Ranger: Intrepid 4.5

by Chris Allen

  “I think he’s on to something,” Morgan began. “At first I wasn’t sure. I was worried he’d gone a bit off the rails and was acting out of some kind of paranoia, but he’s as lucid as you and me. I’ll write this up and send it through because I suspect we’ll need to elevate it very soon. Meanwhile, the short version is that he has stumbled onto something that has the potential to be of significant embarrassment to the US and, depending on how long this has been going on – and I’m not yet sure exactly what is going on – it also has the potential of adding even more fire to the already volatile US/Russian relations.”

  “OK, well, you have certainly piqued my interest,” Sheridan replied. “What are the headlines?”

  “It all centers around this senator; a guy named Bartholomew T. Redmond.”

  “I’ve heard of Redmond, for sure. Pretty influential in DC these days and a Presidential hopeful for 2020, if memory serves.”

  “That’s him. He’s on a bunch of Senate committees involving defense, foreign relations, high-tech, appropriations; you name it. Well, Nash has observed Senator Redmond as a favored client of an exclusive sex club specializing in young women.”

  “How young we talking?”

  “School age, according the Nash.”

  “Jesus,” said Sheridan.

  “That’s just the first bit. Last night I personally observed Redmond entering the club in Georgetown. He was greeted at the door by a young woman named Erika Gustafsson who happens to be the executive assistant of a Danish millionaire by the name of Carl Frederik Budolfsen.”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell,” said Sheridan. “Who is he?”

  “I’ll come to that, but for now he’s an emerging player in the high-tech arena, with a growing influence in the research and development of next-generation UAV and drone technology, as well as being a major investor in artificial intelligence. I asked Melanie Vaughan to lean on some of her contacts in US law enforcement for me and she’s confirmed that Budolfsen’s company, NorseWorld, is a major investor in a number of US defense contracts linked directly to Senator Redmond.”

  “OK,” Sheridan replied. “So what I’m hearing so far is the possibility of multiple charges being brought against an influential senator, involving corruption and sex with minors. If we’re going to elevate this to the appropriate authorities, you and Nash better get me some seriously concrete evidence, Morgan.”

  “I’m working on that,” he replied. “But there’s more.”

  “You’re shitting me?”

  “Last night, we waited for Redmond to leave the club and then Nash had me follow the woman, Erika Gustafsson. I couldn’t see the point, I must admit. I was locked onto the sex and corruption angle myself, and all I wanted to do was follow the Senator. But Nash was mission focused. Our attention was on Gustafsson.”

  “OK, so you followed Gustafsson. Where did she land?”

  “Less than two miles from the club. She took a few lefts and rights, but we hung back far enough not to be seen. Within five minutes we watched her car pulling into the security perimeter of the Russian Embassy on Wisconsin Avenue.”

  “What time did you say this was?”

  “About twenty-three-thirty hours last night,” Morgan replied. “And right now you’re asking yourself, why the hell is the executive assistant of a Danish millionaire with connections to US Government defense contracts being whisked through the front gate of the Russian Embassy in Washington at eleven thirty at night?”

  “This really doesn’t look good for Senator Redmond, now, does it?”

  “No. It doesn’t. I’ve provided all the digital images I captured of Redmond and Gustafsson to Vaughan, and I’ve asked her to find whatever she can on Ms Gustafsson. It’ll be interesting to see what she turns up.”

  “It certainly will,” said Sheridan.

  Morgan wrapped up with Sheridan just as Vaughan appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m still running with the others but I think I may have something on your man Nash that’s kinda interesting. It may fit with that theory the VA guy hinted at.”

  “Great,” said Morgan. “Let’s have it.”

  Vaughan came in and sat down opposite Morgan. “I ran Nash’s name through the database and confirmed that he’s clean apart from one charge of vagrancy that was dropped when the cops discovered he was a Veteran. They tried to help him out but he refused and disappeared. Anyway, the cop who interviewed him happened to include in his report that Nash was steaming about being charged when there was crime happening all over the streets day and night, and that no one was doing anything about it. He made comments about citizens having to fend for themselves, no one to protect them, the system is screwed – stuff like that. It was enough for the cop to note it down, so I’m guessing it was an issue at the time.” Vaughan consulted the tablet she’d brought in with her. “So, on a hunch, I ran through the crime reports and stats for Northwest Washington where he’d been picked up, looking into incidents that have occurred in the area involving vigilante-style activity since Nash’s arrest. After all, a guy like Nash isn’t likely to be causing trouble but from what I’ve read in his military service records and the police report, and considering what he said, he’s just the type to take the law into his own hands. And it turns out, there’s been quite a few episodes.”

  Morgan was intrigued. It definitely made sense. “What sort of things are we talking about?”

  “Stopping an armed hold-up at a Seven-Eleven on 14th Street Northwest, for one. I’ve got a report here about a guy,” she read from the tablet, “who looked like a homeless person stepping into a Seven-Eleven in the middle of a hold-up. He disarmed two guys, asked the shop owner for some rope and told him to dial nine-one-one. Then he dragged the two crooks out into the street, hog-tied them to a bench and then disappeared.”

  “Jesus,” said Morgan. “I have to say, I can definitely see Nash doing that.”

  “I’ve got another report here about a guy – not described as homeless but generally fitting Nash’s physical description – who intervened in an assault on 18th Street Northwest where a bunch of young punks were trying to rob a guy who was walking with his wife. Apparently the couple was on the way to a restaurant when these guys attacked them. They were beating up on the husband pretty good and the wife was also assaulted when she tried to stop them kicking her husband while he was on the ground. Out of nowhere, a guy appears, beats the shit out of the punks – there were four of them – and chases them off. He retrieves the guy’s wallet and all the money, returns it to the husband and then stands with them until they’re safely in a cab. Didn’t take a cent that they offered. As the cab pulled away, they looked out to thank him again, but—”

  “He was gone,” said Morgan.

  “You got it,” Vaughan replied. “There are a string of others here that I’ll send to you. They’re all centered around 16th Street, which basically runs from Silver Spring right down through Northwest Washington all the way downtown to the White House. All similar types of situations; normal folks in trouble and this guardian angel suddenly appears, gets them safe again and sends them on their way. And then he just disappears.”

  “Like Batman,” said Morgan absently.

  “Just like Batman” she replied. “The common thread to all of them, and the reason they caught my eye, was that every witness reported some kind of military reference in their descriptions of the vigilante. His manner and respectfulness to the victims was like a soldier. His language – said sir and ma’am a lot – like soldiers do. Even the descriptions of how he dispatched the crooks. It was controlled. He was calm and methodical – like he’d been in the military.”

  “Makes sense. It’ll be interesting to see if the dates of these incidents link with the dates of Nash’s episode-related disappearances that Rob McDowell mentioned. And, yeah, McDowell was definitely reluctant to share his theory but he did suggest it was tied to stuff happening around DC.”

  “If this vigilante is Nash, I would just advise cauti
on with regard to how much you commit to doing with him from here on,” said Vaughan. “Given the people he’s messing around with now – like our friend the Senator, for starters – he’s catapulted himself from dealing with petty street criminals to being completely out of his league. And if he is prone to these episodes, then we need to help him before he gets himself and you into anything bigger than even we can deal with. You know him better than I, so whatever you decide to do I’ll have your back. Just tread carefully.”

  Two hours later, Morgan was parking the hire car near the Veterans Affairs Community Resource and Referral Center on Franklin Street and strolling up to the entrance. Vaughan was right, of course. This revelation that Nash could very well be the vigilante described in all those police reports had suddenly put a whole new spin on Morgan’s approach to the situation. There was enough information now, along with detailed digital images, for Morgan to be able to hand everything over formally to the FBI – via Interpol – and then Morgan could focus on getting Nash the help that he deserved to get back on his feet. When he’d left Nash last night, they’d agreed to meet at a place called The Diner on 18th Street around 6pm to talk over next steps. Nash had again refused Morgan’s offer of accommodation but he had, after some persistence from Morgan, finally agreed to allow Morgan to buy dinner while they swapped notes. Morgan checked his TAG – 3pm. Plenty of time to chat with McDowell before he met with Nash.

  In the office, McDowell had the harried, unkempt appearance of someone who preferred to be out in the field rather than being constrained indoors amid the bureaucracy of government. Morgan knew the feeling. It was hard for ex-soldiers to sit still; most of them needed to find work that was either completely outdoors or at least had some level of activity to balance against being stuck in an office. Morgan decided to drag McDowell out for a walk along Franklin Street.

  “I’ve been through John Nash’s file again, since you called,” said McDowell. “And I extracted the dates from the file notes I made whenever he had one of his episodes. I’m not sure how much help they’re going to be though.”

  He took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Morgan. It was a list of a dozen or more dates, each with accompanying comments detailing what had occurred at the time: February 15, failed to show for meeting; April 25, failed to show for medical; June 5, not present at soup kitchen and so on. Morgan stopped walking for a moment and compared McDowell’s dates against the dates he’d recorded in his phone from the police reports of vigilante activity Vaughan had compiled. They matched. Morgan started walking again.

  “Tell me about this theory of yours, Rob,” he said. “The other night you said we could come back to it some time. Now’s that time.”

  McDowell was silent for a few moments, thinking. Morgan sensed he was struggling to respond without potentially betraying a confidence or at the very least disrespecting his friend, but Morgan didn’t want to prompt him or put words in his mouth. He had to hear McDowell’s version of events without influencing it in any way.

  “I’ve been friends with Nash a long time, you know,” McDowell began. “Right through Ranger school and pretty much the rest of the time we were in uniform. Shit, I reckon I know him probably better than he knows himself. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to help him all this time. It’s personal. So, I’d set up these catch-ups so I could see how he was doing – because he wouldn’t accept any of the help we could offer him officially through VA. When he started missing them, it occurred to me that something had changed in him, like there was a reason he didn’t want to get help. Like he had something he had to do, you know. He wasn’t ready yet. I’d just try to make the most of it when he did eventually show up. Then I started reading about these things happening around DC, and realized that they were happening usually within a day or so of when Nash was supposed to be meeting with me. The first one or two, I just shrugged off. Told myself I was being fucking paranoid. After three or four of them, I knew it was a lot more than just coincidence.”

  “What kind of things were happening?” asked Morgan.

  “In my job, I gotta keep an eye on the small print in the local news. I go looking for stories that may involve Vets who are in trouble. Throughout the past year there have been all these reports about a vigilante operating in DC, but the incidents have been such small change that they only ever get an inch or two of column space. I read and re-read these stories and then I started cross-referencing them against the dates when Nash didn’t show for our meetings. And, well, I guess you can see where I’m going with this. Paranoid, right?”

  “Not really,” Morgan replied. “You said yourself that you know him better than anyone. There’s something in all that knowledge of your friend that you’re carrying around that meant it wasn’t a stretch for you to imagine him as the vigilante the news articles are reporting on. You just didn’t want to believe it.”

  “So you think I’m right?”

  “Yeah, I do. I needed your notes to confirm it, and I needed to hear it from you, too – horse’s mouth, and all that. The biggest issue we have now is how do we get him to agree to dropping this vigilante role that he’s created for himself and to come in and accept the help he needs, before it’s too late.”

  “But what about this thing he needs your help with? What’s happening with that? He’s spent a whole lot of time obsessing about getting hold of you. You’ve seen him twice now. Are you saying that whatever it was, it’s all done?”

  “Far from it,” said Morgan. “It’s a long way from done, in fact. It’s just that Nash’s part of it is over now. He’s done as much as he can do on his own and it’s up to me to … clean it up. I’m meeting with him in a couple of hours to talk through my plan with him and let him know he can stand down. He has achieved his mission.”

  “Good luck, is all I can say,” said McDowell.

  “You don’t agree with me telling Nash it’s time to pull out?”

  “No, not at all. I completely agree. I wish he’d never got himself into all this shit. It’s just that, well, I know how important it was for him to get you here. He kept saying it was going to be fucking huge. Now, you’ve been here two days and you’re already wrapping it up. I have a feeling that’s not going to be enough for Nash. If you’re going to call in the cavalry and he’s not going to be in on the action then, yeah, I think he’ll take some convincing.”

  Morgan pondered that possibility for a while. He was obviously still considering Nash in the way he had always thought of him – as an equal – and, quite deliberately, it had been the approach he had taken in dealing with him this time around to ensure that he showed Nash respect. However, McDowell was much closer to Nash and much more familiar with him than Morgan. He’d known Nash for years and so was in a much better position to make an assessment based on the comparison of the man he had been and the man he was today. Morgan would be foolish not to heed his advice.

  “I see what you mean,” he said. “Rather than delivering my proposed outcome as a fait accompli, I’ll take him through it and get his opinion; invite him to suggest an alternate option and then see where that takes us. The last thing I want to do is devalue what he’s accomplished and send him off on one of his episodes.”

  “I think that’ll work,” McDowell replied. “As long as he feels he’s not being sidelined then you should be OK. By the way, what exactly was it that he needed you for so desperately?”

  Morgan smiled. “It’s complicated but I’ll tell you about it some other time.”

  “Like my theory, right?”

  “Exactly,” said Morgan. “I’ll tell you once I’ve managed to wrap it up.”

  “Understood. Well, if you can help Nash out then hopefully we can have a few beers at the end of this and really catch up on old times.”

  “You’re on,” said Morgan, shaking McDowell’s left hand. “Meanwhile, I’ll check in with you later, once I’ve spoken to him.”

  As he watched McDowell head back to the VA office,
Morgan realized that he was conflicted about Nash. The fact that the man wasn’t an operator anymore didn’t mean that he did not still have value. Far from it. Regardless of where life had taken him, Nash was and always would be a soldier, just the same as anyone else who had pulled on a uniform at some point in their life and signed a blank check to their country payable up to and including every last drop of their own blood. Morgan had to push past the current version of Nash as a homeless person, and see the man for who he was at his core. A Veteran who had served his country, risked his life on multiple occasions and would be prepared to do it all again. Morgan owed it to Nash to see this last mission through and he’d do everything he could to acknowledge and respect Nash’s part in it. Most importantly, he’d do everything he could to ensure that Nash was kept clear of any criminal charges, should anyone else manage to connect the dots linking him to DC’s elusive vigilante.

  Promptly at 6pm, Alex Morgan was sitting at a table in the far back corner of The Diner with clear views of the entrance and the street and close enough to the kitchen to use it as an exit if necessary. He ordered coffee and decided to wait for Nash to arrive before ordering food. After leaving McDowell, he’d driven back to the Interpol office at Justice over on Pennsylvania Avenue and checked in with Vaughan, who was still gathering intelligence on Redmond, Gustafsson and Budolfsen. Given the sensitivities involved, subtlety was key. Vaughan had to tread carefully, which meant taking extra time. Morgan didn’t want to draw anyone’s attention to the fact that Intrepid was investigating the three of them because at this point it was purely background. If word leaked around Washington that Interpol were investigating Senator Redmond then the chances of pursuing criminal charges against him would collapse in a heap. Morgan and Vaughan had agreed they would reconvene in the morning; hopefully that would allow enough time for the Intrepid intelligence team back in London to piece together whatever they could from a European perspective as well as the American angles. In the meantime, Vaughan would update Morgan immediately should any critical information come through.