Splinter Self

by S L Shelton

  “Of course, John,” I said as I stood and opened the office door. “We’re all friends here.”

  “Good. Then I guess I can tell you I’ve arranged transport out of Gulfport.”

  I stopped and looked back at him.

  He smiled. “It doesn’t hurt having friends at State.”

  “So, Penny’s not really gone either. She just dropped you here and backed off a few hundred yards…maybe with a TAC 50 against her shoulder?”

  He shook his head. “M24…she doesn’t like the weight of the TAC 50.”

  I smiled. “It is pretty heavy, isn’t it?”

  He grinned.

  “So, you thought I might cap you just for showing up.”

  He shrugged. “I saw it as a possibility. Particularly if there were any losses when you took Goughin.”

  “Then I guess it’s a lucky thing everyone lived.”

  A ripple of regret passed over John’s face in microexpressions, then he nodded. “I’ll let you and Mark get to work on Goughin.”

  “Thanks, John,” I said, turning back toward Mark. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Bullshit,” I heard him mutter.

  In the corner of the hangar/warehouse, Mark Gaines had Goughin handcuffed to a metal chair. He’d just started his interrogation. I watched him closely as I approached. He was taking a hard-line of questioning.

  Mark gripped Goughin’s shoulder tightly and leaned close. “Why were you in Panama? What’s in Panama that makes accounting easier than it is in the US?”

  Goughin seemed to be more bored than worried, judging by his eye rolls and sighs of exasperation.

  At least Mark wasn’t slicing the accountant’s balls off and setting him on fire.

  “Do you need some gasoline?” I asked with a grin as I approached.

  Mark jerked his head up with an angry glare. “I’ve got this. Back off.”

  I shook my head then motioned him toward me with my hand. Agitated, he stomped away from Goughin and over to me.

  “What?” he snapped.

  I nodded toward Goughin, then leaned close, whispering in Mark’s ear. “Did you see that contraption the SEALs pulled off of his nut sack?”

  Mark looked over at the table where Braun’s and Goughin’s personal effects sat, bagged and labeled. He looked back and nodded. “Yeah? So?”

  “Did you notice that he has a boner right now?”

  Mark looked over his shoulder as if disgusted with something then looked back to me. “Masochist,” he whispered.

  I nodded. “Masochist.”

  “What now? He’ll just jizz all over us if we start with the waterboarding and beatings.”

  “Pull away from me as if I’ve just told you a secret that exonerates him completely, then go uncuff him.”

  Mark lifted an eyebrow. “Why?”

  “Because when he was ushered down that hallway at the Sheraton in Panama City, the only thing on his face was fear,” I replied, picking up a sheet of paper from the table and showing it to Mark as I nodded toward the accountant.

  Mark looked at the paper—which had nothing to do with Goughin—then back to me, wide-eyed. “He knew Braun was there to kill him,” he whispered

  I nodded and smiled.

  “Oh, shit! Why didn’t we have this information two days ago?” he asked loud enough for Goughin to hear him, then turned and walked back to the prisoner, fumbling in his pocket for the cuff keys. “Mr. Goughin, I’m so sorry.”

  Goughin seemed genuinely confused.

  “On behalf of the FBI and the Justice Department, I just want to convey our deepest regret over your detention. I had no idea that you had been unlawfully detained by Heinrich Braun.”

  Goughin looked at Mark sideways and stood, cautiously, rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had pinched them.

  “Can we provide you with transportation?” Mark asked. “A car to the airport? A flight back to DC?”

  “So, that’s it? You’re just going to let me out of here?”

  “He’s toying with you, you idiot,” Braun said from under his hood.

  “Don’t listen to him, Mr. Goughin,” Mark said, ushering the fragile looking man to the door. “You’re free to go. But please, let us provide a ride, or at least call a taxi.”

  “You’re going nowhere,” Braun yelled across the hangar.

  Mark scoffed and shook his head. “Don’t be afraid of Heinrich Braun, sir. He’s going to prison for a very long time.”

  Goughin paused at the door and opened it a crack, peering out into the darkness. He looked back over his shoulder. “Why the change?”

  I walked over and lowered my voice. “Well, we just discovered the reason Braun was in Panama. A FISA authorized warrant revealed an email between Braun and one of his coconspirators…Collins something.”

  “Phil Collins,” Mark said with a sarcastic grin. “Like the singer…great alias.”

  Goughin furrowed his brow in confusion.

  “We had no idea why he had gone to Panama City, only that he had. But as it turns out he went to abduct and, well, there’s no gentle way to put it, kill you.”

  “I know he was there to kill me! Why are you letting me go? And not putting me in protective custody or something?”

  Mark looked at me then back to Goughin with a puzzled expression on his face. “Well, because we have Braun in custody now.” Mark nodded backward toward Braun in the far corner of the hangar. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

  Goughin let the door close and looked up, first at me then Mark. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Goughin. Is there something else to this incident that we’re not aware of?”

  Goughin wiped his hand across his face and shook his head. “You people are so fucking oblivious. Do you not know who you have over there?”

  Mark looked back toward Braun then back to Goughin. “Heinrich Braun, head of security for Spryte Industries.”

  “No, you idiots,” he said, slapping Mark’s chest. “He’s the groundman for an organization called Combine.”

  Mark and I looked at each other blankly, then shook our heads. “What’s ‘Combine’?”

  Goughin walked back into the hangar, looking for a place to sit, then spotted the office door open. He walked past me and Mark, then glanced at John as he entered the office. John just sat there outside of the office with a smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised high in amusement.

  Mark and I stood there in the middle of the hangar looking confused.

  Goughin stopped and waved us over.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” I said as Mark and I walked into the office.

  Mark closed the door. “Are you saying that’s not Heinrich Braun?”

  Goughin appeared genuinely flustered. “No. I mean yes that’s Braun. But his job with Spryte was only part of his responsibilities. He is head of security, not just for Spryte Industries, but for an organization called Combine.”

  “So, he was spying on Spryte Industries for this Combine outfit?”

  Goughin shook his head and rubbed his face harshly, frustration reaching a crux. “They were so worried you people were breathing right down their necks, and it turns out, you’re all too stupid to even know what you’re up against.”

  I sat down across from Goughin and leaned forward, elbows on knees as I had moments earlier with John. “Tell me. What’s this all about?”

  He plopped down in the office chair as if exhausted. “If you send me out that door, I’ll be dead within a day.”

  “Mr. Goughin. We have Braun in custody for conspiracy to commit murder. He’s not going to be able to hurt you.”

  “Braun is nobody! Spryte was the chairman of the board for Combine and they killed him like you’d swat a fly. Do you think for one second they couldn’t snuff me out just by wishing it?!”

  “Spryte? Chairman of the board?”

  “Look. I work for Prince-Underthall. We manage the accounts for Combine. They have billio
ns of dollars moving in and out of every country on the planet, making payments to operatives, assets, politicians, judges, even news agencies! Braun is just a soldier. They have members of your dead president’s administration in their back pockets!”

  Mark and I looked at each other then he got up and handed Goughin a pad of paper. “If what you’re saying is true, then we’d have to arrange protective custody for you.”

  “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying!”

  I shook my head. “Mark, we need to get Mr. Hood in here. There’s no way he’d let us take information from Mr. Goughin without clearance.”

  “There’s no time for that. They might be on their way to rescue Braun right now,” Goughin said, pleading in his tone.

  “Calm down, Mr. Goughin. Mr. Hood is right outside. He’s the Assistant District Attorney for Southern Mississippi. He’s here to witness our interrogation of Mr. Braun.”

  Goughin looked out the office window. “Ironsides out there?”

  Mark chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. Ironsides out there.”

  “Fine,” Goughin said, pouting. “Hurry up.”

  I stood and left the office, joining John outside on the hangar floor. “How’d you like to be the Assistant District Attorney for Southern Mississippi?”

  He grinned. “Sure you trust me enough?”

  “No,” I said with a dismissive smirk. “But you’re wearing the suit.”

  He laughed. “Sure. What’s my name?”

  “Rodney Hood.”

  He nodded, then looked at Goughin through the window. “What’s he said so far?”

  “That Braun works for Combine, Spryte, who used to be their chairman, was killed by Combine, and that if we let him walk out that door, he’ll be dead within twenty-four hours.”

  “Sooner than that, I’d imagine,” John said with a hard glare at Goughin. “I’m assuming he wants protective custody.”

  I nodded.

  “Okay. I know my part,” he said, rolling toward the office. “Let’s make a deal.”

  I motioned to Storc who ran over to me. “I need a laptop with a VPN and a clean 3G modem.”

  “VPN won’t stop the level of detection we have working against us,” he said, astonished I’d suggest such a thing.

  “I know. But it’s the level of security they’d expect from an account manager at Prince-Underthall.”

  Understanding hit him and he nodded knowingly. “Gotcha. Okay. Give me a minute.”

  As Storc prepared a laptop, John advised Goughin of his Miranda rights. Once they were out of the way, John negotiated a plea deal with the gaslit accountant to hand over all ledgers related to Combine in exchange for complete immunity.

  The only stipulation Goughin demanded was checking the ID of any officer involved with his protective custody against his payoffs list. John hesitated for effect, then granted him the request.

  As soon as Storc arrived with the laptop, Goughin handed over the gold mine, lock, stock, and barrel.

  It took almost an hour to download it all.

  John nodded and winked at me as I closed the laptop and left the office. I took it to Storc and opened it. “So, here’s Combine’s ledgers.”

  He sat back as if struck. “You’re shitting me.”

  I shook my head, grinning. “Think you can find a hundred or so secure sites to copy them to?”

  “Holy shit,” he muttered, scrolling through the detailed spreadsheets. “Is this everyone?”

  “It looks like everyone on the planet. Best check and make sure our names aren’t on there,” I said, then winked at him.

  He laughed and hooked a pocket drive to the computer. “Man. How many lives could we have saved if we’d had this from the beginning?”

  “You can’t think of it like that,” I said with suitable remorse in my tone. “This is just another key in a long line of keys…each opening another part of the puzzle.”

  He nodded, sadness tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I know…but still.”

  “This is it. The endgame,” I said, patting him on the back. “All we have to do is make a list, compare it to available assets, and hand it over.”

  “I hope the death penalty is on the table,” he muttered, his expression turning angry.

  “I’m sure more than a few will meet the hangman,” I said. And a few more won’t make it to trial.

  Combine was toast.

  “Oh! I almost forgot,” Storc said. “I found the forensic reports you asked for.”

  “Ballistics?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Couldn’t find any.”

  “You couldn’t find the ballistics report?”

  “No. They couldn’t. There is a report, but all it says is no fragments found or recorded.”

  I nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Do you need me to keep looking?”

  I shook my head. “No. We’re fine now. Go ahead and set up the rendezvous with the other team.”

  I turned to the SEALs resting around the edges of the hangar. “Pack up. We have to move.”

  As if a switch had been flipped, the SEALs went from lounging to action with not a grumble, complaint, or moan.

  John rolled out of the office and stopped a few feet from the door. I walked over and handed him the flip phone he’d given me. “Go ahead and call in your wheels.”

  He nodded and took the phone. As he punched in the number, he said, “You called that just right…with Goughin.”

  “It’s easy to get information from someone who thinks they know more than you do.”

  He nodded, then looked up as if catching a hidden meaning in my words. I winked at him and walked away.

  A sudden commotion at the back of the hangar caught my attention. I ran toward Seifert, Mark, and Martinez gathered around Braun as Whalen hovered over him on the ground. I heard the gasping and wheezing before I even got close enough to see Braun’s purple face, wide-eyed, grasping at his throat.

  “What happened?!” I yelled, pushing past Seifert and kneeling next to Braun.

  Whalen had his fingers in the old German’s mouth, digging around. “He’s choking on his tongue.”

  I snapped my head around toward Mark.

  He recoiled. “Don’t look at me. I was loading gear.”

  I returned my attention to Braun as his last bubbling, drooling breath passed through his purple lips. “Goddammit, Mark. He was still useful.”

  He stood and glared at me. “I won’t say I’m sorry to see him go, but it wasn’t me. Maybe the old spook knew how to swallow his own tongue. He knew his time was up.”

  I watched his face for signs of deception but found none. I looked around the hangar at the gathering crowd. Storc stood behind his desk watching the commotion, John sat in his chair outside the office on the other side of the large warehouse. The SEAL’s all had gear slung across their shoulders, piling equipment just inside the door, and Kathrin remained sleeping, curled under a blanket in the lounge chair I’d left her in more than an hour earlier.

  I shook my head. “We’re taking him with us,” I said. “Wrap him in a tarp and don’t let anyone near him.”

  Seifert nodded and motioned Martinez and Whalen into action.

  As I turned and walked back toward Storc, Mark stepped beside me. “I didn’t do it.”

  I nodded. “Okay. You didn’t do it.”

  “I wish I had, after everything that bastard put us through.”

  I sighed in frustration. I wouldn’t have blamed Mark for doing it. Braun had been responsible for the deaths of his entire family. But he’d been responsible for the deaths of my family, too—my TravTech family, and my CIA family. But despite what should have been a remorseless loss, I couldn’t help but feel we’d lost another key to our puzzle.

  There were no Combine members on the ledgers Goughin had delivered to us—only recipients of funds. Those were the first names I looked for; BeauLac, Loukis, Collins, Harp, all missing from the ledgers. Braun had still been our best hope of getting a complete
list of Combine names. And now he was being wrapped in a sheet of plastic, looking like an overripe plum.

  “Fuck my life,” I muttered.

  **

  At nearly five o’clock in the morning, the air remained sticky and heavy. We sat outside the back gate at Gulfport-Biloxi International Airport in three SUVs. John and I scanned the names of everyone who had arrived with him on the State Department leased Bombardier CRJ200.

  The ground crew had just finished refueling the jet when he looked up and smiled. “We’re all clear. No one from the ledgers is on the plane.”

  I nodded. “Let’s hope the ledgers cover the spectrum.”

  “Well it’s a big list, so even if it’s not complete, it’s a damned good start.”

  John’s phone chimed. He opened it and read the text. “They’re ready for us. They’ve logged BWI as their destination. We can change it once we’re off the ground.”

  I clicked my mic open. “Okay. We’re moving. Get everyone on board fast, Tin Star and Piper, you have the back door. Don’t let anyone sneak up on us.”

  “Roger.”

  “Roger, that,” they replied.

  We rolled up to the plane and got out carrying our equipment. With one arm around Kathrin’s waist for support and half of Storc’s computers across my other shoulder, if anyone opened fire on us, I’d have a hell of a time getting to my weapon.

  Inside, three black-suited men stood in the doorway, compact machine pistols slung tightly from their shoulders. I tensed as I walked by, worried the list had lied to us and I was about to take a bullet to the back of my head.

  When that turned out to be nothing but paranoia, I lowered Kathrin into a seat near the middle of the plane and stowed the computer equipment overhead.

  I made my way past the others as they crowded aboard and found seats. Whalen and Ensign Thompson escorted Goughin to the back of the plane as I waited for Mark to carry John up the stairs. Storc followed behind with three cases of computer equipment, looking winded and tired.

  “Can I sleep on the way?” he asked as he reached the top.

  I nodded. “Give me the laptop with our evidence then go get settled in,” I said, nodding back down the aisle. “Kathrin’s about halfway back. Why don’t you sit with her so she’s not alone?”