge her.”
Gary was nodding. “That sounds about like Boomer.”
“Boomer?” Tom asked.
Carrie patted his arm. “Don’t ask.”
After the pizza arrived, the foursome ate in companionable silence. When they were done, Tom said goodbye, promising to check in tomorrow. Peter and Gary hatched a plan to rescue Ripley. “We’ll have Carrie call the number and arrange a meeting. We’ll be the ones who show, not her.” Gary suggested.
Peter didn’t even like the idea of her talking on the phone to whoever these people were, but Carrie talked him down and that’s how she found herself with the phone pressed to her ear, waiting for someone to answer.
“Carrie Davenport,” a voice said.
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Rip.”
Carrie took a deep breath and looked at the notes that Peter had written for her. “And how do I know you’re really Rip and not an impostor?” she asked, reading from the page. There was silence for a moment and Carrie thought they had hung up on her.
“I rammed into the limo you were riding in a couple of weeks ago and put you in a limo home.”
Her voice shook as she spoke the next question. “Why can’t I trust Mercer anymore? You’re the one who sent me to him to begin with.”
There was a cough on the other end. “I… uh. I figured out that he’s just as dirty as Upwood.” Right, Carrie thought.
“So, when do you want to meet at our spot?”
When she ended the call, Carrie felt certain that these people had figured out that Cannon Ripley was deep cover and he would soon be dead if they didn’t help him. She relayed the meeting information to the men, and they retreated to Gary’s office to hatch a plan. There was a knock on the door an hour or so later. It was Reggie and Olivia.
“What are you guys doing here?” Carrie asked.
“I’m here to keep you safe,” Reggie said, as if it were the most normal thing to do on a weekday afternoon.
“And I’m here to keep you from going crazy,” Olivia said.
Behind her, Peter said, “I thought you might like a prettier face to look at than Reggie’s ugly mug.”
Carrie turned around with a giggle and stared at him. “I take it you’re leaving me here while you and Gary go play superhero?”
Peter nodded. “That’s about right. Hopefully it works.”
Turning back to Reggie, Carrie win
ked at him and said, “I think you’re very handsome. Thank you for being willing to protect me.” He gave a small bow before he wandered to the kitchen saying he smelled pizza.
“Please be safe,” Carrie whispered when Olivia had left also.
Peter pulled her into his arms. “I always am, baby. Everything will be fine. You just be good and don’t give Reggie any lip. He’s ugly, but he’s good at keeping people safe.”
Carrie smacked his arm. “He’s not ugly. Be nice to your friends.”
Peter chuckled and kissed her head. “We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it on time. I’m hurrying home to you.”
As she watched him and Gary climb into his SUV, Carrie couldn’t get rid of the sinking feeling that they weren’t coming back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Peter navigated traffic and reviewed the plan with Gary. The rest stop was still twenty minutes away, and they were unsure of what they would find. As soon as Peter saw the note that was supposedly from Boomer, he knew it was a trap meant for Carrie. She was digging too much, and they wanted to silence her. There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but his main concern now was making sure his friend was OK. Boomer had been a big part of his life in his early CIA career, working multiple jobs together cultivating assets and agents for the agency. When Peter left for the Secret Service, Boomer had dropped out of communication, only calling Gary every few months when he could check in.
“The parking lot of the rest area is visible from the road, we’ll drive past it and see what there is to see and then we’ll circle back and pull in,” Peter said as they got closer to their destination. Earlier in the drive, Peter had called to check in with Upwood’s detail. The agent who spoke to him said he’d been holed up in his office all day and had no plans to leave anytime soon. That was good, hopefully that meant Peter could stay under the radar until he had what he needed to have him arrested if that’s what this was going to come to.
As they drove by the rest area, Gary snapped a dozen photos with the camera he had brought along. Flipping through them on the small screen he said, “I count three cars. Hard to say which belong to our henchmen.”
