The Insiders

by Craig Hickman

  “How many men did Hap send?”

  “That’s what scared me. There were six of them. Four in the Cherokee and two in the Taurus. Hap said he was sending three,” Wilson said, his eyes were full of venom as he looked up at Emily from the bottom of the boat. “When I got to Boothbay Harbor I stopped at Brigham’s Inn. A few blocks away from the pier. We stayed there once. Remember?”

  “Yes, I remember,” Emily said, smiling. She swung her eyes back to the helm and the bay in front of them.

  “I left the Range Rover in the parking lot next to Brigham’s and casually walked to the B&B. As soon as I got inside, I left through the back door into the garden and ran through the woods to a side street where I entered the first clothing shop I could find. That’s where I bought my new Red Sox cap and the raincoat.”

  “How did you wind up with the whale watching group?” Emily asked.

  “I knew the men following me wouldn’t stay at the B&B for long, which meant meeting you on the main pier was not an option. Unfortunately, the only way to let you know was to not show up. Sorry. I knew you’d figure it out and come looking for me, so I tried to find a natural cover nearby. When the whale watching group started forming a few minutes ago, I bought a ticket.”

  “Thank God you saw me.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Wilson said. “Your outfit was brilliant. I saw you standing there in the rain and didn’t think twice about it. Then, when you turned, I knew it was you. I’d recognize that graceful turn of your head anywhere, no matter what you were wearing.”

  Glancing at him sideways, she said, “We’re getting better at this, and I’m not sure I like it.”

  Wilson didn’t respond, except to raise his eyebrows, as the boat motored across the harbor to the pier where Emily had left the lobster boat. They quickly got out of the twelve-footer and into Paddie’s twenty-four-foot lobster boat. Emily charted a course around the eastern peninsula to Linekin Bay. When they reached Lobster Cove, they began looking for a secluded place to dock so they could survey what was happening back in Boothbay Harbor. No matter who was following them—Hap’s men, Tate’s men, the FBI—compromised or not, every local cop and state trooper along the coast would soon be looking for them, Wilson thought. Sooner or later, someone was bound to check the boat rentals, and then they’d have the coast guard after them as well.

  When they spotted a small pier with no one around, they docked the boat and hiked up a narrow path through heavy brush past two secluded homes and into a small clearing, which was perfect for spying.

  They sat sheltered by a large umbrella from the misting rain on one of the outdoor benches and took turns scanning the bay’s environs. Wilson was the first to spot the men who had been following him.

  “The two cars that were following me just pulled into the parking lot at the main pier,” he said, his eyes glued to the binoculars. “Only five men this time. One must be waiting. Hold it. Here come two more vehicles. One of them is the Range Rover. The other one is a Taurus. Beige. Three more men. The two Fords have to be FBI. The Jeep Cherokee must be Hap’s.”

  “What are they doing?” Emily asked.

  “Talking. Just talking.”

  “Now what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Emily squinted, but without binoculars she could barely discern the cars.

  “One of them is pointing toward town,” Wilson said. “Looks like he’s giving instructions. They’re splitting up. On foot.”

  “Whoever they are, it won’t take them long to check the rental records. I think it’s time to leave,” Emily said.

  “I think you’re right,” Wilson said, handing the binoculars to Emily.

  She peered through the lenses at the eight men who were now walking two by two into Boothbay Harbor’s commercial district. “At least we know they won’t be looking for us back on Bailey Island,” Emily said.

  “Right,” Wilson said. “And, if these guys don’t already know we’re sitting here across the bay, it means that everything they used to track us is still in the Range Rover.”

  They returned to the lobster boat and headed back toward Mo Bobicki’s loft. As they rounded the point into Mackerel Cove, everything seemed normal. They docked the boat at the gas pumps where Paddie was waiting for them. He’d been hanging out in the restaurant’s bar when he saw them enter the cove. It was almost two in the afternoon.

  Back in the loft, they made up the bed and futon, pulled down the blinds on the windows, and tried to get some rest since neither of them had gotten much sleep in the past few days. Wilson was overjoyed to have Emily lying beside him again. As he closed his eyes to sleep, he wondered if the FBI or Hap’s men or the secret partnership would be able to trace a call if he used the pay telephone downstairs to contact Hap. He needed to make sure their families were safe. It was the last thought he remembered before falling asleep.

  60

  Rachel – Cambridge, MA

  It was Rachel who smelled the smoke first, in the middle of hastily preparing to leave for a safe house. She yelled at Darrin, who had just arrived home from a job interview, to call 911. Then she ran upstairs to get her daughter and mother who were reading in the belfry library. “The house is on fire,” Rachel shouted running up the spiral staircase.

  Her mother and little Mary met her at the top of the stairs with looks of astonishment on their faces. “What’s happening?” her mother gasped.

  “The house is on fire. We’ve got to get out,” Rachel blurted before coughing uncontrollably. The three of them descended one after another down the spiral staircase into the hallway, toward the main staircase now filled with smoke.

  Darrin came running from the kitchen, scooped his daughter into his arms, and grabbed Rachel’s hand. Rachel’s other hand held onto her mother’s. As the four of them ran together down the wide hallway toward the front door, there was an explosion in the east parlor. Flames shot across their exit path, engulfing the front door in fire and smoke. They quickly turned around and ran for the French doors at the back of the house, but before they could reach them, there was another explosion. All four of them were thrown to the ground by the blast.

  Disoriented and coughing as she lay on the floor, Rachel could barely discern the sirens and breaking glass before she lost consciousness. When she regained awareness, she had a plastic oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and was being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. She raised herself up from the gurney to see where her family was, but all she could see was Darrin wrestling with one of the paramedics.

  “What’s wrong?” she screamed, managing to remove the plastic mask from her face.

  The paramedic attending her replaced the mask and pushed her back down onto the gurney, telling her that her mother and daughter were fine. Then she heard gunshots and immediately raised herself up again, just in time to see her husband fall to the ground. She ripped the mask from her face and tried to get up, but the paramedic shoved her back down and stuck a gun in her face.

  Rachel screamed as she rolled off the gurney onto the floor of the ambulance. There were more gunshots with blood splattering everywhere inside the ambulance. The bodies of two paramedics dropped beside her, one of them pinning her arm to the floor.

  Gunfire continued outside the ambulance for several more seconds. When it stopped, Rachel drew her arm out from under the lifeless body and scrambled out of the ambulance to find her husband who was lying unconscious on the ground. He’d been shot in the shoulder and was being lifted onto a gurney by one of Hap Greene’s men and another man she’d never seen before.

  “We need to get you to a hospital,” said the man she’d never seen before. He motioned to another ambulance that was coming up the driveway. “Your husband’s got a minor shoulder wound and a nasty bump on his head, but he should be fine. Your mother and daughter are already on their way to the hospital. They’re fine. Just suffering from a little smoke inhalation and a few bruises like you.”

  “Who are you and what happened?”
Rachel said as she walked beside her husband’s gurney, clinching his hand.

  “Sorry, ma’am. Special Agent Frandsen, FBI,” he said. “I think you know Johnson here.”

  Rachel nodded as she acknowledged Hap Greene’s man who was keeping pressure on Darrin’s shoulder to reduce the bleeding.

  “The crew of paramedics that arrived after the fire broke out weren’t real paramedics. They tried to kidnap your mother when Hap Greene and your husband intervened.”

  She felt dizzy, almost losing her balance as they loaded her husband into the ambulance.

  “Get this woman a gurney,” Special Agent Frandsen shouted as he grabbed Rachel around the waist to keep her from falling.

  Rachel began losing consciousness as scenes of an apocalypse ran through her mind. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Where’s my daughter? Mother?

  As the paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, Rachel began coughing uncontrollably, throwing her body into convulsions.

  “Will we ever be safe again?”

  61

  Wilson – Bailey Island, ME

  Wilson woke up bathed in sweat. He immediately looked at his watch. It was fifteen minutes after five o’clock in the evening. They’d slept for more than three hours. Montsweag’s would be closing in fifteen minutes. Wilson bolted down the stairs to the pay phone on the wall outside the marina store. It was raining hard.

  After punching the numbers into the pay phone, he heard a woman’s voice, “Montsweag’s Whale Watching and Sightseeing Excursions.”

  “We rented a boat this morning. It’s in my girlfriend’s name Emily Klein. We left…”

  “Let me get Mr. Montsweag,” she interrupted.

  As Wilson waited on the line, he wondered what Carter was doing.

  A few seconds later, a deep gruff voice came on the line. “Son, the police have been here looking for the two of you.”

  Wilson’s heart sank as he looked around him in the pouring rain, trying to discern if anyone was watching. “What did they want?” Wilson asked, looking at his watch and trying to remember how long it took to trace a call. It had already been twenty seconds or so.

  “Some kind of emergency at home. They didn’t say anymore than that.”

  Wilson braced himself against the wall of the marina store to keep his balance and hung up the phone. Then, he called the number, again, “Sorry. I was cut off.”

  “Where are you?” Montsweag said when he got on the line, again.

  “We got stuck in the storm. We’re fifty miles north in Stonington.”

  “Where you stayin?”

  “Uh. Don’t know yet,” Wilson replied, attempting to keep his composure. “Probably at the Inn by the old Opera House.”

  “Okay. Better call home, son. You can bring the boat back tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Montsweag,” Wilson said, panicking inside. He entered the marina store to get more quarters. As he looked around, nothing seemed out of place. Jaclyn was still behind the counter waiting on customers. When she got to Wilson, she asked, “How many nights are you planning to stay?”

  “Can I let you know in the morning?” Wilson asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “I need an imprint of your credit card.”

  “I’ll pay cash. How much?”

  “Off season rate is $89. With food and tax, it’s $122.41.”

  Wilson gave her seven twenty-dollar bills and asked for the change in quarters. Luckily she had several rolls of quarters. She grabbed two and cracked them open.

  Back at the pay phone, Wilson dialed Hap Greene’s emergency number and then deposited two dollars and fifty cents.

  A woman’s voice answered, “Hello.”

  “Who’s this?” Wilson asked, startled.

  “Wilson? Is that you? This is Agent Kohl.”

  “Where’s Hap?”

  “We can’t talk on this phone. Call me back at 212-555-0004.”

  Wilson hung up, dialed the new number, and deposited another two dollars and fifty cents.

  Kohl’s voice came on the line, “Wilson?”

  “Are you trying to trace this call?”

  “No,” Kohl said. “As long as you’re safe…”

  “Is my family safe?” Wilson said, interrupting her.

  “Yes,” Kohl said.

  Wilson heard the hesitation in her voice. “Where’s Hap?”

  There was silence on the line.

  “Where’s Hap?” Wilson repeated.

  “He left this cell phone with a message that he’d be back soon. The agent who was with him is dead.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was a fire and explosions at your family’s Brattle Street residence earlier this morning. The firemen took care of it quickly. Your family is fine. A team of paramedics tried to kidnap your mother and niece. Hap Greene and the other agents stopped them. Your mother, your sister, and your niece were not harmed, just a little smoke inhalation. Your brother-in-law was wounded in the shoulder, but he’s doing fine. All of them are at Mount Auburn Hospital under heavy guard.”

  “You said they were safe before. Are you sure they’re safe now?” Wilson asked, his voice cracking. He felt responsible for everything. And when his family needed him most, he was too far away to help.

  “Yes,” Kohl said. “Let us bring you in, Wilson. We can protect you.”

  “We’ll take our chances where we are. Just keep my family safe,” Wilson said, looking at his watch. Twenty seconds had passed. “Are you sure no one’s tracing this call?”

  “Absolutely,” Kohl said. “This is my personal cell phone and everything on it is scrambled. I purposely don’t have caller ID and I’ve never used it to trace anyone. Trust me.”

  “What about the compromised agents?” Wilson asked, deciding to believe her.

  “We’ve identified all of them. The first one we found, an agent named Switzer, confessed to everything.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Eleven. Six from the FBI, two from the Justice Department, one CIA, one NSA, and one of Hap’s men.”

  Wilson swallowed hard. “Tell me they’re in custody.”

  “Five of them are still at large. Three FBI agents, the CIA operative, and Hap’s man.”

  There was dead silence on the line as Wilson digested the information. “There are eight men following us,” he said.

  “How…”

  “Don’t ask. We saw them last in Boothbay Harbor. They’re driving a red Jeep Cherokee, a dark blue Ford Taurus, a beige Taurus, and a black, bullet-pocked Range Rover.”

  “I’ll run a check on the vehicles. Let us protect you, Wilson.”

  “Look Ms. Kohl,” Wilson said, “I’m not suggesting you don’t already know this, but let me underscore it for you. These people are ruthless and relentless. They have their own death squads. They believe anyone can be corrupted at any time and they won’t stop until they’ve won. Do you understand me? They want us dead. They want my family dead.”

  After a long pause, Kohl responded, “More than twenty FBI agents have lost their lives since three o’clock this morning. Some of them were close personal friends. We’ve made over two hundred arrests and we expect to double that by midnight. Believe me, Mr. Fielder, we understand.”

  “Have you found Swatling or Tate?”

  “No, but the NSA and CIA are on it.”

  Just then the automated operator came on line, asking for another deposit. Wilson quickly deposited a handful of quarters. “Why the NSA and CIA?”

  “We have reason to believe that Tate and Swatling are no longer in the country.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “Somewhere in Europe.”

  “Italy?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Have you heard from Carter?” Wilson asked.

  “No,” she said, pausing again. “The undercover agents at Stanford who were in contact with Carter in case we needed information to maintain their covers were murdered early this morning. The
men who did it are in custody.”

  Wilson collected his thoughts. “Have you talked to Detective Zemke in Sun Valley?” he asked.

  “No. Why?”

  “You haven’t listened to the tape?”

  “What tape?”

  “An overnight package from Zemke should have arrived at Fielder & Company this morning. Open it. Listen to the tape and then contact Zemke. I think it will shed some new light on what you’re up against.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “It was Carter who shot my father. And, right now, I’m not sure what he’s up to. Tate and Swatling have gone to Europe to either persuade him or kill him.”

  Kohl remained silent, but Wilson could hear her exhaling with a sigh.

  “Find Hap. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Wilson said. He hung up the phone before she could respond. He hated to admit it, but there was nothing more he could do to ensure the safety of his family. They were now in Kirsten Kohl’s hands. He could only pray that Hap Greene was still alive. His first impulse was to find another boat and take off for Canada, but that would present other dangers, especially in this weather.

  Just to be safe, Wilson made arrangements with Mo Bobicki to sleep on the sixty-foot charter sailboat docked at the marina. He returned to the loft and told Emily about his conversation with Kohl. When it got dark, they pulled the blinds over the windows of the loft and left the television and lights on, and then exited through the inside stairway to the restaurant. They bought a bottle of wine and sandwiches before leaving the restaurant through the back door and slipping into the trees. When they emerged from the trees onto the road between the Marina Restaurant and a row of beachfront homes and condos on the cliffs overlooking the cove, they were unrecognizable. They had borrowed slickers with hoods from the restaurant and were walking as if they’d just left a cocktail party. Wilson carried the bottle of wine in his hand and Emily carried the sandwiches and two wine glasses. Luckily, it was still drizzling outside.