by Mark Nolan
Jake responded with his own code. He made no move to turn and look behind him. He knew who was sitting there. Brinkter was the absolute most sneaky, deceptive, conniving and dangerous covert spy he'd ever met. Jake respected the man’s skills, but he felt that the two of them had unfinished business. There was bad blood between them, a grudge to be settled, with their fists if necessary. He was glad that Brinkter was here. Now he could punch him in the face. “Hello Brinkter, how’s your sphincter?”
Brinkter lowered his pistol. “Don’t worry Wolfe, that bit of fun was just for old time’s sake. I mean no harm to my former field operations officer.”
“Did you mean no harm that time you abandoned me in the desert and left me there to die? Our military never leaves anyone behind. I guess you missed that briefing.”
“That was simply an unfortunate mix-up in communications.”
“Why are you here? Where are we going?”
“I’m only here in an advisory capacity because you know me from the past. Easton has been ordered to bring you to a local safe house for a meeting.”
“I already told Easton I’d go along peaceably. You can tell the woman next to you to take her finger off of the trigger of that pistol.”
Brinkter looked to his left and saw the Secret Service agent in the seat next to him taking her finger off the trigger of her weapon.
“I see you’re still able to charm the ladies,” Brinkter said.
Jake shrugged his shoulders. “No charm involved. She's just acting like a professional. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
The woman said, “You never looked at me. Your eyes were facing forward as you talked. How did you see the pistol?”
Jake continued facing the windshield. “When I opened and closed the car door I saw your reflection for a moment on the inside of the door’s window glass.”
“The interior of the vehicle was dark. The overhead light was off.”
“Even though your pistol is black, I saw it clearly while you held it in front of your white blouse.”
“Not bad for a civilian. Or should I say, not bad for the Trouble Shooter.”
Jake slowly turned and looked directly at her for the first time. “Who told you that name?”
“A little birdie told me.”
“And what’s your name?”
“Agent Greene.”
“Nice to meet you Greene. You and your little birdie must have high-security clearances.”
“Higher than yours.”
“Are you sure about that?” Jake turned and faced forward again.
A look of doubt crossed Greene’s face. She sat there and thought about what she’d read in Jake’s top secret military file. The parts of it that she’d been allowed to see so far. She was curious to learn more about the dangerous man with the mysterious past.
Chapter 99
Ivan Zhukov sat in his car and watched the FBI building through binoculars. He’d been hoping that Wolfe and his lawyer would leave together. It would’ve made it easy for him to follow the lawyer’s car and put a bullet into Wolfe’s brain. He might have to shoot Bartholomew too. But that would just be another dead lawyer to add a notch on his belt.
However, Bartholomew had left the building with Sarah Chance instead of Wolfe. She was the veterinarian he’d heard about as he listened to the SFPD frequency on his phone’s police scanner app.
Soon after Bartholomew left, Wolfe appeared with a serious looking man in a well-cut suit. They both got into a black SUV. Zhukov felt tempted to take a shot at Wolfe as he got into the vehicle, but there was not a clear line of fire. And he’d never be able to escape afterward. Not if he fired a weapon anywhere near the FBI building.
The Suburban drove away, and Zhukov followed from a discreet distance. The man driving the vehicle ahead of him gave no indication that he knew he was being tailed. The SUV cruised along at the designated speed limit and didn’t take very many turns. At one point the Suburban stopped at a light, with a few cars separating it from Zhukov’s car. Just as a garbage truck began slowly entering the intersection, the SUV jumped the red light and shot forward, passing in front of the truck. Once the SUV was across the street, the garbage truck rolled forward and came to a stop, blocking the intersection. The driver got out and popped the hood, as if he had engine trouble.
Zhukov was stuck between two cars and he couldn’t see past the large garbage truck. He had no idea where the SUV was going. He cursed and thought that he had to hand it to the guy driving the SUV. That man knew how to take precautions. The driver might have noticed a vehicle following him, or he might just be using an evasive maneuver according to standard operating procedure.
Zhukov got out of his car and ran up to the intersection. He got there just in time to see the SUV take a right turn at the end of the block. He ran back to his car and told the driver in the car behind him to back up. The man just shook his head behind his car window and went back to talking on his phone. Zhukov pointed his pistol at the man’s face and said to back up or die. The man panicked and moved his car in a hurry. Zhukov got into his vehicle, backed up and then drove up onto the sidewalk. He bypassed the cars in front of him and turned right on the cross street.
As he drove in the direction the SUV had been going, he conducted a search pattern but the vehicle was nowhere in sight. He stopped at every cross street and looked both ways, running red lights and weaving around slow moving cars. But it was no use. The driver of the SUV was a professional and had taken evasive maneuvers. Wolfe had escaped. Zhukov now had to consider other options.
Perhaps he would have a word with that veterinarian woman. She might have some idea of where that SUV was going. Or maybe he could use her as bait to get Wolfe to come to him. It was time to call his computer hacker and find out where Sarah Chance lived. He would pay her a surprise nighttime visit. He hoped Sarah had some vodka in her liquor cabinet. Interrogating people was such thirsty work.
Chapter 100
Easton drove an evasive route through the city and arrived at the safe house. He parked inside the three-car garage of a home on a large property. The automatic garage door closed and the passengers exited the vehicle. Easton led the way through a door that opened into the house.
Jake stopped and said to Greene, “Ladies first.”
Greene motioned for him to go ahead and she said, “Yes, by all means.”
Jake smiled and stepped through the door. “Age before beauty.”
Greene ignored the flattery. Jake’s file said that he was a smooth talker. The file also revealed he’d been trained by the CIA to kill a person with a fist, a ballpoint pen, a belt, a credit card, a toothbrush, an electrical cord, a chair leg, a car key, a beer bottle, and all kinds of other items. She knew that not long ago Jake had been one of the top animals in the jungle food chain. He had killed the killers and terrorized the terrorists, and he’d saved a lot of innocent lives by doing it. He’d also been promised by the government that his dangerous work was all supposed to be behind him now. Yet here he was today. So much for promises from bureaucrats.
As the group walked through the house, Jake studied the layout for potential escape routes. He noted that the large living room had been turned into a meeting area. There were several folding tables with chairs around them. One wall held three large flat screen televisions. Jake figured that the bad news would be seen on those screens.
They all sat down at one of the tables. A woman wearing a phone headset walked over and set down an urn of coffee, and a platter with dinner rolls and pats of butter. Each table held supplies of generic government-issue coffee cups, silverware, napkins, creamer and sugar, ballpoint pens and lined notepads. The woman with the headset spoke to Easton and said, “Three minutes. And remember, these are two-way televisions. They can see and hear you at any time.”
Easton nodded and pointed a remote control at the center television display. It came on, and the screen showed a blue background.
Jake poured a cup of coffee. “Do you hav
e any Bailey’s Irish Cream in this disreputable establishment?”
Green shook her head. “No beverages containing alcohol.”
“I figured as much. That’s why I knew this place was disreputable.”
Brinkter tapped a pen on a notepad. “Wolfe, do you have any questions before the meeting?”
“Yes, who was the first man on Uranus?”
“Still the funny guy, aren’t you?”
“You should appreciate my sense of humor Brinkter. It’s the only thing that keeps me from killing you.”
Greene asked, “Jake, are the stories about you true—what you did overseas?”
Jake ignored the question.
“She’s seen part of your file and knows some of your history,” Brinkter said.
“I’d like to forget that part of my history.”
Greene nodded. “I understand. I was just curious about whether you really volunteered to get a deep tan, grow a beard, dress in the local clothing and walk barefoot for miles through the desert. Then go into a village marketplace, pull out a folding-stock AK47 from under your robe and shoot a wanted terrorist at point blank range and… just vanish into the surrounding area and hope you survived?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“He was fighting a secret war that the public never hears about,” Brinkter said. “The targets were the worst of the worst terrorists that we couldn’t get with a drone strike because they surrounded themselves with innocent children.”
“I read in your file that when you’d come face to face with the terrorist, you’d say a biblical quote as you shot him,” Greene said.
“Numbers 35:19,” Brinkter said. “The avenger of blood shall put the murderer to death.”
Jake let out a loud breath. “FYI Greene, I didn't volunteer. I was serving in the Marines, got injured and almost died. I was medically evacuated to a hospital, and while I was healing up, Brinkter visited me and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“What kind of offer, money?”
A flash of anger showed on Jake’s face for a moment, but he kept his emotions under control. “No it was more like a hostage negotiation. My good friend Dylan was sent to prison simply for getting a ride home from a party. The car was pulled over by the police, and Dylan was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Brinkter proposed my ‘volunteer’ work in exchange for getting my innocent friend released. Plus Brinkter told me some terrible facts he’d gathered about the target.”
Brinkter said, “Your record says you volunteered—all brave and noble of you, so get used to the idea.”
“What kind of facts?” Greene said.
“That man was responsible for a roadside bomb that killed one of my friends. He shot a girl for going to school, and he ordered the beheading of over 200 young women who refused to be sex slaves for his terrorist group. The Joint Special Operations Command had found his location. But JSOC couldn’t hit him with a drone strike because the coward always hid behind a group of children as his bulletproof shield.”
Brinkter said, “Command didn’t want any civilian casualties of course, so their hands were tied. However, a lesser-known agency planned two other ways to get this particular terrorist. They would either use a military sniper from a very long range, or use a black ops assassin up close and personal.”
“And Jake became one of the assassins?” Greene said.
“Yes, and I have to admit he was damned good at it. He was fearless, reckless and full of surprises. He soon had a price on his head. Wanted dead or alive by the terrorists.”
Jake didn’t say anything. He just stared at Brinkter. He was thinking about the time the man had abandoned him behind enemy lines while bounty hunter terrorists were hot on his trail. If they’d caught him, he would’ve been tortured for days, and then beheaded in a video on YouTube.
In another part of the city, Ivan Zhukov received a call from Elena. “I have that information you wanted about the woman named Sarah Chance. She was released to Wolfe’s attorney, and he gave her a ride home. She’s there now.”
Zhukov smiled. “I need her address.”
“I’ll send it to your phone,” Elena said. She ended the call and sent a text.
Zhukov wondered what kind of sleepwear Sarah Chance wore to bed at night, or if she slept in the nude. He would soon find out.
Chapter 101
The woman with the headset walked past the table again. “Stand by. They’ll be on-screen any moment now.”
Brinkter said, “What would you like to hear first Jake, the bad news or the worse news?”
“My guess is you want me to risk my life to do some impossible thing for you. And all I’ll get for my trouble is a form letter of thanks, rubber stamped and placed in my secret file.”
“We want you to exterminate a Russian assassin. If you survive, we’ll help you take care of this FBI fugitive situation.”
Jake shook his head. “No thanks. I’m done being your expendable weapon.”
“If you refuse, I can have you arrested for breaking and entering at the veterinary clinic, carrying a concealed weapon, resisting arrest, and possession of stolen government property.”
“Sarah won’t press charges for breaking and entering. I have a permit for concealed carry. And what stolen property are you talking about?”
“The dog. You didn’t complete the paperwork yet. That military dog was the property of the United States Government. Cody was assigned to Stuart. You don’t have proper legal title to him yet. If you don’t cooperate we might have to repossess him.”
“You stay the hell away from Cody or my lawyer will squeeze your nuts in a vise. But you’d probably enjoy that, huh Brinkter?”
“You also violated the terms of a restraining order by failing to turn in your weapons to the police. You and Terrell Hayes could both be arrested for those exploding bullets you thought were a secret. You’re in deep trouble Wolfe. I’ve got you exactly where I want you.”
Jake didn’t reply but the angry look on his face spoke volumes.
Brinkter used a cheap stainless silverware dinner knife to spread butter on a dinner roll and then he gestured toward Jake with the knife as he talked. “My friends in law enforcement could also do an entrapment on your mother at the winery. Send in a girl who is underage but looks twenty-one. Have her buy wine from the winery with a really good fake ID. Then arrest your mother and use the asset forfeiture laws to take away her winery and vineyards, her home and business, bank account and cars. How would that be, huh tough guy?”
Jake leaped to his feet and lunged at Brinkter, flying over the tabletop and scattering the coffee cups and silverware. He knocked Brinkter off of his chair and onto his back, grabbed a handful of his hair with his left hand and pressed a ballpoint pen against his face right below his eye with his right hand. Brinkter froze still, looking at the pen, feeling how its point touched his skin and was aimed at his brain. He’d dropped the butter knife in surprise and was now empty handed.
“Now I’ve got you exactly where I want you Brinkter,” Jake said.
“Drop that pen and get off of me immediately,” Brinkter said.
“Threaten my dog and my mother again. Go ahead, I want you to. And then I’ll shove this pen through your eye and into your brain, exactly the way your people taught me to do it.”
Easton appeared next to them, and he pressed the barrel of his pistol against Jake’s temple. “Back off, Wolfe. And Brinkter, you might want to stop antagonizing the human weapon you created.”
Brinkter started to say something but then thought better of it and kept his mouth shut.
Jake ignored the pistol against his head. “Easton if you fire your weapon, my death reflex will cause my arm to jerk and either kill Brinkter or turn him into a vegetable.”
“Is it worth dying for?”
“I’m thinking it over,” Jake said, and he looked into Brinkter’s eyes without any mercy.
Brinkter silently fought to control his bladder.
> Jake heard rapid footsteps behind him, and he saw two red laser sight dots appear on the wall in front of him and then move down and vanish when they were trained on his back. He knew that his angry reaction had been a mistake. But he’d wanted to grab Brinkter by the throat for a long time, and something had finally snapped inside him.
“I’ve got this, hold your fire,” Easton said.
The center TV screen flickered and then displayed the round seal of the President of the United States. That dissolved and the image of a woman appeared on the screen. The woman was sitting on a couch and was wearing a charcoal gray suit jacket over a white blouse. There was the slight telltale bulge of a pistol under her left arm where a shoulder holster would be located. She stared directly at the camera with a no-nonsense gaze and projected the image of a powerful, capable and dangerous person—someone who could give an order and you’d be dead or soon wish you were. “Jake Wolfe, this is Agent Shannon McKay of the United States Secret Service. I’m pleased to see that you are alive and well and free of incarceration.”
Jake recognized her voice from the recent phone calls. He glanced at the screen for a second and then returned his gaze to where he held the pen near Brinkter’s eye. “Agent McKay, it’s a pleasure to put a face to your voice. Thank you for calling me when I was impersonated, and thanks for being my alibi.”
“I was observing all of you just now,” McKay said. “Brinkter I suggest that you apologize to Wolfe so we can move on and get down to business.”
Brinkter pretended this was all nonsense, but everyone could see the fear in his eyes. He spoke in a fake polite voice. “Okay, sure. I’m sorry Jake. I apologize to you and to your mother, and to your…dog. Do you feel better now?”
“No, but I’m glad we had this little talk.”
Jake removed the ballpoint pen from below Brinkter’s eye and dropped it on the floor. Easton withdrew the pistol from Jake’s head but kept it trained on him. Jake stood up and slowly went around the end of the table and back to his chair. The two men on the response team kept their weapons trained on Jake. He just nodded at them in respect, turned his back on them and sat down.
