The Enraged

by Brett Battles

A short pause, then Misty said, “Hello?”

  “How you holding up?”

  “Well, you know. Okay, I guess.”

  “I have a question for you. Peter once mentioned there was an organization that took over for the Office. I’m pretty sure he knew the person in charge.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “I had the impression Peter trusted him.”

  “Very much. But it’s not a him. It’s a her.”

  CHAPTER 28

  SAN FRANCISCO

  HELEN CHO GRABBED the pot of coffee off her credenza and filled her cup.

  When she was settled behind her desk, she pushed the intercom button and said, “Send in Director Stone.”

  Across the room the door to her office opened, and Gregory Stone, current director of O & O, stepped in.

  “Good to see you, Helen,” he said as he walked up to her desk and extended his hand.

  “Sit,” she said, not taking it.

  “All right.” He pulled his hand back and sat down. “Now what’s so important we couldn’t have dealt with it over the phone?”

  “First off, you’re fired.”

  He leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t see a need to repeat myself.”

  “You can’t fire me. You don’t have the authority.”

  “You mean even though your organization now falls under me?”

  “Yes. Check my job description. You may be able to order O & O around, but I can only be removed from office by the secretary of Homeland Security or someone above him. Which, I believe, is only one person.”

  “Two if you count the vice president.”

  “No one counts the vice president,” Stone said.

  “Fair enough. I’ve read the details of your employment parameters. Needless to say, they will be removed before your successor takes office.”

  Stone snorted a laugh, leaned back against his chair, and crossed his legs. “Dream on.”

  She held his gaze for a moment before she reached over and tapped one of the buttons on her phone. “Are you still there, sir?”

  “I am,” the secretary of Homeland Security said.

  “And I trust you heard everything.”

  “I did indeed.”

  The blood drained from Stone’s face. “I, um, wasn’t aware someone was listening in. I should have been informed.”

  “Does it matter?” Helen asked.

  “Yes, former Director Stone, that’s a good question,” the secretary said.

  “It’s not fair, sir. This is an ambush.”

  “What this is,” Helen said, “is an overdue spring cleaning.”

  “You cannot—”

  “Stop right there,” the secretary said. “I would think very long and hard before you open your mouth again, Mr. Stone. You’ve made a mess at O & O. Helen is only doing what needs to be done.”

  “Sir, I don’t know what stories you may have heard, or what Director Cho had chosen to tell you, but—”

  “Director Cho has chosen to tell me nothing. She merely asked that I look into O & O for myself, which I have.” He paused. “I am embarrassed that this agency exists under my umbrella. Who knows how long it’s going to take us to unravel everything you’ve done there? Starting right now, you will answer everything Director Cho asks you. You will answer truthfully without hesitation. But it doesn’t end when you walk out of the room. Consider the rest of your life one gigantic exit interview. If and when Director Cho has questions for you in the future, you will answer those immediately. You will also answer any questions your successor has, if we decide it’s worth keeping O & O going. Lie one time, put off one answer, and you might as well kiss your life good-bye, because I can assure you, where you’ll be taken, you will not see the light of day for quite some time. If I’m particularly annoyed, like I am right now, I’ll arrange it so you never see it again. Am I understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are there any questions?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Then Director Cho, I will leave matters in your hands.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Helen said, and touched the button that disconnected the call.

  For several seconds, Stone stared at the phone, as if he were sure the secretary was still on the line.

  “Darvot Consulting,” Helen said.

  He looked at her, confused. “What?”

  “Darvot Consulting, the client for the Georgetown job we talked about on the phone. Who is your main contact there?”

  “That, um, would be Kyle Morten.”

  “So Mr. Morten is the one who hired you to watch the apartment?”

  “Actually it was arranged by his associate, Mr. Griffin.”

  As she suspected.

  “What was the purpose of this job?”

  “To detain anyone trying to enter the apartment.”

  “And how did that go?” She paused only a second before saying, “Never mind. Your failure on the mission isn’t important at the moment. It’s the mission itself I’m interested in. What were the reasons for detaining anyone found there?”

  “I assume you’ve read the project brief,” he said. “Likely terrorist activity?”

  “You believed the brief?”

  “My job is not…was not to question a brief, but to render services to clients on our approved list. Darvot is on that list.”

  “Who put them on that list?”

  “They’ve been there for as long as I’ve been with the organization.”

  “Let me broaden that a bit. Who approves anyone for that list?”

  His hesitation was probably enough to get him sent to Guantanamo, but she made no mention of it.

  “The director of O & O.”

  “So, you.”

  “Yes. But I do my due diligence, and my predecessor would have done the same.”

  “I’m sure. What you’re telling me is that your job is not to question a brief from a client approved by the director of O & O, and yet you are the director of O & O. Help me out here.”

  “My predecessor, in this case,” he said.

  “The director of O & O,” she countered.

  In the corner of her eye, she saw a message from her assistant David flash onto her computer screen. She glanced over.

  I have a Jonathan Quinn on line three. He insists on talking to you.

  Jonathan Quinn? It took her a moment to place the name. He was an operative, a…cleaner, if she wasn’t mistaken. Why in God’s name would he want to talk to her?

  She typed a quick reply.

  Take a message.

  David responded almost immediately.

  He said he’ll hold.

  She wrote back:

  Tell him I’m tied up.

  Then she turned her screen so she wouldn’t see it if another message appeared.

  “Apologies,” she said to Stone. “Let’s keep moving forward. Mr. Griffin answers to Mr. Morten. Do you know if Mr. Morten answers to anyone?”

  “How should I know that?” Stone said. “They haven’t shared their corporate structure with me.”

  “It’s not in the file O & O has on Darvot?”

  “You must have looked at it yourself. You know if it’s there or not.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Well, then, there’s your answer,” he said defensively.

  She stared at him until he blinked and looked away. “You want to know what I’ve learned about your organization since it came under my control? O & O and due diligence are not synonymous. I have no doubt we’re going to find numerous examples of O & O activities that border on the criminal, if not cross the line entirely.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I have no knowledge of anything remotely like that.”

  “Of course you don’t.” She clasped her hands, set them on the desk in front of her, and leaned forward. “What I’m telling you, Mr. Stone, is this. You will never look for another job again. Not in the government. Not in the private sector. Not even serving
coffee at Starbucks. You will live off the money you have now, and the retirement package you are due. And that’s it.”

  He jerked forward and slammed his palms down on the front of her desk. “What? You can’t do that! I don’t have enough to—”

  “Actually, I can. If you break this rule, you will find yourself in one of our secret courtrooms, where you’ll be convicted and sentenced to life.”

  “On what charge?”

  She smiled. “We’ll think of something.” She stood. “Now get your ass out of my office.”

  “I want to talk to the sec—”

  “Don’t embarrass yourself. Get out, Gregory. We’re done.”

  It was several moments before he finally pulled himself to his feet and left her office, looking shell-shocked.

  Before the door could close again, David slipped inside. “Excuse me, Director, but Jonathan Quinn has called back again.”

  “For God’s sake, David. Run interference. I don’t have time to deal with him.”

  “He said to tell you it has to do with Peter.” He said the name almost like it was a question, as if he wasn’t sure he was pronouncing it right.

  Helen froze. “He said Peter?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  That’s right. That’s how she knew Quinn. He was Peter’s go-to cleaner. But why would he be calling now? What the hell was going on? “Give me a minute, then put him through.”

  When her phone rang, she was sitting again, looking at her computer. She picked up the receiver and said, “Mr. Quinn.”

  “Director Cho, thank you for taking my call. I’m—”

  “I know who you are,” she said. On her monitor was a surprisingly short dossier for one Jonathan Quinn. “You’re a cleaner.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “As you can imagine, my schedule is rather full. I only have a moment. If we could make this quick?”

  “Of course. I’m hoping you can help me with a few questions.”

  “I’m not an information service.”

  “I’m asking as a favor to Peter.”

  As a test, she said, “If Peter wants a favor, he can call himself.”

  “Ma’am, I have no doubt you already know Peter was killed in the Caribbean early last week.”

  She said nothing.

  “I was standing less than fifty feet away from him when it happened.”

  Helen seldom found herself at a loss for words, but this was one of those moments. When she finally found her voice, she said, “Tell me how it happened.”

  Quinn told her a story of kidnapping and torture and murder and escape. His details so neatly filled in the holes in the report on Peter’s death that she knew he was telling the truth. Her analysts were right. It had been an act of revenge gone wrong.

  “The rest of you survived, though?” she asked.

  A hesitation. “Yes.”

  Neither said anything for a moment.

  “You said you had questions, Mr. Quinn.”

  “Peter left some unfinished business that he wanted me to take care of.”

  “And what might that be?”

  “What do you know about Miranda Keyes’s death?”

  “Miranda Keyes?” Helen said. “Who is Miranda…” Her voice trailed off as she remembered. “You mean the woman from the State Department killed in that car accident?”

  “It wasn’t an accident. Someone murdered her and her colleagues.”

  “That was a long time ago. I don’t remember all the details, but I seem to recall that there was a thorough investigation and no determination of foul play. So that’s quite an accusation.”

  “It’s not an accusation. The original report was suppressed.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “That’s one of my questions.”

  “Well, even if it’s true, I obviously have no idea.”

  “Maybe not. But you’re in a position to help me find out.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “It’s my understanding that you and Peter were close, or at least as close as Peter would let anyone get. I thought you’d be interested in bringing his wife’s killers to justice.”

  “Wait, are you saying Miranda Keyes and Peter were married?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  She considered the possibility. It would have been the kind of marriage better kept secret, for the obvious, diplomatic reasons. But still… “I knew Peter. If he wouldn’t share that with me, he wouldn’t tell you, either.”

  “You’re right. He never said a word to me. But he did tell his assistant, Misty Blake.”

  Misty Blake. For a second time, Helen found herself unable to speak.

  “I need your help narrowing down who might have wanted her dead,” Quinn said. “I’ll take it—”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” she said, the pieces falling into place.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You were with Misty at Peter’s apartment.”

  Now it was Quinn’s turn not to say anything.

  She decided to push again, using what she knew to get more information out of him. “Yesterday photos were taken of Misty and two other men outside Peter’s place. One of them is you, isn’t it?”

  “No,” he said cautiously. “I…I left before they went back there.”

  “But you were there for the break-in the day before, weren’t you? I’ll bet you’re even the one who shot my man in the hand?”

  “Your man? Sorry I bothered—”

  Sensing he was about to hang up, she said, “Hold on. While the team does work at one of the agencies I oversee, I had no knowledge of the operation, not until it was over.”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Quinn?”

  The silence continued for another second, then, “You sent men to a house in Arlington Ridge, too.”

  “Again, my people, but not by me. Once I found out what was going on, I canceled the entire job.”

  Dead air, long and empty. If the display hadn’t shown that the connection was still active, Helen would have thought Quinn had disconnected.

  “Director Cho,” he said after nearly half a minute. “This agency of yours—what’s it called?”

  “That’s not important,” she said.

  “Really? You’re dodging that question? You don’t think I could find out some other way?”

  “All right, it’s called O & O.”

  “Ah, so that’s O & O. I’ve heard of them, but have never had the pleasure until now. Not the kind of place I’d ever do work for. They don’t exactly have the best rep.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “My understanding is that O & O does work for hire.”

  “If you’ve heard of O & O, then you know it does.”

  “Then don’t you see? The client who sent them after us is most likely the one who sold Peter out to prevent him from looking into his wife’s murder. Whether they pulled the trigger or not, they’re the ones responsible for his death. Now they seem to be interested in taking out my friends and me. So what I need you to do is tell me who this client is.”

  “You’ll forgive me for declining to give you that information,” she said.

  “Actually, I won’t.”

  “Let me rephrase. Decline to give you that information at the moment. You understand that I can’t just give you a name without doing some due diligence on my end.” The irony of her statement was not lost on her.

  “I believe I can help you with that. Expect an e-mail from me. You’ll want to examine the attached files very carefully.”

  “You have my e-mail address?”

  “Of course,” he said. “Do you have a pen?”

  “Yes.”

  He gave her a phone number. “I expect to hear from you very, very soon. And know this. I’m going to find out who these people are one way or the other, and you’d much rather be on board now than have me look later into why you were
unwilling to help.”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Quinn?”

  “It is.”

  CHAPTER 29

  SEATTLE

  THE MOLE HAD no idea what he was going to tell Griffin if Orlando and Quinn didn’t provide him direction. He could go ahead and give up this Misty Blake woman, but he had a pretty good idea what Griffin would do if he found the woman, and the Mole couldn’t bring himself to be a part of that.

  Perhaps he could generate a fictional identity. He could easily seed data all over the place to support it. He played it through in his mind, and grimaced. With enough time, he could do it, but that he didn’t have. One little glitch and it would be a house of cards tumbling down right on top of him.

  So…what? Keep lying and say he couldn’t find anything? Griffin would never go for that.

  The only real solution was if he didn’t have to worry about Griffin anymore.

  He folded his arms and pursed his lips. Now there was an idea. He couldn’t execute it himself—not the physical part, anyway—but he could help someone else achieve that goal.

  Quinn, for instance.

  Griffin was already moving into the cleaner’s crosshairs. If the Mole could make sure Quinn had a clear shot, that would be problem solved.

  All right. So what’s the first thing Quinn would want to know?

  Where Griffin was, of course.

  The Mole woke his computer and opened Slime, his self-written tracking software. Slime was a constant work in progress. He tweaked it sometimes two or three times a week, improving its capabilities and success rate. It could employ a variety of methods, the most common being the ability to track a cell phone.

  The Mole didn’t try inputting Griffin’s number, though. He was sure the phone would be untraceable via traditional methods. That was fine. There was another, backdoor route he could try. He’d used it before, after the last time Griffin paid him a visit, when the Mole had wanted to make sure the man had actually left Seattle. It meant sending Griffin an e-mail, but as long as he had a legitimate reason for it, there shouldn’t be a problem.

  Using the tracking program, he opened a blank e-mail with an embedded bot that would travel to Griffin’s phone and report back. Until the message was deleted, it would act as a tracking bug.