by J. C. Fields
Progress was slow as he continuously checked for tripwires and other booby traps. He found none.
Two hours later, from his position within the tree line on the southeastern side of his property, Wolfe surveyed the entrance to his underground home with his Nikon 12x50 binoculars. He observed nothing out of the ordinary. With all the resources Reid used to find this particular spot, Wolfe would not assume they left it untouched.
He used the binoculars to survey the western tree line and caught sunlight reflecting off an object alien to his property. Focusing on the location of the reflection, he smiled to himself. A not-so-well-hidden GoPro camera powered by a solar panel. With the assumption it was motion-sensor activated, he proceeded to look for others.
Using the position of the camera on the west side, he estimated where one might be on the east side. Five minutes later, he spotted it. Wolfe sighted in on the western camera with his Remington 700 and dispatched it with one shot. He repeated the process on the eastern one. Concern about anyone hearing the rifle shots never crossed his mind—his property was too remote.
Wolfe approached the front entrance of his home with caution as he looked for trip wires or any other booby traps. The door looked untouched and after examining all four sides, he unlocked it and barely opened it. Extracting a small Maglite from a utility pocket, he quickly searched the opening looking for any thin wires. He found none.
The software on the security monitor only allowed anyone opening the front door thirty seconds to disarm the unit. He hurried to the main control panel in the kitchen and entered the proper code to disengage the system. Once this was done, he turned to scrutinize his long-time home. A sense of peace swept over him as he surveyed the interior.
Except for the slight musty smell and a chill, the house appeared untouched since the last time he and Nadia were here. He checked several markers, left in random locations, to see if anyone had opened a door or looked in a cabinet. All were in place.
Satisfied with the knowledge no one had gained entry to his home, he turned up the heat pump and went upstairs to the bedroom he used for his office. Since the security system was powered by solar energy, Wolfe never turned it off. He activated the monitor and proceeded to review various videos recorded by the numerous cameras around his home.
Because the cameras were activated by motion, the majority of the clips were of deer and other such creatures whose habitat surrounded his house. He found the recording of man driving a Jeep Wrangler within a few yards of his front door. He checked the time stamp, made a mental note and continued to watch.
The guy spent nearly an hour walking the perimeter of the house—looking for access points, Wolfe assumed. The clip ended as the man drove out of camera range to the south. The next clip showed the man returning and placing the two GoPro cameras he had dispatched in the tree lines facing the front entrance. As expected, the man then headed to the northern side of his home. Wolfe’s security cameras followed as he placed two additional cameras within the tree line next to the access road. He finally returned to the Jeep and drove south and out of camera range.
He frowned as he tapped his finger on his lips. Wolfe replayed the video of the man placing the two cameras on the northern side of the house. He froze the video and zoomed in on the intruder.
As expected, he did not recognize him. He downloaded several still frames to a file on his security system and sent Nadia a text message with his phone. She was to avoid entering the property from the north. He had plans for the two remaining cameras.
“His name is Gregg Simpson. He’s been with the agency less than a year, working for Gerald Reid.”
“You mean worked for Reid, don’t you, Joseph?”
“Yes, sorry, wrong tense. Where did the picture come from?”
“Security camera on my property. He was here while we were away. Any idea of where he might be?”
“I haven’t inquired yet.”
Wolfe was silent for several moments. “Who else would know he was snooping around my property besides Reid?”
“Probably Reid’s assistant, Kendra Burges.”
“Where is she?”
“Last I heard, she was transferred to the New Zealand embassy.”
“That’s one way to tell her she screwed up.”
Joseph chuckled. “There are others, but this was meant as a teachable moment.”
“Okay, I’m not flying to New Zealand. See if you can locate this Simpson person.”
“I’ll put my assistant on it.”
Jerry Griggs looked up from his laptop when Joseph stopped in front of his desk. “Please tell me you’re giving me the rest of the day off.”
“On the contrary, I need you to do something for me.”
“Is it legal?”
“Yes.”
“Shoot, I was hoping for jail time to get out of this drudgery.”
Joseph smiled. “I need you to find out where a CIA operative named Gregg Simpson is stationed.”
A slight grin appeared on Griggs’ lips. “At least when you ask me to do something for you, it’s fun. What’s he done?”
“He’s been a naughty boy running an op inside the US.”
The grin on Griggs’ lips broadened. “Oh, dear. On whose orders?”
“Gerald Reid.”
“Tsk, tsk. I hate it when my ex-comrades do stupid things.”
Joseph took on a grave expression. “Jerry, I need you to do this with the utmost discretion.”
The grin disappeared. “Okay, I won’t ask why.”
“Probably best.”
“When do you need to know?”
“Yesterday.”
Griggs grinned again, closed his laptop and stood. “I’m taking the rest of the day off, boss.”
“Good, see you in the morning.”
Both sets of Jerry’s grandparents were sharecroppers from Alabama. However, his father and mother were the first generation from either family to graduate from college. His father retired from the army after twenty years and reaching the rank of major in the army. Afterward, he became the administrator of a small school system outside the city limits of Nashville. Jerry’s mother taught at a high school in Nashville and over the years won various national teaching awards. The oldest of four children, Jerry dreamed of playing professional basketball.
He’d missed getting a basketball scholarship to a Division I team by three inches. At six-foot-two and above average skills, he had been heavily pursued by Division II teams. But his heart was set on a Division 1 team. When his hometown school of Vanderbilt failed to come calling, he’d followed his father’s footsteps and signed up with the Army, eventually becoming a Ranger. After the challenges he faced in the military, earning a degree at Vanderbilt was a snap and he graduated summa cum laude. During those years, he met his future wife Colleen.
With his military background and stellar grades, he caught the attention of a CIA recruiter named Joseph Kincaid. The rest, as they say, is history. He spent a decade overseas in some of the hottest locations the CIA could send you. Afterward, the then-forty-year-old ex-Ranger came home to a desk job and preceded to get reacquainted with his wife and two daughters.
Now after three years as an analyst at CIA’s Langley Headquarters, Jerry jumped at the opportunity to be the assistant for the newly appointed National Security Advisor Joseph Kincaid
The bar resided in a less-than-desirable part of Washington, DC. A draft of generic beer sat on the greasy tabletop of the dark corner booth he occupied. His eyes continuously swept the denizens of the room as he waited for an individual to join him.
His wait occupied thirty minutes of his life before his contact opened the bar’s front door. After stepping inside, he watched her hesitate as her vision adjusted to the smoky darkness. It took several moments for her to locate him, but she moved quickly toward the booth and slid in across from him.
“Where in the hell did you find this place, Jerry?”
“Google Earth.”
She looked around the dark room and at the other patrons. “Charming.”
He shrugged.
“How’s the rarified air within the White House?”
“Stale. I saw a cockroach this morning.”
She chuckled. “Regrets?”
“None.”
“Good. Why the invitation?”
“I need information.”
“You’ll have to buy me a drink first, sailor.”
“Not if you’re going to insult me.”
Carla Webb smiled. Her white teeth contrasted with her dark skin in the dim light of the bar. Pencil thin with short curly hair, she’d celebrated her tenth anniversary with the agency just before Griggs had left for the White House. She pointed at his glass. “What’re you having?”
“Not sure. I ordered beer, but I don’t think that’s what I got.”
“You always loved to complain. I’ll have what you’re having.”
He looked at the bar and raised his glass. When he gained the bartender’s attention, he nodded in Carla’s direction.
She grinned as she gazed around the room. “I’ll have to take a shower after I get home.”
“Gripe, gripe, gripe.”
As a waitress breezed by, she deposited a glass of foaming liquid in front of Carla. After taking a sip, she grimaced. “Better than what we had in Kabul, but not by much.”
Griggs smiled. After she set the beer down, he said, “Do you know a guy named Gregg Simpson?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Great nonverbal answer, Carla. Where is he?”
“Who wants to know?”
Griggs took a pull of his beer but did not respond.
Webb stared hard at Giggs as she took another gulp of beer and grimaced again. She locked eyes with him. “Tell me who wants to know or I walk.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Inquiring minds.”
“Not good enough.”
His perpetual smile disappeared and he leaned forward. “Mr. Simpson’s been a naughty boy and my boss is not happy.”
“I’m not surprised. From what I hear there are more than a few higher-ups unhappy with Mr. Simpson.”
“How so?”
“He fell into the orbit of Gerard Reid. Not a wise career decision, as it turned out.”
“Where is he?”
She smiled and sipped her beer. “What do I get if I tell you?”
“The undying gratitude of your country.”
With a shake of her head and a chuckle, she said, “You’re so full of shit.” She took another drink and paused. “He’s in timeout. Assigned to a desk at Langley from midnight to eight.”
“What department?”
“Pacific Rim.”
“What’s he doing there?”
She shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”
With a smile, Griggs nodded. “Okay, sorry I asked.”
“You should be.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
Tilting her head, she gave him an are-you-kidding-me look. “He’s not my type.”
“Sorry. Wrong question. How would I find out where he lives?”
She shook her head. “How long have you been gone?”
He chuckled and took another pull from his beer. “Touché. Guess I’m getting lazy.”
“Sounds like it.”
He stood and threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table. “Hate to drink and run, but the boss won’t like it if I come back empty handed.”
She watched as he exited the bar. With a shrug, she finished her beer and departed as well.
Chapter 37
Washington, DC
The Next Day
H e lives in an apartment complex in New Carrollton, Maryland. Works midnight to eight at Langley. My source tells me he’s having to redeem himself after all the stunts he pulled working for Reid.”
Joseph nodded, looking up at his assistant standing in front of his desk. He remained quiet as he listened to the recounting of the previous evening.
“If you ask me, he’s really not cut out for this line of work.”
Joseph tilted his head. “Why do you say that?”
“I found his address on Facebook.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Nope, wish I was. I drove by his place last night. If anyone is looking for him, they won’t have a difficult time doing it. Not sure where they found this guy, but they need to rethink their recruiting skills.”
With a sly smile, Joseph said, “Thank you for doing this, Jerry.”
“Not a problem. Reminded me of why I took this job. I now get to associate with a higher class of creeps.” He grinned, turned and left the NSA’s office for his own.
Unconsciously tapping a pen on his desk, Joseph pinched his lips. Frustration set in as he realized, even thought he was the National Security Adviser, his position no longer allowed him to do anything about someone like Gregg Simpson. Plus, he did not want to draw too much attention to his interest in the man. Utilizing Jerry was about as far as he could go within the ranks of government without raising eyebrows. He glanced at his watch. Within the next twenty minutes, another busy day at the White House would begin.
After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he realized he would need a little more time to think about his next steps.
The Next Day
New Carrollton Police Officer Marci Newton noticed a glow in the sky above the tree line while patrolling one of the city’s many residential sections. The time approached one a.m. and her first fear was a house fire. She accelerated the Dodge Charger Pursuit toward the glow.
As she approached the fire, her worst fears were realized. She keyed the mic on her radio and said. “I have a fully-engaged fire at the New Madrid apartment complex. Alert FD and send back up.” She screeched the car to a halt and ran toward the building to help with the evacuation of residents.
Three hours later, with the fire extinguished, one of the firemen rushed out of the building and approached his supervisor. New Carrollton FD Captain Harold Mendez turned to the younger man as he approached. “What’ve you got, Jesse?”
“Got a body on the second floor, Cap.”
“Smoke inhalation?”
The expression on the soot-covered face of the rookie fireman told the Captain it wasn’t.
“No, sir. Looks like it’s where the fire started.”
Jerry quietly leaned against the doorframe with his arms cross as he watched Joseph read the multiple pages just laid on his desk. The older man removed his glasses and looked up at him.
“How did you find this out?”
“I heard about the fire at the apartment complex this morning on my way to work. The address sounded familiar so when I got here, I started making calls.” He pointed toward the papers. “I received those in an email ten minutes ago.”
Joseph pushed his chair away from his desk, removed his glasses and leaned back. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, Gregg Simpson doesn’t show up for work last night. He’s later found burned to death in his apartment with four of his fingers cut off.” Opening his eyes, he looked up at his assistant. “What does that tell us, Jerry?”
“Simpson knew or had something someone wanted and apparently didn’t tell that someone fast enough.”
Joseph leaned forward and picked up a single sheet of paper. “Kendra Burges was found in her apartment beaten and barely clinging to life in Wellington, New Zealand. Both of these people worked directly for Gerald Reid, who was murdered on the streets of Barcelona.”
Griggs nodded, “Care to tell me what all this means, boss?”
“It means someone is tying up loose ends left by Gerald Reid.”
“Who’s the someone?”
Smiling, Joseph didn’t answer right away. Griggs titled his head. “Really, Joseph? After all these years?”
With a sigh, the older man folded his hands on the desk. “Come in and close the door.”
>
Wolfe stood under the overhang outside his front door sipping coffee. The sun, not yet over the horizon, exposed the open field to the south in the soft glow of early dawn. Birds in the densely-wooded land to the east and west, serenaded the approaching daylight. A soft breeze out of the southwest carried the fragrance of dew-covered grass. Moments like this were the reason he stayed on this property. It was his oasis. Far from the chaos created by greedy businessmen, clueless politicians and power-grabbing despots. Now someone was on their way to bring disorder to his small out-of-the-way retreat.
Nadia wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his back. “Do you think he will come?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
They were quiet for a while. “I love this time of day here, Michael. It is so peaceful.”
“Yes.”
Another period of silence passed between them as he sipped his coffee and enjoyed her presence.
She said. “What did Joseph tell you last night? You were quiet afterwards.”
“The man we saw in our security videos was found burned to death in his apartment yesterday. Before being set on fire, someone cut off four of his fingers.”
Nadia remained silent and tightened her embrace.
He continued. “It was El Sombra.”
“How do you know?”
He paused and turned to put his arm around her. “Reid’s assistant, Kendra Burges, was attacked also. Joseph didn’t know her current condition, but she’d been beaten and raped.”
“Could it be a coincidence?”
He shook his head. “No, it was him. He’s done this before. Apparently, he likes it.”
She took a deep breath. “Are we ready for him?”
Shrugging, Wolfe stared back out toward the south. “Without knowing when or how, we’re as ready as possible.”
Nodding, she remained quiet.
