Honorable Lies (A Titus Black Thriller Book 6)

by R. J. Patterson

  Zahid studied it for a moment more then shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “No? Not even your own house?”

  Zahid leaned forward, squinting his eyes. “Maybe that’s my house.”

  “And that’s your son outside in the backyard. He’s watching the drone circling around your property.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Zahid said. “You probably have satellite footage and are trying to make me think that you will do something if I don’t tell you what you want to know.”

  “Call your son,” Black said. “See if he answers.”

  “I’m not telling you his number,” Zahid said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Shields said. “We already have it. Does this look right to you?”

  Shields held the phone in front of Zahid, displaying a number. He remained stoic, signaling to Black that the number was correct.

  “Dial it,” Black said.

  A few seconds later, the boy depicted on the video answered the phone. Shields put the call on speaker.

  “Aloo,” the boy said.

  Zahid kept his mouth shut.

  “Aloo? Aloo?” the boy said again.

  More silence.

  Then the boy hung up. And so did the one on the screen.

  “Now,” Black said, settling into a chair in front of Zahid, “I want you to tell me who gave you the information about the cruise ship.”

  Zahid narrowed his eyes. “I won’t tell you anything.”

  “Unfortunately, you missed your opportunity to tell your son goodbye when you didn’t say hello,” Black said. “Take the shot.”

  Shields nodded and started typing on her computer.

  “No, no, no!” Zahid said. “I’ll help you. Just don’t hurt my family.”

  Black looked at Shields. “Keep the drone in the holding pattern. I want everything he says verified first.”

  “I swear I’ll tell you the truth,” Zahid said.

  Black shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

  Chapter 29

  Potomac Shores Golf Club

  Dumfries, Virginia

  J.D. BLUNT PUT his shoulder into the door, shoving it open. The Potomac Shores clubhouse was nearly empty with just a couple of men standing around the counter and staring up at the golf tournament playing on the television. One of the men acknowledged Blunt with a slight head nod.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the man asked.

  Blunt removed the unlit cigar from his mouth. “As a matter of fact, you can. I’m looking for Senator Ted Neil. Do you happen to know what time he teed off here today?”

  The clubhouse attendant furrowed his brow. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t give that information out.”

  Blunt glowered. “What’s your name, son?”

  “Franklin.”

  “You like your job, Franklin? Because I know the guy who runs this place, and if you don’t tell me what I’m asking for, I’m gonna give him a call and tell him what a punk you were to me while I was trying to buy some clubs.”

  “Uh, sir, it’s our policy not to give out any information about our guests, and I—”

  “I don’t care what your policy is. I have a get-the-job-done policy. And right now, you’ve got a golfer on your course that I need to speak to. It’s a matter of national security.”

  The man sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’ll need to see some identification, Mr.—”

  Blunt eyed the appointment book sitting in front of the man. All Blunt needed was a quick peek.

  “You been watching this tournament?” Blunt asked, pointing to the television.

  Franklin turned his head for just a second and that was just enough time for Blunt, who snatched the appointment book.

  “Sir, I told you—” Franklin said when he noticed Blunt had grabbed the book.

  “Never mind,” Blunt said as he placed the book back on the counter. “I changed my mind.”

  “I’m calling security,” Franklin said. “I saw what you did.”

  “It’ll be your last phone call here. Have a nice day.”

  Blunt spun on his heels and headed toward the door.

  “Stop him,” Franklin called out.

  Nobody in the shop moved. Blunt looked in the reflection of the door and noticed Franklin racing around the counter.

  Blunt hastened his pace, hustling toward the line of carts sitting around the corner of the building. He hopped into the first one he found with the keys still in the ignition and threw the gear into reverse. The cart emitted a long shrill beep as he slammed his foot on the gas pedal.

  By the time Blunt shifted back into drive, he heard Franklin shouting as he rounded the corner. Blunt stomped on the accelerator and took off for the course.

  Based on Neil’s tee time, Blunt calculated that Neil’s foursome would be on the seventh hole. Blunt would’ve preferred to be waiting for Neil at the tee box on the eighth hole, but knew with the pesky clubhouse attendant in pursuit, there wasn’t time for that. The conversation with Neil needed to be immediate and brief.

  Blunt sped toward the green on the seventh hole, just in time to see Neil strolling toward his ball while laughing with a lobbyist Blunt knew all too well.

  Glen Pinkston. Maybe I could just drive up on the green and run him over too. Make it a two-fer-one.

  Blunt opted for restraint and instead parked his cart as close to the green as possible before hopping out. Neil stood behind his ball, eyeing the green to get a read on how his ball would break, when Blunt yelled at him.

  “Ted, I need a word with you,” Blunt said.

  “J.D. Blunt, what in the world are you doing out here?” Neil said, shaking his head subtly. “Can’t you see I’m just about to putt?”

  “It can wait,” Blunt said as he stormed toward the Colorado senator. “What I’ve got to say can’t.”

  Neil narrowed his eyes. “This better be good.”

  “You’re breaking up my rhythm, J.D.” Pinkston said with a growl.

  “Can it, Glen,” Blunt said. “You’re lucky to be on a golf course and not in jail right now. I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you.”

  Blunt edged within a few feet of Neil before more shouting erupted behind him.

  “What’s going on here?” Neil said, nodding in the direction of the commotion.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Blunt said. “But we need to talk right now.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “How did you know Darryl Oliver?” Blunt asked.

  Neil furrowed his brow. “Who?”

  “Darryl Oliver,” Blunt repeated. “How did you know him?”

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” Neil said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a tough putt to make here and I need to read the green.”

  “You know damn well who he is as someone who sits on the intelligence committee,” Black said. “The federal agent who was killed in the Bahamas on the cruise ship attack. Is it coming back to you yet?”

  Neil shook his head. “No, still doesn’t sound familiar.”

  “I have your phone records where he called you right before he got on that ship,” Black said. “So, you might want to rethink your answer.”

  “Still nothing, J.D. Now, this putter is either gonna hit my ball in the hole or you in the head. I’ll let you decide what it’s gonna be.”

  Blunt growled as he spun around and headed back toward his golf cart. By this time, two security guards were on hand, ready to escort Blunt off the premises.

  “Better have a good lawyer, Ted,” Blunt shouted, shaking his fist in the air as he walked toward his cart.

  One of the guards put his hand on Blunt’s arm, which he shrugged off.

  “Sir, you need to leave now,” the man said.

  Blunt nodded. “I am.”

  Before he got into his cart, he loosened the strap that secured Neil’s golf bag to his cart and yanked his clubs onto the cart path.

  “You’re not gonna get away with this,” Blunt shouted. />
  * * *

  NEIL WATCHED the Potomac Shores security staff escort Blunt back to the clubhouse before he finished his putt. He hit the cup dead center before pumping his fist.

  “Dan, you owe me another hundred bucks,” Neil said to one of the men in the foursome.

  The man sighed and trudged back to their cart.

  “Just one second,” Neil yelled to his partner. “I need to make a quick call.”

  Neil swallowed hard as he scrolled through his phone book. Blunt’s rantings were rude, but they also were publicly heard by three other members of his foursome. And they didn’t need to hear any of it. He dialed a number and waited for someone to answer.

  When they finally did, Neil dispensed with the pleasantries.

  “We’ve got a big problem,” he said, “and I need to talk with you as soon as possible.”

  Chapter 30

  39°12’42.3"N, 20°07’15.2"E

  Off coast of Paxos Island, Greece

  BLACK PACED AROUND the tight quarters below deck as he began his interrogation of Zahid. With the introduction of the drone surveillance, Black recognized that Zahid was more than willing to talk. An operative without any wife or kids would’ve been more difficult to break, but Black leveraged Zahid’s most prized possession against him. Black detested the tactic, but it was better than waterboarding and far more effective.

  “How old are your children?” Black asked.

  Zahid narrowed his eyes. “Why do you even care? Do you have children of your own?”

  Black shook his head.

  “Then you will never understand this type of torture,” Zahid said, his face displaying both pain and disgust. “I would do anything for my family, anything. And that’s why I do what I do, for their future, for my people.”

  “In that case, you and I aren’t very different,” Black said. “We just have different ideals, especially about the path we choose to get there.”

  “No,” Zahid said, “we are so different. You represent a government full of hate and contempt for my people. I fight for freedom.”

  “Killing innocent people isn’t how you fight for freedom.”

  “Yet, you’re willing to kill my innocent family,” Zahid said.

  Black shrugged. “To save other innocent lives, sure. But we can avoid any more killing today if you cooperate. Understand?”

  Zahid scowled as he nodded.

  “Good,” Black said. “Now, let’s start with this. Who gave you the information regarding the cruise ship?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know or you won’t say?”

  “Someone contacted us with the information, but we don’t know who it was.”

  Black stroked his chin. “How did this person contact you?”

  Zahid sighed and glanced at Shields before returning his gaze to Black. “It was through a video game.”

  “Which one?”

  “Runescape.”

  “How does it work?” Black asked.

  “Whenever I log in, someone sends me a private message and we chat.”

  “This is how you found out about the cruise ship? Some random person contacted you?”

  “More or less,” Zahid said. “We met in a chat room somewhere else and switched our communications over to Runescape. It was far more secure.”

  Black turned to Shields. “Do you have this game downloaded onto your computer?”

  “I go by the name of Ringwraith,” Shields said. “Of course I have the game downloaded.”

  Black sighed and shook his head. “The more I learn about you, the more I grow concerned.”

  She turned on an extra laptop she had in her computer bag and started to set up the game.

  Black turned back to Zahid. “So, here’s how this is going to work. You’re going to login and reach out to your contact. No code talk or anything like that. Got it?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Ask him about another possible target and that you liked what the bombing did for your organization. Would that seem too suspicious?”

  Zahid shook his head. “After I do this, will you let me go?”

  “My deal is this information to spare your family,” Black said. “You still have to answer for what you did.”

  “Then I will not help you any further,” Zahid said.

  Black glared at Zahid. “I can make this very painful for you.”

  “What difference does it make? Your guarantees mean nothing. If I tell you all this, you may murder my family anyway.”

  “You have to trust me,” Black said.

  “I never trust Americans.”

  Shields placed the laptop on the table in front of Zahid. “I suggest you give me your username and password to login. I’m far easier to deal with than him.”

  Zahid shook his head in defiance as he pursed his lips. “I’ll do no such thing.”

  Black pulled out a knife and placed the edge of the blade against Zahid’s fingers. “Want to reconsider that last statement?”

  Zahid’s eyes widened as he pleaded for Black not to harm him. “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. Just please stop.”

  Black glanced at Zahid’s left hand. His pinky had been severed at the tip. “Sure you don’t want me to make your hands even again?”

  “I told you I’ll help you,” Zahid said. “Please, don’t cut off my finger.”

  Black drew back and waved his knife at Zahid. “No tricks. Understand?”

  Zahid nodded. Then he looked at Shields. “My username is CoffinMan. Password is death, the number 2, America.”

  “How original,” Black said.

  “It’s one I never forget,” Zahid said with a faint smile.

  Zahid walked Shields through the steps of how to contact a user named Uncle Sam’s Regret.

  When they finished, Black looked at Shields. “Now what?”

  “We wait.”

  Chapter 31

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT ENTERED THE FIRESTORM offices without even speaking to his assistant. She held out a few call return slips, but he ignored them, rushing past her to find Alex. When he reached her desk, she glanced up at him and shook her head.

  “What is it?” Blunt asked.

  “I would say you’re not going to believe what I’m about to tell you, but you probably will,” she said.

  “Did Neil fall for it?”

  “Hook, line, and sinker, I think.”

  “You think?” Blunt said as his eyebrows shot upward.

  “Well, Neil didn’t waste any time making a call after you visited him, but I’m not sure you’re going to like the results.”

  He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

  “Right after you left, I intercepted Neil’s call, thanks to the device you left behind.”

  “It was hidden in a golf ball,” Blunt said with a shrug. “It wasn’t that difficult.”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “I ripped his bag off his cart and dropped the ball along with several of his that had fallen out,” Blunt said. “It wasn’t that difficult.”

  “Still, you get major style points.”

  Blunt smiled wryly. “I’ll take them. So, what happened after I left?”

  “As you predicted, Neil almost immediately placed a phone call. But you’ll never guess whose number he dialed.”

  “Lay it on me,” Blunt said. “Though if I had to guess, I’m going with Col. Ron Marshall.”

  Alex slapped her desk and sighed. “You’re ruining all my fun.”

  “We already anticipated that, but what did he say.?”

  “This is where it got interesting,” Alex said. “I’m not sure if they were talking in code, but their conversation was brief and muddled.”

  “Go on,” Blunt said, easing into the chair across from Alex’s desk.

  “Neil said he had a big problem and needed to meet right away. Neil left after he reached the ninth hole and met at Marshall’s house. Fortunately, I was ab
le to tap into Neil’s phone and listen to their conversation.”

  “And?”

  Alex squinted. “Neil was pretty angry, demanding to know what was going on and why you would be approaching him on the golf course. Marshall sounded as if he was clueless. The way he responded, Neil might as well have been speaking some tribal language. The conversation didn’t last more than ten minutes as Neil recounted his interaction with you, but when they finished, Marshall promised to make a call and get you under control.”

  Blunt grunted. “Good luck with that.”

  “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Alex said. “I’m just reporting what I heard.”

  Blunt sighed and then stood. “That’s not exactly how I envisioned this going.”

  “Yeah, you laid a trap and Neil even took the bait, but there’s nothing here. Your hunch about the Fullgood Initiative still smoldering doesn’t seem likely if Marshall is in the dark about this.”

  Blunt raised his finger in the air. “Possibly about this incident, but just because he doesn’t know what’s going on here doesn’t mean Fullgood is entirely dead.”

  She nodded. “Good point. But I think we’re out of luck unless Neil happens to contact someone who does know what’s going on. However, I think he went to the likeliest source and came up empty.”

  “Great,” Blunt said. “Marshall still has some pull in this city. How much, I’m not sure. But this is going to cost me.”

  Alex chuckled. “What do you care? If you haven’t pissed off somebody in Washington, it’s only because you haven’t met them.”

  Blunt smiled. “Your analyst skills never cease to amaze me. The agency lost a good one when they got rid of you.”

  “I’m happier here,” she said. “Now, I’ll keep searching for connections here, but I have serious doubts that Neil is your guy pulling the strings.”

  “That still doesn’t explain the fact that Darryl Oliver called Neil before getting on that ship.”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. “But the call wasn’t a long one. Maybe a wrong number?”

  “The odds of that seem incredibly low.”

  She nodded. “I agree, but without admission from Neil, it’s just a piece of the puzzle but doesn’t give us any clearer picture of how everything fits together.”