On The Black: (A CIA Thriller)

by Theo Cage

  Kreegar picked himself up slowly, his eyes unfocused, holding his head in his hands. He wasn't sure if he should just lie on the carpet for a while longer. Hard to know what triggers violence in some people; passiveness or anger. Kreegar had limited experience with the private Wheeler. He didn't know what switch to pull.

  “Sir, with all due respect - if we’d had a kill-order from day one, we would have sent a Predator drone after Rice, and he would just be atoms in the wind right now.”

  The ex-President digested that idea, feasting on the possibility, then moved back to his desk and sat down. “You still failed me, George. Spin that any way you like. I know about how you fucked up that hostage taking.”

  Kreegar stood up and righted the chair. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his hand. Then he straightened his tie.

  “He's coming for us, isn't he!” said the ex-President. Kreegar considered a lie, or spinning what he knew. Old habits are hard to break. They had tried to keep Rice's capture among friends; preventing any chance of the truth getting out. Maybe they were past that now.

  “Sir, we have another option.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Label him as a wanted terrorist. Invite in the other agencies - FBI and Homeland Security. Broadcast shoot-to-kill orders. Make it open season.”

  “You think it's time to go to Defcon Four with this traitor?”

  “Once he enters the beltway, we will have him on video surveillance. At that point he will be facing an army who knows his every move.

  Wheeler squeezed his eyes with his fingers. “So you're saying if I stay at my condo in Georgetown, I'm completely safe.”

  “No question. You'd be under the umbrella.”

  “Too bad it wouldn't guarantee Rice won't talk.”

  “If he steps into D.C., he will be dead within hours.”

  “He could be talking to a reporter right now for all we know - somewhere outside.”

  “Sir? I don’t think he wants to embarrass us or see us in prison. He wants us dead,” said Kreegar.

  “I know, George. That was just wishful thinking. Remember - I'm still a Democrat.”

  CHAPTER 73

  Hwy near Indianapolis

  RICE HAD SIPPED CHAMPAGNE in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, and once shared a tuna sandwich with the President of the United States in the back seat of his bulletproof limo. But sitting in a well-padded booth in Phil's Diner on a Sunday morning, just north of Indianapolis on Hwy 65, nursing a home-style milkshake in a frosty stainless steel blender cup, was as close to food heaven as a human could get.

  He felt good for the first time in days. He had money - what was left of the one hundred thousand dollars in cash they had taken from the kid who robbed Frank. They could now afford three star accommodations and decent food. He had security: the biker gang was long gone, Kreegar had lost his trail, and Grace was keeping his brother’s family safe.

  And finally, he had Britt. Or at least had connected with her, knew she was safe, and had made amends. He told her to be patient. You won't see them and they won’t approach. Just be clear - they are there.

  They discussed a plan. And then Rice told her to be careful. Call as often as you need.

  Addie sat across from him, a coffee in a fat brown mug in her hands, but no food. Rice didn't understand how she kept moving. She never seemed to eat anything.

  “The speed you're devouring that giant milkshake, I'm afraid you might get a massive brain freeze and die. Then I'll never know what your plans were for using me as bait,” said Addie.

  “Maybe you don't want to know,” said Rice, wincing slightly, a sharp pain growing across the front of his forehead. He hadn't had a brain freeze in well over a decade. There were few opportunities for drinking milkshakes in the Rainier mountain range.

  “I would never use you as bait. I might lie to a gangster and then give him the impression I was willing to hand you over to get what I want. But I would never endanger you.”

  “I feel much better now,” said Addie.

  “You want Enzo locked up as much as I do. We could never do this on our own. We need your biker friends to seal the deal.” Addie and Rice had talked about a plan on the highway out of Chicago. One that solved two of their biggest problems - the bikers still looking for the drug money - and Enzo's vendetta.

  “You're pretty serious about this woman who rescued you?” asked Addie.

  “Her name is Britt.”

  “What did you say she did for a living? This Britt.”

  “I didn't. She’s a trauma nurse.”

  “For someone with your kind of lifestyle, she could be the perfect match. You break bones; she mends them.”

  Rice lifted his head. “I guess I should remind you that any bones broken so far have largely been your doing.”

  Addie covered his hand with one of hers. “I shouldn't joke. I’m grateful for everything you've done. I hate to think where I'd be right now if you hadn't been there when the bikers showed up.”

  Rice just slurped up the last bit of milkshake with his straw, focused on the bottom of the glass.

  “One thing you never told me though. If that freaky helicopter of yours hadn't crash landed, where were you headed?” she asked.

  Rice was looking out at the parking lot watching the traffic stream by. Where were they all going and why? He hadn't heard from Grace or Jimmy for hours. That should mean status quo, but there was always another possible explanation.

  “You've been on the run for how long?” asked Rice.

  “Nineteen months,” she answered.

  “You know what it feels like to have someone focused on you every day. One mistake like that, and that could be it.” Addie nodded, then slipped on the sunglasses she had set beside her on the table. Rice wished she hadn't. He missed looking into those unique eyes of hers. The ones that gave her away so quickly.

  “I'm on the run too,” he said. He couldn't see any reaction from her. She hadn't moved a muscle. “Two men I had worked for once have been looking for me for over ten years...” Addie flinched like she had just woken from a dream. Rice couldn't imagine what she was thinking, how they had somehow found each other. “They found me up on Mount Rainier. That's why I started the trip east. We lost them at the Clark Fork underpass.”

  “Why are they after you?”

  “Same as your story. Paid to terminate.”

  “What?” she said. “You picked me up at the truck stop knowing you were being followed by a bunch of hired killers?”

  Rice put his hand out. She pulled away. “You knew that I was getting into a truck that had a giant bull’s eye on it and you said nothing?”

  “You didn’t really give me a chance.”

  “What are you? Some kind of maniac thrill seeker!”

  She slid across the booth and was halfway up when Rice grasped her by the wrist. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Where I want to go. I'm done with liars and fakes and... let me go or I will scream for the police.”

  Rice released her. “I don't think you understand,” he said. “You'd probably be dead now if you hadn't gotten into that truck. You can leave at any time you want.”

  “Fine, that would be now then.” And she stormed out of the roadside restaurant and headed across the parking lot.

  CHAPTER 74

  Near Indianapolis, IN

  RICE TOOK A DEEP BREATH and let the noise of the restaurant wash over him. He felt he had a better chance of defusing a nuclear weapon than guessing Addie's true intentions right now.

  He could still see her in the parking lot, looking both ways, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. She was stubborn. She might hitch a ride with some sketchy truck driver just to spite him; just to show him she could.

  He pulled a twenty out of his pocket and tucked it under his plate, looking wistfully at the pile of unfinished French fries. He grabbed one and chewed on it as he walked out of the truck stop.

  Addie was still standing there, the wi
nd blowing her hair around, her body tense. She was right. She never looked lost. If anything, she seemed always ready to fight or defend herself and she rarely let her guard down. Maybe a truck driver with evil intentions would be warned away by her attitude. Maybe that had kept her whole all along.

  Rice walked up behind here. She turned her head, somehow knowing he was there.

  “I'm not going to apologize for giving you a ride,” he said.

  She dropped her head slightly, her hair moving back and forth across her eyes. She looked disappointed.

  “Why would you? Real men never apologize.”

  “You were never in danger. At least not from my side. Your friends on the other hand...”

  “Are we going to compare threats now? If yours is bigger than mine?”

  Rice looked across the lot to a row of highway rigs, parked there while the drivers ate lunch or took a shower in the truck stop. Truck driver’s lives seemed so simple. Drive. Stop. Eat. Drive again. That’s why he bought the rig. He’d loved the big trucks since he was ten. But it hadn't been that simple. Not when you're being hunted by every psychopath in the state.

  Part of him knew hiding out in the Ghost Hills was all about escaping. Not Kreegar and his acolytes. Modern life. With all of its complications. The year before he went into hiding, Al-Qaeda had detonated a dirty bomb in San Francisco. Within a week, several thousand people had died and thousands more were sick. Kreegar had predicted the attack.

  Rice remembered his words. A dirty bomb is viciously simple. A huge mother fucker of a conventional bomb, like the one McVeigh set off in Oklahoma City, in 1995, nothing more than fertilizer and diesel fuel. But mix in a few hundred pounds of radioactive plutonium 239 dust. Ignite the bomb downtown. Within 3 days, in any major city, a million casualties plus a ghost town, an uninhabitable urban wasteland that no one will be able to set foot in for a years.”

  Kreegar was wrong about one thing. People didn’t leave Frisco. They fought to stay. The Golden Gate Bridge became a new icon of American determination.

  Dying by radiation poisoning is not a pretty sight. That might be one of the reasons why Americans were angrier than they were about 9/11. They wanted revenge. There were military options discussed and other more covert actions. Rice became intimately involved in one plan that forever changed his view of life in the 21st Century. And that’s why he disappeared.

  But he was finished forever with hiding.

  “I made you a promise, Addie. We'll end this madness with the Ruffinos. I may be on the run for the rest of my life, but you deserve better. You didn't ask for this.”

  Addie turned toward him, her face emotionless behind the sunglasses. But one tear had escaped her control and was sliding down her cheek.

  “And why should I trust you? You haven't been honest with me. You're like all the other men I'm drawn to. Full of flash. Entertaining as hell, for a while anyway. But in the end, as shallow as twelve year olds.”

  Rice considered what she said. A lot of young women, facing what Addie had experienced, would have lost hope a long time ago. She was still standing. But for how long? He felt like he needed to say something right now that she could hold on to. But the words had to be just right, the inflection and the timing perfect, or she might just let herself go and plummet into the unknown. He didn't think he had the answer. This wasn't a skill taught at Navy Seal boot camp. He wished it was. For the first time in years, he felt totally unequipped to win.

  “You saved my life back there,” was all he could think of saying.

  “Bullshit,” was her response.

  “I came out of the woods, angry as hell, looking for blood. And the very first face I saw was yours. If it wasn't for you, I would have killed Frank.”

  “If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have had to deal with Frank.”

  “The names don't matter. I can't do this without you,” said Rice. He wondered if he had gotten close. He could see nothing in her body language that told him he had.

  “You're dangerous, Burroughs. And you know that. You're a killer who's lost his edge,” said Addie.

  Rice narrowed his eyes like he was about to protest. But he didn’t. “I’m not arguing with that,” he said.

  “The fact that you picked up a hitchhiker...” She shook her head. “It sounds like you were a hero once. And you're a good man. But right now, I don't think you're the right person to be hanging with.”

  “I'm sorry you feel that way.”

  “Me too,” she said, and she touched his shoulder briefly, then put her hands back in her pockets and turned towards the highway.

  CHAPTER 75

  Near Indianapolis, IN

  ADDIE TRIED TO STAY CALM. She was walking down the highway, pissed off with Rice, with the Ruffinos, with life in general, when the signal changed at the intersection and the yellow Corvette rolled up beside her, the passenger window down.

  The woman behind the wheel looked like an actress or a model, dressed in expensive jeans and silk top, her skin the color of chocolate milk.

  “Looks like you could use a lift,” was all she said.

  “You've got that right,” Addie said, and slipped into the low-slung seat without another word.

  “Where are you headed?” the woman asked, smiling like she knew something Addie didn't.

  “Wherever you're going.”

  “Great. I've got a few days off. All I know is I'm headed south.”

  The driver tore away from the shoulder, shifting gears like a pro, the engine feeling like it was right underneath them. Addie was suddenly a passenger in a bright yellow rocket ship.

  “Where are you from?” asked the driver.

  Addie looked over at her. She looked to be in her early thirties, as far removed in speech and style from a crime family as you could possibly get. Hey, you need to be careful. “I'm originally from Nevada, but I've been traveling around quite a bit.”

  “I'm from New York. My name is Grace.”

  “Addie.”

  “You travel light,” said Grace.

  “I don't like to get attached to things.” Addie tightened her seat belt. “Why do you drive so fast?”

  “It's fun.”

  “Aren't you worried about the police?”

  “Only if they catch me. And they never catch me,” answered Grace. Then she punched the gas down and the car surged forward.

  Addie looked over at the bright red numbers on the display pod. 92. She sighed. She sure knew how to pick em'.

  CHAPTER 76

  Interstate 70 near Indianapolis

  SUMNER WAS GETTING LOCATION UPDATES on Sergio's cell phone from Quantico every fifteen minutes or so. Once they triangulated the phone's GPS signal, they had automated technology that updated the agent as often as requested. In addition, Sumner was getting more detailed data from the tech running the search. He was new and clearly excited about the assignment.

  “They were stopped at a truck stop on Highway 65 just north of Indianapolis for about 45 minutes. Now they're on the move again. Still headed for the city.”

  Sumner was still hours away from them. He had done a quick calculation in his head. He could push the SUV to ninety or more, but if he got pulled over, he would have to do a lot of explaining and would end up losing a good twenty minutes of travel time. Plus, he didn't think of himself as a great driver at that speed anyway. So he stayed at just a few miles over the posted limit.

  One thing bothered him. Does a fleeing fugitive like Addie stop for lunch at a truck stop for an hour? It seemed out of character. Maybe she was back to hitching rides with strangers on eighteen-wheelers and could easily find a ride with some bored long-distance trucker. How accurate was the FBI technology? Could it tell him exactly which rig she was in? He guessed he would find out.

  The Quantico tech had more info. “The USB drive you gave Razer activated about thirty minutes ago. Based on location I’d say Razer has a laptop in his car. And I’ve gone through his email. I think you’re going to like this. Glob
al Imperatives is on contract with a George Kreegar.”

  “THE George Kreegar? Ex-CIA Director?”

  “The very same. And they are looking for a Burroughs Rice. Special Services agent.”

  “Addie’s companion.”

  “Trouble is, I can’t really dig anything up on Rice. His files are all closed.”

  “What do you mean by closed?”

  “Sealed.”

  “Can’t you unseal them?”

  “I’d have to make an application to Homeland Security. It’s HS who sealed the dockets. It would take months just to get a hearing.”

  “What’s a black ops agent doing with a woman escaping WITSEC ?”

  “That’s a rhetorical question.”

  “All the best ones are.”

  “Do you want to know where Trent Razer is right now?”

  “Roger that.”

  “Columbus, Ohio. Heading east.”

  “Sounds like everyone is headed to the same party. Keep me updated if anything changes.”

  CHAPTER 77

  Indianapolis, Indiana

  SUMNER WAS CONVINCED three days without sleep was like being hit repeatedly in the face by an exploding airbag. Pretty soon he would need cue cards just to remember his name.

  The Quantico geek called back with a location update on Addie. She had passed him a few seconds ago going in the other direction.

  Sumner woke up immediately, straining to see the next turnoff, the wait interminable. He was so close. He had to take an exit to some small town with a name he forgot three seconds after he turned back onto the Interstate. Now he was heading south-east.

  “Now where is she?” he asked.