by S L Shelton
He unslung one of the cases and handed it to me. “This one has everything we had up to tonight. There’s a pocket drive is in the side pouch with the ledgers.”
“Did you get it all backed up off-site?”
He nodded. “Twenty sites. I’ll do more when we have some stable broadband.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “You are most definitely the man.”
He shot me a tired, crooked grin as he turned down the aisle. “No…you.”
Seifert came up the stairs in front of Penny Rhodes who had her Remington M24 slung over her shoulder. When she reached the top of the stairs, she winked at me.
“I’ll send Mark back after we do the briefing so you two can catch up,” I said with a smirk.
She lifted her eyebrows in mock surprise. “Who?”
“Whatever.”
“You’re welcome, by the way,” she said as she stepped past me.
“For not shooting me between the shoulder blades? Yeah. Thanks for that.”
She rolled her eyes and took a seat near the first class divider, dropping her shooter bag in the seat next to her.
I clicked my mic open. “Tin Star, Piper, we’re all on. Bring it in.”
“Roger that.”
I watched as they ran toward the plane, their attention still on the back gate. As soon as they boarded, one of the suited armed security men closed the door. Another picked up the phone. “They’re all on. We can go.”
After hanging up the phone, he pulled the curtain aside and ushered me into the first class section. Inside, black suits dotted the space with their attention focused out the windows, and John and Mark sat opposite a smallish blonde woman and three others.
John waved me over. “I don’t think you’ve ever been formally introduced,” he said as she stood and turned toward me. “Madam Secretary, this is Scott Wolfe.”
She smiled and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Scott. I’m sorry I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you until now for saving my life in Switzerland.”
“Team effort, Madam Secretary,” I replied.
She nodded with a knowing smile. “And you have no idea how pleased I am that you aren’t a traitor.” She leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “That could have been embarrassing.”
Despite her tone-deaf confession, I smiled and nodded. The woman just put her neck on the line to join the resistance. I wasn’t going to nitpick her choice of words.
She sat as I pulled out the laptop and pocket drive that Storc had given me. “I’m not sure if this covers the entire spectrum, but with so many names, it’ll take the government years to compile these into criminal cases.”
She put her hand up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have a new president and we don’t know anything about how he might deal with this. We’ve known there was a dirty block of influence for a long time. We haven’t ever been able to nail anything down.”
I looked at John. “You didn’t tell her?”
“No. Hadn’t had a chance yet.”
“Tell me what?” The Secretary asked.
“Madam Secretary, the President isn’t dead. Another part of our team was there to intercede and got him off of Air Force One before it crashed.”
Her mouth and eyes grew so wide, it would have been easy to assume she’d just been goosed in the seat of her yellow pantsuit. “Not dead? You’ve had contact?”
“With the team. Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head in genuine astonishment. “Why hasn’t this been made public?”
I held up the laptop. “Over ten thousand regularly scheduled payoffs to politicians, judges, members of congress, business leaders, union leaders, members of the press…all in key positions with high-levels of covert and illegal activity from their offices and all stretching back more than twenty years.”
She looked at the laptop then back to me. “There’s evidence?”
I nodded. “Certified by one of the big four accounting firms, and supported by FISA court-warranted bank and communications surveillance.”
“Where’s the President?” She asked.
“Ready to meet us. I just have to tell the captain where to land.”
She nodded. “Do it. If we have him, and the evidence, nothing short of civil war could stop us from cutting out this cancer.”
I went forward and knocked on the cabin door. A uniformed Air Force officer opened the door. “I’m supposed to tell you where we’re headed.”
He looked at the Secretary, who nodded at him. “Sure thing. Where’re we headed?”
“Leesburg Executive Airport…just west of Dulles.”
He turned around, chatting briefly with the pilot on copilot. When he returned he nodded. “No problem. The runway’s big enough for us.”
I know. That’s why I picked it. “Great. Do we have an ETA?”
He turned behind him again and checked over the copilot’s shoulder. “Ten thirty their time,” he said. “Ballpark. We lose an hour going that way.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I turned and walked past John and the Secretary. “I have to update the other team about our arrival time. I’ll be right back.”
I didn’t wait for acknowledgment as I pushed through the curtain and walked back to Storc who was already sleeping soundly. Kathrin lay curled up in her seat, her head against the window.
I shook Storc gently and his eyes opened. “There already?”
“No. But I need you to send a message to the others. We’ll be arriving in Leesburg around ten thirty their time.”
He nodded, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he pulled one of his cases from under the seat in front of him.
“Once you get confirmation, I won’t bother you again until we’re ready to land.”
“It’s fine,” he replied. “I’m getting used to no sleep.”
I patted him on the shoulder then looked longingly at Kathrin for a moment before returning to the front. I sat next to John who’d already pulled up the ledgers Goughin had given us.
“Finding clean officers isn’t going to be as hard as getting word to them,” John said. “Even if we have the names, we still have to communicate with them without giving ourselves away.”
I nodded. “If I’m right, and we’ll have to confirm it once we’re on the ground with the President, this is going to be done out in the open for everyone to see.”
The Secretary and John shared a tense look.
“He’s right you know. This president won’t accept secret courts and midnight assassinations as the solution to our problems,” the Secretary said quietly. Her microexpressions exhibited both annoyance and admiration.
John sighed. “Yeah. We’ve had discussions like this in the past. He’ll be very public with any response.”
I nodded. “That takes the heat off trying to arrange a simultaneous covert ten thousand target takedown.”
“Well when you put it that way, it makes sense,” the Secretary said.
It made sense the other way too. Too bad you didn’t see that.
John must have sensed the tension building. “Alright. Well, that does make our jobs easier. But we still have to generate a strategic list of untainted players we know we can rely on to lead the arrests and indictments.”
I took the laptop from John and started a clean database table. “Start by department. I’ll do the cross-referencing as we go.”
John smiled and leaned toward the Secretary. “Did I mention he’s part computer?”
I smiled at the comment, but in the back of my mind, I wondered what they would think if I told them I couldn’t remember saving the Secretary of State—or ever being in Switzerland.
I hope I haven’t forgotten anything else that could get us killed today.
**
8:15 a.m. — Dulles Greenway, Ashburn, Virginia
PAYDEN DANIELS, Attorney General of the United States, read his morning update of pending cases and District Attorney assignments, sitting in th
e back seat of his government SUV. With his attention on the reports, several minutes had gone by before he noticed something was odd about his trip into DC this morning.
He looked up and realized the sun was on the wrong side of his vehicle.
“Paul. Where are we?” he asked, setting his folder aside.
His Secret Service assigned driver looked in the rearview mirror. “There’s a safety and security concern and we had to detour.”
Daniels tipped his head to the side, then nodded. “Okay. How much of a delay?”
“I’m not sure, sir. We’ll know more in a few minutes.”
He grabbed his folder and was about to open it again when he looked up once more. “What sort of ‘safety and security concern’?”
The driver looked in the rearview mirror. “I’m not sure, sir. Agent Rodrigo is in the lead vehicle. Do you want me to call and find out?”
Daniels shook his head. “No. Just don’t hold me up too long. I have a meeting with the FBI director this morning.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll do what we can.”
Daniels nodded and returned his attention to his reports.
In a matter of minutes, the SUV exited the toll road and veered onto Battlefield Parkway. For a moment, Daniels thought the detour had been resolved and they were returning to the Greenway in the right direction. Instead, they drove north and turned right on Sycolin Road.
“Is this part of the detour?” he asked.
Paul looked up again. “Yes, sir. We’ll be sorted out in a minute.”
Daniel nodded again though this turn seemed too illogical. Tension filled his chest when he saw his lead vehicle turn right once more into the Leesburg Regional Airport.
“Paul. Am I in danger?” he asked his longtime Secret Service companion.
Paul chuckled. “No, sir. We’re meeting with another detail to sort this out.”
“Sort what out?” Daniels asked, fear gripping his gut to the point of sending a quiver through his voice.
“It’s a security concern. That’s all they gave us. Don’t worry sir, I’m still here to protect you.”
The lead vehicle passed through the gate without stopping, ushered by suited men. His driver followed on their tail, then wound around behind the hangars that had lined the road in their approach.
They stopped next to an RV on the sheltered side of the runway, nestled between hangars and a windbreak. The driver got out and walked over to the lead vehicle just as two men came out of the RV. Hard men—rugged in appearance and carriage.
His driver chatted with them briefly then returned to the SUV, opening the back door for Daniels. “This way, sir,” he said, smiling, politely ushering Daniels with his hand.
Daniels remained. “What’s going on, Paul?”
“There’s a safety and security issue. You need to be briefed.”
“Why don’t you brief me right here?”
Paul’s smiled turned hard, his lips pressed tightly together. “Sir. I’m going to have to ask you to exit the vehicle.”
Daniels’s heart beat faster. A ringing in his ears and a sudden dizziness made him feel as if he’d slipped into a dream. This can’t be happening. I did everything they told me to.
“Sir.”
He nodded in resignation and stepped out, reaching behind him for his phone on the seat.
“You won’t need that, sir. You can leave it there,” Paul said.
His eyes watered, seemingly sucking moisture from his mouth, as he could no longer swallow past the lump forming in his throat.
As he rounded the front of his vehicle, another man emerged from the RV. He recognized him as being one of the President’s protection detail, but couldn’t remember his name.
Wait! Wasn’t the President’s detail killed on Air Force One?
“Do you have any weapons or communications devices on you, sir?” the familiar agent asked.
Daniels glanced at the two hard men, the two who stood there with hate and murder in their eyes, visible even through their false smiles.
He shook his head. “No. My phone is in the—” he turned to point at the SUV when the man began patting him down.
Daniels accepted his fate and didn’t resist. It was the first time he’d been patted down since he was a punk kid on the streets of Philadelphia. Mixed race and dark-skinned kids always got more attention from the cops. Then, like now, he simply accepted it as an unavoidable reality—but for very different reasons.
“This way, sir,” the new agent said, waving his hand forward.
Daniels stepped into the RV, half expecting a bullet to his head as soon as the door closed. Instead, a gentle nudge on his back from the agent guided him through the narrow hallway to the back of the bus-sized vehicle.
Standing in the doorway, another hard-looking man with death in his eyes smiled and nodded, stepping aside as Daniels neared.
He entered and felt as if he’d hit a brick wall. His president and longtime friend sat on the edge of the bed in a ragged-looking suit.
“Hello, Payden,” the President said.
Dizzy, his knees became weak, and the man next to him actually reached out to hold Daniels up.
“You’re alive!” Genuine relief and joy rose in his chest as he moved toward his friend.
The man who had grabbed him, yanked him back toward the door. “You’re fine doing your greetings from this distance,” he said, gripping Daniel’s arm tightly.
“How…? How did you escape?”
“It helps to have good people around you,” the President said, then winced as he adjusted his position.
“You’re injured,” he said, stepping toward the President again, only to be yanked backward once more. “What’s going on? Why am I being treated like a threat?”
The President settled himself against the headboard, flinching and groaning in pain through the entire motion. “We’re going to have a conversation about what’s been going on with our government for the past few years. In this conversation, there are some things that I already know and some things that I don’t,” he pointed at Daniels. “You won’t know which.”
Daniels shook his head. “Sir, I don’t want—”
“Quiet!” the President snapped.
It was the first time Daniels had ever seen rage on his friend’s face. He nodded.
“You won’t know which questions I already have an answer to…it’s more than you may think,” the President said, relaxing a tick. “So, we’re going to attempt to have an honest conversation.”
Daniels nodded.
“One lie, and we’re done.”
He nodded again.
The President smiled falsely, his lips pressed tightly. “Alright then. First question; did you know there was video of the individuals who bombed CIA headquarters in Langley?”
“No,” Daniels replied. “But I was told by Homeland Security and NSA that due to their internal investigation, there remained evidence that couldn’t come to light.”
The President nodded. “Okay, I’ll accept that for the moment. How did you get that communication from DHS and the NSA?”
“Your Chief of Staff hand delivered it to me.”
The president stared at him for a moment, then, “Why did you shut down the investigation to the bribe money being fed through international banks?”
Daniels felt as if his heart had stopped in his chest. “Sir, I…I just…”
“Be very careful of your next words, Payden.”
“I’ve committed a crime against the nation, and I will accept any outcome you deem fit,” Daniels said, surprised at the confidence he projected in his tone.
In his peripheral vision, he saw the man by the door reach behind his back. I’m going to die, right here, right now.
Instead, the man produced an iPad, handing it to the President.
The President flicked his fingers across the screen then turned it to show Daniels. “I’ve known you for decades. I can’t imagine you knew the depth of what you had been invol
ved with,” the President said, tapping on the image of the man stacking boxes on the prone figure of CIA Director Matthew Burgess. “But this man here was the new head of my security detail. Transferred from DHS, after being hired directly from Baynebridge Security, and appointed by my Chief of Staff.”
Daniels shook in fear and anger. The horror that had occurred, and he’d been an active participant. Had he known—
“Sir, I had no idea. If I had I would have ordered a complete lockdown—”
The President held up his hand. “What was your crime against this nation?”
He dropped his head. “Maggy, sir. She…she…”
The President had known his daughter since she was born. She had been such a bright girl, so sweet. Then had taken a darker turn when Daniels was appointed Attorney General.
“She got into trouble,” the President said, knowingly.
Daniels nodded. “She disappeared for weeks in her junior year. When she surfaced again, it was a midnight call from someone…I never knew who. The police had found her strung out, behind the wheel of a stolen car that had smashed into some kids on a street corner.”
“Did the police contact you?”
Daniels shook his head. “The caller said that they had hidden her identity from police and had her moved to a treatment facility.”
“I’m assuming this wasn’t a selfless charitable act.”
“No, sir. They told me I’d be contacted if the need ever arose,” he said, tears welling up in his eyes. “They kept her under an assumed name, paid for the treatments, got her clean, then brought her home.”
“The pneumonia scare,” the President said.
Daniels nodded again. “It was a thin cover story, but since no one was looking for her, it was easy enough to perpetrate.”
“What did it cost you?”
“Three months ago, I was approached by William Spryte. He told me that the investigations into the foreign accounts were harming US interests,” he paused, feeling faint again. “Can I sit?”
The President looked at the man next to Daniels and nodded. “It’s okay, Nick.”
“Yes, sir,” Nick replied and pushed a small chair toward him from the corner.
Daniels sat and nodded. “Thank you.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then leaned forward. “I told him he’d have to go through the courts. But then he pulled out photographs of Maggy…disgusting, horrifying photos that no father should ever have to see. Then he handed me a copy of the fingerprints file attached to the photos of the crash scene, those three kids’ bodies, folded up like ground beef, skin hanging from their wounds.”
