Hard Target (A Jon Reznick Thriller)

by J. B. Turner

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Martha.”

  “Don’t patronize me. I’m wondering if Brad Firskin, who I know very well, will be interested in what we’ve found out about your operation. I’ve got to be honest, it’s rather alarming.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the leaked document intercepted by hackers that talks about neutralizing Rosalind Dyer.”

  Charles smiled. “I believe I know what you’re referring to. It was an internal draft document. The person who wrote it is no longer working for my company. And his use of inflammatory language is inexcusable and deeply regrettable. I’m guessing that’s where the misunderstanding arose. It was a lighthearted but ill-thought-out first-draft memo, as far as I can remember.”

  “Who drafted it?”

  “I’ll need to speak to my attorney. But I can get you that information within forty-eight hours, I’d imagine.”

  “Someone wants Rosalind Dyer dead.”

  Charles looked at O’Donoghue, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange. “I was just discussing the matter of Rosalind Dyer with Bill. We go way back.”

  O’Donoghue nodded.

  “And I was trying to give some background about my role and my company. I’d like to focus on what Rosalind Dyer is alleged to have done. Serious criminality. Think Edward Snowden. Chelsea Manning. Appalling. She’s stolen classified files not only from the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, but also from the Department of Defense. And the Pentagon contacted me accordingly to try and resolve the situation. We’re talking about our national interests. And that’s why she can’t be allowed to give testimony tomorrow.”

  “I’m not buying it.”

  Charles shrugged. “It’s the truth. You want to know another reason?”

  Meyerstein folded her arms. “Try me.”

  “Rosalind Dyer, if she takes the stand tomorrow, not only will embarrass the government, the United States, and the CIA, but will almost certainly expose herself to the cruel light of day. She will be ridiculed.”

  “What are you getting at, Max?” O’Donoghue asked.

  “Let me explain,” Charles said. “And don’t get me wrong, Martha, I know what you’re probably thinking about me. That I’m an old-school Cold War relic. Reactionary. Perhaps I was at one time. I’m not perfect, like everyone else. But I have always put my country’s needs first.”

  “As do I,” Meyerstein said.

  “No doubt. Here’s the thing. And this is a very important point. A point that has not been raised about this woman.”

  “This woman?” Meyerstein said. “Is that how you refer to her?”

  O’Donoghue shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  Charles cleared his throat. “I have it on good authority, from a source with impeccable credentials, that Rosalind Dyer is an unhinged woman. She is very unstable.”

  Meyerstein shook her head. “Bullshit. I think you’re lying. In fact, she’s a highly intelligent woman, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “She’s also delusional. And increasingly so.”

  “You’re a lying son of a bitch.”

  “Listen, I’ve spoken to doctors about this. They have told me that she is on medication for schizophrenia. She has talked about hearing voices. And that’s what this is all about. She’s absolutely delusional, embarrassingly so.”

  “I don’t believe it. This is a pretty low-down tactic. It’s disgusting. And I don’t buy it. Trying to pretend she’s crazy? Oldest trick in the book.”

  Charles sighed. “It’s hard to hear, I understand. I have a role to play in reaching a solution we can all live with. The optics don’t look good, I get that. An old CIA guy trying to stop this woman from talking.”

  “Whatever happened to free speech?” Meyerstein said. “The First Amendment?”

  “It’s what this country is founded on,” Charles said. “But Rosalind Dyer can cause incredible harm to this country if she takes the stand. Everyone at the DCIS knows she’s out of her mind.”

  “Show me the proof.”

  “I’ll get that to you.”

  “When?”

  “I need to get the information cleared. Might take a day or two. Two government psychologists deemed her unstable after she bombarded the chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee with emails morning, noon, and night. She’s not well.”

  “Then why hasn’t she been hospitalized before now?”

  “She needs medical treatment. It’s a sin that it’s gotten this far.”

  “Do you mind explaining the killing of a young man down in a Miami warehouse, at the hands of masked men? Allegedly looking for copies of this memo outlining a plan to neutralize Rosalind Dyer? The memo written by your company.”

  Charles held up his hand. “Let’s be clear one more time. The employee who wrote that had no authority to do so. He was a kid. It was irresponsible. And he was fired. I assume what he meant was that her threat to the country had to be neutralized. His language had zero finesse. But it’s certainly not what you’re making it out to be. And there is no connection between that innocuous private message and this act in Miami of which I know nothing.”

  “That strains credulity.”

  Charles shifted on the sofa, hands clasped, as if giving Meyerstein his full attention. “So what happened down in Miami?”

  “A young hacker was shot by masked men in a warehouse loft in Overtown.”

  “I know that area well. That is an incredibly high-crime area. Home invasion, right?”

  “That’s not what we think.”

  “Really?”

  “You were found to be communicating with the men after they came to DC. I have the voice audio. And we know who they are. I’ll play it for you.”

  Charles’s waxy complexion visibly sagged. It was as if the wind had been taken out of him. He regained his composure quickly, glancing at O’Donoghue before fixing his icy gaze on Meyerstein. “Is this some sort of joke? Some of these hackers, they’re radicals. They want to overthrow our government by any means possible. Fabrication, fake news, phony stuff. It chips away at what’s real and what’s not. You know as well I do, Martha, that there’s a thing called voice morphing. I’m assuming you’ve heard of it.”

  Meyerstein bristled at his patronizing tone. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I’m sorry, I was just about to explain.”

  “Don’t bother. I know all about voice morphing. Software that replicates speech patterns. Developed at Los Alamos. Are you seriously saying this recording isn’t you?”

  “What other explanation is there? It’s bullshit. Sounds like someone is yanking your chain, Martha. I swear to God, this is the type of pervasive psychological operation that the Russians are so good at. I’ve got to give them their due. They had you fooled, pulling the wool over your eyes.”

  “No one is pulling the wool over my eyes. Believe me. Want to know something else? Jon Reznick discovered a weapon and ammo hidden under the floorboards of an apartment overlooking the Hart Senate Office Building. Was that part of a psychological operation carried out by foreign agents?”

  “Who knows? Maybe.”

  Meyerstein shook her head. “You sound ridiculous.”

  “So where is this weapon?”

  “Somewhere safe. I have photos.”

  “Are either the gun or ammo still in the apartment?”

  “There was no trace of anything when we got to the apartment.”

  Charles shrugged. “No disrespect, Martha, but you need to check out that Jon Reznick and the people he hangs out with. I’ve seen this sort of thing before. A guy with an incredible track record like Reznick goes rogue. PTSD. Flashbacks. Are we sure he isn’t behind all this and trying to cover his ass? I know people who worked with him and trained with him at Fort Bragg. Real tough guys. And they all say the same thing. Stay away from him. He’s going to bring the FBI into disrepute. He’s a fucking nutcase, Martha.”

  “That’s
enough!” Meyerstein snapped. “You are linked to this. And we are investigating. You need to lawyer up.”

  “Martha, listen to me. All you have is a paranoid little hacker, Trevelle Williams, and a crazy lady named Rosalind Dyer who’s an embarrassment to the DCIS and a traitor to this country.”

  O’Donoghue cleared his throat. “Play the recording, Martha.”

  Meyerstein took out her cell phone. “Are you sure?”

  O’Donoghue nodded.

  Charles displayed empty hands, as if pleading for help. “Bill, come on, you can’t be serious? I come in here to give the FBI a heads-up about the ramifications of this woman giving evidence, and now I’m hearing that I’m in the picture? Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

  O’Donoghue said, “Play the recording, Martha. I want to hear what you’ve got.”

  Meyerstein scrolled to the audio clip that had been sent over, then pressed play. The conversation between Reznick and Charles was unmistakable. Pristine. The silence in the room afterward was deafening. “That’s you, Max,” she said. “Or should I say Thomas McAleese. Why didn’t you like that name, Thomas?”

  Charles stared at her with fury burning in his eyes. “No idea what you’re talking about. But the faked voice is a very good match, I’ll give you that.”

  “You want Dyer dead, you tried to bribe Jon Reznick—I’m sure the lawyers will have a field day with this, Max.”

  Charles stood. “I’ve tried to be nice and reasonable, and all I get back in return are lies. Fakery. I will be reporting back directly to the President’s national security adviser. He’s waiting, as we speak, on an update. And he’ll be wondering why the FBI aren’t looking for Rosalind Dyer. Now I hear that Reznick is hiding this traitor, working alongside this crazy hacker and his friends.”

  Meyerstein stared at Charles. She wondered how she was keeping herself in check.

  “Are you dragging your feet on this because you’re involved with him? Is that it, Martha? Do you have an inappropriate relationship with this Reznick? How would it look if that information came out?”

  “Max, you’re the one who’s being completely inappropri—” O’Donoghue began, but Meyerstein interrupted.

  “You listen to me, you piece of shit. My relationship with Jon Reznick is purely professional. Reznick is a true patriot.”

  “Are you sure? Not what I hear. People are talking about you two. About how you’re very tight with Mr. Reznick.” He looked from O’Donoghue to Meyerstein. “But . . . that’s how it is? Then I need to speak to Mr. Firskin. Make no mistake: Rosalind Dyer needs to be tracked down and arrested without further delay.” He turned to leave. “Nice talking to you, Bill. You’ll be hearing from Firskin within the hour.”

  Thirty-One

  The hours dragged on in the Georgetown townhouse, making Reznick restless. He sat in the kitchen by himself, thinking of the seven men Rosalind Dyer claimed had been killed for investigating the case.

  The more he learned, the more he was concerned that Rosalind was going to be killed the following day.

  He fixed two cups of coffee.

  Reznick felt like he needed another face-to-face with Rosalind. She was in the living room by herself watching television, Fifi and Trevelle upstairs noodling on their computers.

  Rosalind glanced up at him as entered the room. “I’m assuming you haven’t sold me out yet.”

  “You assume correct.”

  Rosalind smiled. “What’s on your mind?”

  Reznick handed her a cup of coffee. “You look like you could do with some caffeine.” He sat down on the sofa opposite. “I’m glad we’ve got another chance to talk, face-to-face, just me and you. And I’m glad I know the full story now. And this informs what I have to say.”

  “Jon, I’ve made up my mind.”

  “Hear me out. Seven men have paid with their lives already, trying to do what you’re about to do.”

  “Which is exactly why I need to do it.”

  “The methods these people are deploying are terrifying. And I speak as someone who knows a thing or two about how this type of thing works. Max Charles, former CIA, is the guy who is orchestrating this, but on whose behalf? We haven’t scratched the surface on that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “He is acting on behalf of an individual, corporation, or government. Maybe all three. And money is no problem for people like that. So is he working on behalf of the American government to suppress one of their employees, namely you?”

  Dyer stared into her coffee.

  Reznick forged ahead. “Charles is pulling strings. But who for? That’s what worries me most.”

  “Jon, this isn’t making me feel any better or stronger.”

  Reznick leaned forward, voice low. “You need to be sure, totally sure, that you know exactly the risks that you will face if you give evidence. Even if we can protect you from Charles’s men, what’s to stop whoever hired him from trying to get to you a different way?”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me. I think we’ve got to start with, who does my death benefit? The answer? The American government? Perhaps. The Joint Chiefs of Staff? The Pentagon? Most certainly. My revelations will be dynamite. Imagine what will happen when the committee is told about the links to the seven deaths.”

  “Not to mention your lawyer’s.”

  “Precisely. And the Pentagon knows and has been trying to silence me internally for months. Sidelining me.”

  Reznick sighed. “They’re not going to stop coming after you. I’m going to be up front with you. I found a couple of Guatemalan ex-military guys. Nasty bastards. But they won’t be the only ones.”

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I want you to understand the real threat you’re under. The two men I took out will be just one of several teams tasked with making sure you don’t testify. If one fails, the other will be activated. Plan A, plan B, plan C, and so on.”

  Dyer had her head in her hands.

  “Your lawyer? Dead. That was a warning. Sometimes it’s smart to heed warnings.”

  “Don’t you see what I’m trying to do?” she said, raising her head. “I’m trying to tell the American people the truth about some of the most senior men in our military, who are supposed to be protecting the country and instead care more about enriching themselves than doing their duty as patriots. It’s the military-industrial complex as the mafia.”

  Dyer shook her head. “I want to sit in front of the chair of the committee and tell him how the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Franklin D. Ross, has somehow acquired assets totaling four hundred and fifty million dollars. On a salary of one hundred and ninety thousand dollars a year. I want everyone to sit up and take notice of the waste. But more than that, I want to bring justice to those seven men and their families.”

  Reznick sighed. “What about your family? Are you prepared to see your husband alone, without his wife?”

  Dyer stared at him, shocked at his strident tone. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “What if you die? What about the impact on your family? Your children. Your husband.”

  “This is about something bigger than my family.”

  “Nothing is bigger than your family. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I lost my wife on 9/11 and not a day passes that I don’t grieve. Grieving for what we should have had. The years we should have spent together. I might’ve been a different person. But instead I’m locked in this shadowy world. Do you really want your loved ones to lose you?”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “Rosalind, goddamn, it’s a wake-up call! I’m your alarm clock! Don’t get me wrong, you are brave, fearless, and a true American. You know right from wrong. But sometimes it’s better to just say fuck it, who cares about corruption? Accept that it’s always going to be there.”

  “What about the seven men who died? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, Jon.”

  “That’s not true. You would.
We turn the other cheek, day in, day out. We have to.”

  “Haven’t you put your life on the line?”

  Reznick took a gulp of the hot coffee. “Yeah.”

  “And what about the impact on your daughter. You have a daughter, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Your work has affected her, I’d imagine, in some ways?”

  “In many ways, my world has encroached on hers. And I feel sick every time it happens. But you can make a different choice.”

  Dyer ran her hands through her hair. A faraway look came into her eyes. “My father, he always said I was headstrong. He wanted me to join the Feds.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “He was a special agent back in the 1980s and 1990s. Retired now.”

  “What was wrong with the FBI?”

  Dyer shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I was attracted to the stability of being based in DC. I’m not big on firing guns, honestly. I also didn’t want to get assigned to a field office.”

  “Tell me about your husband. How does he feel about all this?”

  “Travis? He works from home. He codes. He makes websites. And he looks after the kids. He drives them to soccer and the usual school stuff. But how does he feel? He thinks I’m doing the right thing. But he’s starting to get worried. The FBI raiding our house with a warrant talking about stealing classified documents unnerved him. It’s crazy, right?”

  Reznick sensed she had already made up her mind and would not budge, no matter what happened. “You really are determined to see this through, aren’t you?”

  “I am . . . but what you’re saying, it’s true. What about the impact on my husband? What about my children? What if something does happen? I try not to think about it. I’m trying to block it out.”

  “Rosalind, the people after you are resourceful. I got lucky discovering their base near the Hart building. They had a direct line of sight that would make it a piece of cake for a sniper to take you out. That’s the stone-cold reality. I hope I disrupted their original plan enough to make it tougher for them to pull it off tomorrow, but we’d both be naive if we thought eliminating their base of operations removed the threat.”