by J. C. Fields
“I didn’t think anything about it. I was proud of the work we did on your house and the cabin. It was something I wanted to share with him. He listened uninterested until I told him you were the sniper he spotted for in Kuwait.”
Wolfe did not respond.
“That’s when he went psycho on me. Why did he do that, Michael?”
“A good question. The last time I saw him was Desert Storm in the early 90s.”
“Then what he said later doesn’t make sense.”
The ex-sniper stiffened. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me he was in prison because of you.”
“Really? Did he explain?”
“Kind of. He told me if he could tell the Department of Justice where you were, they’d let him out.”
“And this was two years ago when you visited him?”
“Yeah. He said he’d made a deal with the DOJ. If he ever learned where you were, he could tell them and get a pardon.”
“So, he made the deal two years ago. Is that correct?”
“He made it before my visit.”
Wolfe pursed his lips. “Huh.”
“I thought he was crazy. That’s why I never mentioned it to you.”
“I’m guessing here, but you didn’t tell him where you lived, did you?”
“I had planned to, but his anger at you was so intense, I decided not to.”
“So how did he know where to find you?”
A shrug was his answer.
“Martin…”
“I sent him a letter telling him Jana and I were getting married.”
“So, he knew from the return address.”
“I didn’t put a return address on it.”
Nadia said, “The letter would have had a postmark from West Plains.”
The impostor frowned. “I didn’t think of that.”
“So how did he end up dead on my property?”
“I’m getting to that. When he got loud at JT’s, I took him outside to his rental car. That’s when he took a swing at me.”
“There was a fight?” This came from Nadia.
Benson gave her a sad smile. “He was so drunk it wasn’t much of one. He missed, fell flat on his face and knocked himself out. I stuffed him into his vehicle and took him to the cabin to sober up.”
“Did you stay?”
Shaking his head, Martin remained silent.
“Don’t start lying to me.”
“I’ve had to deal with his crazy family as long as I can remember.” He paused and looked into the darkness above them. “As I drove him out here, I realized getting back in contact with him had been a huge mistake.”
“I get that.”
“When we got to the cabin, he had sobered up enough he started threatening me. He told me if I didn’t tell him where you were, he’d find Jana and hurt her.”
Wolfe focused his attention on his friend. The pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. “Where’d the gun come from, Martin?”
Benson remained quiet.
“I expect you to be truthful, Martin.” Wolfe crossed his arms. “Did your brother commit suicide?”
Martin shrugged.
“Again, where did the gun come from?”
More silence.
“Martin, I can’t help you if you don’t tell the truth.”
“I found it in a cave at Tora Bora. I never declared it and smuggled it back to the States.”
“Was it already at the cabin?”
Benson nodded again. “I kept it in a kitchen drawer with a box of twenty-two caliber hollow points.”
“Why didn’t you contact Jana after you left the cabin?”
“I had my reasons.”
“I think it would be a good idea to tell me.”
The impostor shuffled his feet without answering.
Wolfe placed his hand on the H&K in its holster. “I don’t have time for these theatrics, Martin. Spill it.”
“I drove to Tennessee.”
“Why?”
More shuffling of feet.
“Your evasiveness is starting to tell me you’re making this up as you, go. Want to try again?” Wolfe withdrew the H&K and held by his side.
Benson stared at the gun and then looked at Jana. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Bobby got involved with some bad people. Real bad people, Michael. I didn’t want them to find me. I figured if they knew Bobby was out of prison, they’d follow him here and then…”
“Find you and Jana.”
He nodded. “That’s why I’ve been posing as Bobby. I figured if they were looking for Martin Benson and knew Bobby was in prison, well, they’d leave anyone named Bobby Benson alone.”
“I’m not sure your logic was sound, but apparently it worked. How’d you get the ID?”
“It was the week before he went to prison. I stole his driver’s license one night while he was drunk. Since we look similar…” His voice trailed off without finishing his sentence.
“Who are they?”
“He was arrested in Miami for drugs and manslaughter. What do you think?”
Wolfe paused. “Was Bobby mixed up with a drug cartel?”
A nod was his only answer.
Nadia stepped further into the light of the lantern. “Jana, why did you tear up your house?”
Jana gave Benson a quick glance. He nodded. She returned her attention to Nadia. “We wanted to leave a message for you and Michael.”
With a frown, Nadia shook her head. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you just call me?”
“Martin thought if someone besides you and Michael were looking for us, they would think I was kidnapped.”
Rolling his eyes, Wolfe snorted. “You two didn’t think this through very well.” He turned to Martin. “Did you kill your half-brother?”
Benson stared hard into the eyes of Wolfe but still did not answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you have somewhere you can go out of state?”
With a nod, Martin said. “That’s why I drove to Tennessee—to make arrangements.”
“How long can you stay?”
“Indefinitely.”
“Then why are you two still here in a cave hiding?”
Jana said. “I didn’t want to leave until we could explain things to you and Nadia.”
Wolfe shook his head. “Then I think you two should leave for Tennessee right now and forget about West Plains. Permanently.”
Both Martin and Jana nodded.
Chapter 22
Washington, DC
Two Days Later
J erry Griggs rapped a knuckle on the doorframe of Joseph’s office. Kincaid looked up and waved him inside. After shutting the door, the assistant sat down across from his boss and smiled. “I have news from Paris.”
Joseph grinned. “Good or bad?”
“Depends on your perspective.”
“Tell me.”
“Reid failed to tell anyone where he was going the day he disappeared.”
“To be expected.”
“Yes, but the station chief has a history with Reid and doesn’t trust the guy. So, he checked up on him. Apparently, Reid was spotted boarding a private jet at Paris-Le Bourget Airport—that’s an airport exclusively dedicated to business aviation. It’s located about seven kilometers from Paris.”
“I’m familiar with it. Where did he go?”
“A flight plan for the plane was filed for Seville, Spain with a return the same day.”
“Any word about what he did there?”
Griggs shook his head. “Nothing that can be confirmed.”
“Anything that can’t be confirmed?”
“One of the station chief’s assistants had, uh…” Griggs paused. “An informal interview with one of the pilots. I’m told she is very pretty.”
With a slight grin, Joseph nodded. “I’m sure she is.”
“The pilot told her Reid rented a car and was gone for about six hours. When he returned, they immediately flew back to
Paris in time for the reception that evening. My friend was now very curious, so he had someone check with the rental car service and found out the driver only put fifty-four kilometers on the vehicle while it was out.”
Joseph grinned again. “I will assume you know the answer to the next question. What is exactly twenty-seven kilometers from the airport, Jerry?”
“Glad you asked. The town of Carmona.”
Standing, Joseph walked over to a window and stared out over the back lawn of the White House. “Who would Reid be meeting in Carmona, Spain on a clandestine trip?”
“I have pictures.”
Joseph turned to stare at Griggs. “Pictures?”
The young assistant placed a photograph on Joseph’s desk. “AESA security cameras took this. Facial recognition software gives it a seventy-eight percent chance of being Asa Gerlis.”
Picking the picture up, the ex-CIA man stared at it for a minute. “It’s him.”
“You sure?”
“He’s had surgery and grown a beard, but it’s him.” Joseph placed the photo back on his desk.
The younger man returned the picture to a file. “Thought he was dead.”
“Lots of ways to fake a video. A body was never found.”
Griggs frowned. “So, what’s going on, Joseph?”
“Not sure, but I believe it is time to have a private chat with the Director.”
With a smile, Griggs stood. “I bet you know someone who could arrange that.”
His response was a nod.
The Next Day
“Thank you for doing this today, Marvin.”
“My pleasure, Mr. President.”
Marvin Young, having been appointed to the position of Director of Central Intelligence just before the previous president, President Richard Bryant, died of a massive aortic aneurism, smiled. He was the last hold-out from the previous administration. The current president, Roy Griffin, still had doubts about the man.
Griffin handed the president’s daily brief binder back to Young. “Would you mind joining Joseph and me in my private office?”
“Certainly, Mr. President.”
Griffin led the two men out of the Oval Office down a short hall and gestured for them to enter his private office just across from the President’s private lavatory. The room contained a small desk and two comfortable wing-back chairs for guests.
Now in his mid-fifties, Roy Griffin stood a bit over six-feet-tall. Male-model handsome, he wore his blond hair longer than current fashion, causing certain pundits to proclaim him the next John F. Kennedy. Even by his home state of California standards, he was wealthy. He was keenly aware his looks and money were the main reason he was elected to Congress. And, by a quirk of fate and the death of the previous president, he now held the highest office in the land.
Because of this turn of events, he constantly reminded himself to make a difference and bring calm to a dysfunctional Washington, DC. Originally elected by his image-conscious Northern California district as a member of the House of Representatives, he’d been drafted by his party to unseat the previous junior senator from California. After being a Senator for four years, he’d been asked by the previous occupant of the Oval Office to become his Vice President. Now he was the Leader of the Free World.
“What can I do for you, sir?” The DCI sat with a slightly concerned look on his face.
Griffin started the conversation. “How well do you know Assistant Director Gerald Reid?”
Young shrugged and cleared his throat. “Uh, how well does anyone know Gerald Reid?”
Griffin remained quiet, forcing the DCI to say more.
“The man works twelve to fourteen hours a day. When he’s not at the agency, he’s at his place in Virginia, working. Why?”
Joseph asked the next question. “What was the purpose of the meeting he attended in Paris recently?”
“A conference with his European counterparts. It was designed to begin the process of developing enhanced communication strategies between agencies on suspected terrorists.” Young looked at Joseph and then the president. “Why do you ask?”
Griffin handed Young a sheet of paper outlining Reid’s trip to Spain. “I am asking, Marvin, to find out why Gerald Reid disappeared from the conference for thirteen hours to have a meeting with a former Mossad agent, who by the way, was thought to be dead.”
Young stared at the sheet and scanned the contents rapidly. When finished, he looked up, his mouth slightly agape and his eyes blinking rapidly. “I was unaware of this, Mr. President. I’m sure there is a perfectly sound explanation.”
“I’m sure there is, Director Young.” The sudden formal address caused the DCI pause. He realized this was a serious meeting not a casual conversation.
The President didn’t smile. “I believe you have a larger problem than Reid just slipping away for a few hours. It might be a good idea to find out why an Assistant Director of the CIA is clandestinely meeting with a dead man.”
Now on the defensive, Young straightened in his seat and sat at the edge. “How do we know it was Asa Gerlis? There’s a video of his death. Surely there’s been a mistake in the identity of the individual Reid met with.”
Joseph handed Young two pictures, one from the Seville airport and the other, an older photograph. “Picture on the left was obtained from a friend of mine with the Mossad. The one on the right was taken at the Seville airport three days ago.”
Silence filled the room as the DCI studied the photos. The more he stared, the more his nostrils flared. His attention turned to Joseph. “You were with the agency. What do you think, Joseph?”
“It’s been a while. I could only speculate.”
“I’d be interested in your speculation.”
“I’ve never met Gerald Reid. All I have to go on is his record and what others say about him.”
The DCI glanced at the pictures and then back to Joseph. “Which tells you what?”
“He has his own agenda.”
Griffin said, “Marvin, I think you would agree with me that having an Assistant Director with interest other than the good of the country is not what we need right now.”
There was a slow nod of the DCI’s head as he studied the pictures again. Then, more to himself than the others in the room, he said, “I think I need to have a video analyzed.” He looked up. “Mr. President, I don’t have any answers for you at the moment. Give me a day or two.”
Griffin nodded and Young left the room. Once he was gone, Joseph said, “Do you trust him?”
“Don’t know. Depends on how he handles this.”
The National Security Analysist nodded.
“Joseph, what’s your interest in Reid?”
“When I took this job, Mr. President, I told you I would be truthful and never lie to you.”
Griffin nodded.
“I’ve never lied, but there are pieces of information I’ve not told you.”
“That’s understandable. Go on.”
“Just over two years ago, after Gerlis faked his own death, an individual who did contract work for the agency was targeted by an assassin. There were actually two individuals targeted—the other was a Mossad agent. Both escaped. At one time, this individual was a highly successful overseas operative for the CIA. Because he was very good at what he did, the agency released him and allowed him to do contract work.”
The president frowned. “What did he do, Joseph?”
“His specialty was tracking down known terrorists across Europe and the Middle East and—uh—stopping them from being terrorists anymore.”
The President gave Joseph a sly grin. “Okay.”
“After the incident in Barcelona, his cover was blown and he returned to the States. He now works undercover for the US Marshal service.” Joseph felt bad about the stretching of the truth, but continued, “He’s been instrumental in identifying and stopping numerous individuals planning mass shootings. His effectiveness has prevented a number of these incidents, thus saving hundreds
of lives.”
Griffin smiled. “I see. And you felt it necessary to keep this information from me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is he still active?”
“No, sir.”
“Why?”
“Three men—Reid, the supposedly dead Asa Gerlis and an MI6 agent named Geoffrey Canfield. Gerlis was the control for the Mossad agent and Canfield was our agent’s contact while operating in Europe.”
“Who was the Mossad agent?’
“A woman.”
Griffin raised his eyebrows and displayed a slight grin. “Interesting.”
Joseph nodded.
“I assume names at this point are not important.”
“Not really. For their own protection, neither are currently using their real names.”
“I see.” He paused and tilted his head. “Why is this preventing him from doing his work at the US Marshall Service?”
“Canfield died very suddenly with a heart attack. I knew the man—very healthy, didn’t drink to excess, nor did he smoke. Not long after that, Gerlis stages his own death. As I said, Canfield was our man’s contact and Gerlis was the Mossad agent’s. Then all of a sudden, an attack is made on both of these individuals at the same time. My next question is, why?”
“Sorry, Joseph, I don’t read spy novels.”
“Neither do I, but I believe there’s a connection.”
“Gerald Reid?”
Joseph nodded slowly.
Griffin chuckled. “Since I have a few other things to concentrate on, besides this little spy drama, I’ll let you handle it.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Standing, the president signaled the meeting was over. “Joseph, in the future, don’t forget to tell me about operations like this.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“Good.” The president gave Joseph a sly smile. “I’m glad you’re on my team.” He paused for half of a heartbeat. “One more thing. If you find that Gerald Reid is endangering this country for any reason, I want to be advised immediately.”
“You’ll be the first to know, Mr. President.”
Chapter 23
Table Rock Lake Area, Southwest Missouri
M ichael Wolfe’s phone vibrated with an incoming text message. After glancing at it, he hurried to the bedroom they used as an office to get the laptop ready for an incoming VoIP call.
