Athena Force: Books 1-6

by Justine Davis, Amy J. Fetzer, Katherine Garbera, Meredith Fletcher, Catherine Mann

  “That’s a corny line and I think you got it from Top Gun.”

  “I know it’s one of your favorite movies. And if it worked for Cruise it should work for me.”

  “How do you know I like that movie?”

  “Alex mentioned it the last time we were at our grandfather’s house. It was on TV late at night, and we were hunkered down in the den eating salty popcorn.”

  “With your grandfather?”

  “Don’t let the old man’s image fool you. Underneath that retired-CIA-director facade, he’s still just a grandfather.”

  She knew that Charles Forsythe was responsible for how both Alex and Ben turned out. She wondered if the shrewd old man realized that Ben was more than a globe-trotting playboy. Probably.

  She pulled back and leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms over her chest. Ben stared at her, one eyebrow arched in question. She had the feeling he’d wait all day if that was what it took.

  Finally she sighed. She didn’t like being reminded that Ben had a close-knit family. She shouldn’t have allowed him to become involved in this story. “I don’t want to put you at risk.”

  “I’ve got news for you, Tory. If you’re at risk, I’m not leaving you alone.”

  She wasn’t ready to have a man in her face like this. Ben disturbed her on many different levels, and the scary part was that sometimes, deep in the night when she was all alone, she liked it.

  “One of my sources was shot after asking some questions for me.”

  “Your brother, Derrick, right?”

  “How did you…?” She trailed off. He did know everything. “Yes, my brother. I don’t want you in danger, either.”

  “I’ll consider myself warned.”

  She didn’t want him just warned. She wanted him safe. And Ben wasn’t the kind of man she could tell to stay put. He’d been trained probably since childhood to right wrongs and seek justice. “Ben…”

  “Tory…”

  “You are so damned stubborn.”

  “Yeah, it’s one of my more appealing qualities.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “I will. In the meantime, what’s going on with this story?”

  She crossed the room to the padded armchair. “King’s team definitely witnessed something or saw someone they shouldn’t have. I have a friend trying to get the satellite surveillance photos from that night. From what Tom remembered, I think the hostages were already dead before the team got there.”

  “It fits what I’ve been told.”

  “What else do you know?”

  “I’ll tell you when you’re done.”

  “I’ve spent the afternoon on the phone and on the Internet, tracking down information. So far, I know that Ambassador Dave Addler was still on the island along with another high-ranking official—I’ve haven’t found out who yet. I also know that Addler retired really quickly after the SEAL incident.”

  “Have you spoken to Addler?”

  “Not yet. I’m going to see him later today. He might be able to tell me more about the hostage situation.”

  “I can fill you in on some details there. The hostages were part of Doctors without Borders. Three men, one woman. They’d been on the island for about nine months when they were captured by a group of anti-American drug runners and coca ranchers.”

  “Did they demand anything for the hostages?”

  “Yes. That the U.S. continue to provide financial aid to the government and back down on its total eradication of the coca-leaf policy.”

  She processed that. “Why kill the SEAL team, then?”

  “I don’t have that information. I asked a few questions when we got back and was told to forget about it and move on.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that very same thing.”

  Tory and Ben had split up when they left her hotel room. He’d offered to let her stay at his apartment in Crystal City, Virginia. Tory wanted to so badly but in the end she’d said no. Ben distracted her and she needed to think clearly to pull this story together. Besides, she didn’t want to risk the two of them being seen in public together.

  She took the Metro Redline to Georgetown and walked the few blocks from the station to Addler’s residence. The sun was shining this afternoon, and though the high was only fifty degrees, Tory was comfortable in her overcoat. She adjusted the purse camera, pausing to turn it on outside the former ambassador’s residence.

  The housekeeper answered the door and directed her down a short hallway to Addler’s den. Addler was in his sixties but fit and trim. His hair was gray but not thinning. He held a cigar loosely in one hand. He stood when she entered the room.

  He wore a pair of khaki chinos and a button-down Oxford shirt with the cuffs rolled back. She noticed he had a black tattoo on his forearm. She wondered if he’d gotten it in Vietnam. Her dad had one from back then.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Addler. Thanks for taking the time to see me.”

  “No problem, Ms. Patton. Please call me Dave.”

  “And I’m Tory.”

  Addler resumed his seat and gestured for Tory to sit in one of the leather armchairs. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I’m trying to do some background on a more in-depth story I’m working on about Puerto Isla. I had a chance to talk to several locals while I was on the island and I’d like to get a different perspective of what was going on when Tom King and his team went in to rescue the Doctors without Borders hostages.”

  “Well, it was very chaotic. I’ve heard the island is a lot better now that Del Torro is in charge. Fighting between the government and the people was erratic. Santiago kept most of them under control with his militia. But then Juan Perez and Del Torro banded together. Once they started getting organized, it was the beginning of the end for Santiago.”

  “But Del Torro’s government has even stronger ties with our country than the old government, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” He leaned back in his chair and took a drag on his cigar. He pivoted in his chair and looked out the window.

  Tory had a feeling that he was looking at Puerto Isla in his mind. “Why is that?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at her and then spun back to face her. He set his cigar in a crystal ashtray and leaned forward, elbows resting on the top of his mahogany desk. “I can’t really say. I’m no longer the ambassador there.”

  “No, you’re not. But you are very familiar with Central America.” Tory wasn’t sure what to ask to get him to open up. What she really wanted to know was if Paul Terrence had ever visited the country. But she didn’t want to ask such a blatant question.

  “I can only say that someone wants us to believe that things have changed on Puerto Isla.”

  “Haven’t they?” she asked.

  Addler shrugged. “Was that all you wanted to know?”

  “No. Who called in the SEALs?”

  “I did.”

  “Would you walk me through the taking of the hostages, and your office’s involvement?”

  “We were notified of the hostages almost immediately. We verified they’d been taken and I asked for military assistance in retrieving them.”

  “Who from the military did you talk to?”

  “General McKinley.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I was put in contact with King. I gave him the coordinates and I didn’t hear anything more about the team until I learned they’d all been killed.”

  “Did you know King had been taken prisoner?”

  “No. I believed they had all been killed.”

  Tory jotted a few notes on her notepad. Though she was recording the interview on her secret camera, she wanted a written account of the interview, as well.

  “How long were you in Puerto Isla?”

  “For two years.”

  “During that time were there
any other incidents like this one?”

  “Only one. It took place when I first arrived on the island.”

  “American hostages?”

  “Yes. But they were rescued.”

  “Who were they?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Interesting. “Did you have any visits from American officials while you were there?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know the coca-leaf topic was a hot one—was anyone ever sent down to discuss it with the government?”

  “No. After the SEAL incident and the killing of the hostages, the U.S. pulled completely out until the new government was put in place.”

  “Would you be willing to do an interview with me on air?” she asked. She knew it was a long shot. She wasn’t even sure Tyson would let her speak to him on air without prior approval. As far as protocol went, she was supposed to talk to Tyson or one of the producers before she scheduled an on-air interview. But she thought it was better to ask.

  “I think my contract with ABS precludes that. I’m already scheduled to do one with Shannon Conner.”

  She smiled. She definitely wasn’t doing any interviews that could be compared with Shannon’s. Tory planned to move beyond her rival in such a way that the two women would never be mentioned together again. “Thank you for speaking with me.”

  “Not at all. I hope I helped.”

  Not really, she thought. But then, he knew he hadn’t given her any answers. Was he hiding something? Her gut said he was. But she’d have to go away and come at this from a different angle.

  Chapter 14

  Tory returned to her hotel room in the Capitol district. She had a million things running through her head. She needed a break. She knew she was missing something vital and elemental to dissipating the cloud that hung over this story. Everyone she’d talked to had another piece of the puzzle and no matter how she twisted and turned them they wouldn’t fit together.

  What was the crux of the matter? Drugs definitely played a part, and a government official—possibly Paul Terrence or Dave Addler. And then there was the Puerto Isla government, and their odd tap dance involving the SEAL platoon and then the freedom of Thomas King.

  She typed up her notes and reviewed the interview with Addler. He was an interesting man. Her instincts said he wasn’t telling her the full truth. She did an Internet search on him and found out he’d spent his entire career in South and Central America.

  Tory recalled an interview she’d seen when the Addlers had returned to the States. Perry had produced the piece for veteran newscaster Cal Jones. He had to know more than he was willing to tell her. David Addler’s wife, Charlotte, had not liked living in Puerto Isla.

  Mrs. Addler was a beautiful woman but she’d been worn down by her time on the island. Tory replayed the interview in her head. She’d been in the editing room when Perry had put the piece together. They’d had a hard time finding shots of Mrs. Addler that worked. Her interview had been lackluster.

  Tory grabbed the phone and placed a call to the Addler residence.

  “May I speak to Charlotte Addler, please?”

  “Who is calling?”

  “Perry Jacobs’s office from UBC. We’re doing a follow-up to our previous interview.” She’d just been in the house, so she didn’t want the housekeeper to realize who she was.

  “Hold, please.”

  Tory waited.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Addler is traveling. May I take a message?”

  “When do you expect her return?”

  “I’d be happy to relay a message to her.”

  “With whom am I speaking?”

  “The housekeeper, Mrs. Tolleron.”

  “Did you work for the Addlers when they were on Puerto Isla?”

  “No. Is that all?”

  “Yes.” Tory disconnected the call. It wasn’t the lead she’d hoped for.

  Tory rubbed the back of her neck. She was getting nowhere. She stood up and stretched. Then she fell backward onto the bed. Staring at the ceiling, she tried to quiet all the questions spinning around in her mind but she couldn’t.

  She reached for the camera purse and pulled the small unit toward her. Rolling over onto her stomach, she sprawled on the king-size bed in the middle of her suite and sorted her notes into piles. She watched the tape of Addler one more time and spotted a picture on the wall over his desk that she hadn’t noticed when she’d been in his den.

  It was a photo of Dave and Chris Pearson. Tory froze the frame and squinted at the small screen. They were on a boat in a marina. The coastline looked familiar to Tory. She’d been to that marina with her brother and his family a few years ago. Was it Miami or Boca?

  She jotted down the time code. Later when she went to the studio, she’d check the tape in one of the edit bays. She could zoom in and out and maybe find what she was looking for.

  Her cell phone rang and she answered it, hoping it was Terrence’s office calling about an interview.

  “Hey, it’s Josie.”

  Tory couldn’t help but smile. After the long day she’d had, it was nice to finally hear a friendly voice on the phone. “Hey. Did you get my e-mail on Tom King?”

  “Yes. If he taught at Athena, and the fertility clinic where his sperm was stored was broken into around the time of Rainy’s supposed appendectomy—that’s too much for coincidence.”

  “I agree. We need to make sure that Shannon doesn’t get this information. God knows what kind of bizarro story she’d do.” Tory didn’t want to tell her friends that the Athena story leak to Shannon had been her doing. She felt as if she’d brought a viper into their home and hadn’t recognized it for too long.

  She wanted revenge against Perry, but a part of her could understand why he’d gone after Shannon. She’d analyzed his action and recognized it as a bid for Tory’s attention and love. The two things she’d never really been able to give him.

  “She wouldn’t have to make much up. Egg mining and stolen sperm—it sounds like a movie of the week on the sci-fi channel.”

  “I know. What were you calling about?” Tory asked. Not that she didn’t like chatting with Josie but she knew that her friend didn’t have excess time.

  “I traced your surveillance photos, and something weird was going on down there. Someone came in just as I’d located them. I wasn’t able to really analyze the photo and when I went back later it was gone.”

  “Did you see anything?”

  “Yes. A Chinook helicopter took off just as King’s team was raiding the camp.”

  “Wouldn’t they have heard it?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m betting they were doing airto-ground backup. The chopper was about ten miles from the base camp.”

  “My theory is that someone high up was there doing something illegal. What do you think?”

  “It’s possible. But can you prove anything?”

  “Not yet. But I know if I ask the right person the right question I won’t have to.”

  “Who is the right person?”

  “I’m not sure. Not yet. You got anything else for me?”

  “No. Listen, I heard about Derrick. You okay?”

  “Yes. He’s recovering,” Tory said. She knew she had to warn Josie. “He asked some questions for me, Josie. So watch your back.”

  “I will. Keep in touch and be careful,” Josie said before she hung up.

  A knock sounded at the door, and Tory climbed to her feet. “Who is it?”

  “Not room service,” Ben said.

  Tory opened the door. He strode into the room, seeming to fill the large space with his intensity. “Have I got a lead for you.”

  “Why are you helping me now?”

  “Because I don’t like the fact that I can’t get any answers and something’s not adding up. There’s only one reporter I trust to cover this story.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  Shivering in the dark and cold on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, Tory scanned
the crowd for Ruben Jimenez, a former Chinook helicopter pilot who had left the service. Military men weren’t allowed to talk to the press, and Tory realized how risky this was for Ruben and Ben both. Even though Ruben was retired. Ben was waiting a few blocks away in the car he’d rented. He’d wanted to come, but Tory had insisted that he stay behind.

  She’d never needed a man to do her job in the past and she didn’t want to start needing Ben now. She clicked on her purse camera.

  “Miss Patton?”

  Tory turned toward the shadows on the right of the monument and saw a man in his midtwenties. He wore dark jeans, a leather bomber jacket zipped to the throat and a scarf around his neck. His dark hair was close cropped, and his face held a maturity and seriousness that set him apart from his peers.

  “Yes. Ruben?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

  He stood stiffly, almost at attention. He scanned the light crowd of people milling up and down the monument stairs. On this chilly November evening not too many were brave enough to actually come out and linger.

  “No problem, ma’am. What do you want to know?” he asked. A slight Southern accent tinged his words. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

  “You were a helicopter pilot who flew in Puerto Isla?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Do you remember what happened during the SEAL mission?” she asked.

  He nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned down toward her. Speaking softly but clearly. “I was on a routine surveillance mission out in a remote location.”

  He smelled of Old Spice, nicotine and coffee. Tory was wearing heels so she was at least five foot five right now, but he still towered over her. “Do you know who the official was?”

  “General Joseph McKinley from army intelligence.”

  “Did you fly him often?”

  “Once a month we took him into the interior. Mostly we were on surveillance, providing air cover for the DEA and CIA guys on the ground who were raiding the ranches.”

  Interesting. She added this detail to the facts swirling inside her head. “Was this the first time other officials were on your chopper?”