“Better let me look at that,” Sky said.
Virgil winced as she pulled away the gauze.
“Not so tough now, are you, big guy?”
Virgil smiled. “Very funny. Truth is, it hurts like hell.”
“You didn’t fall down the stairs, did you?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re a worse liar than you are a dancer. How did you do this? What really happened?”
Virgil gritted his teeth as Sky patted the gash with a hydrogen peroxide compress she had prepared from the safety kit.
“I was running and fell over a woodpile behind Communion Hall.”
“Running? Why?”
Virgil moved his leg, put his foot on the floor.
“I’m not finished,” Sky said.
“It’s okay,” Virgil smiled. “It feels better already.” He patted the bed. “You’d better sit down. Remember what I said earlier? That what I had to talk to you about might seem a little crazy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, here goes. When I was making my rounds tonight, I overheard an argument coming from Prophet’s room. I couldn’t help but hear what they were saying.”
“They?”
“Prophet, Cassandra and Fallon. Fallon was doing most of the talking. He accused Prophet of… murder.”
“Murder?” Sky replied. “You can’t be serious!”
“I know how it sounds,” Virgil said, “but that’s what I heard. He said Prophet should have killed Amanda when he killed her parents.”
“How did Prophet respond?”
“That’s the thing. He didn’t. Cassandra knows about the murders as well. According to her, he had a right to kill them. It has something to do with Amanda. What exactly, I don’t know. But I know this much. They didn’t come here for our benefit. They came here to hide.”
“What are we going to do?” Sky said. “If what you heard is true, we have to go to the police. And that means we can’t stay here anymore. It’s not safe.”
Virgil put his head in his hands. “I know.”
“We need to leave tonight. Right now, before the sun comes up. I’ll pack what we’ll need. By the time they realize we’re no longer here, we’ll be well on our way. They won’t know where to begin to look for us.”
“There’s one complication,” Virgil said. “Fallon suspects I know their secret. He tracked me earlier. He almost found me, but I got away. He questioned me about my leg before dinner. Asked me if I’d heard or seen anything unusual on my rounds.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him no. But I know he didn’t believe me.”
“I knew Fallon was dangerous,” Sky said. “We have to get out of here, the sooner the better. We have Blessing to think about.”
“And Amanda.”
Sky paused. “You’re right. We can’t leave her behind. If her life is in danger, she’s safer with us.”
“Mommy?” The tiny voice at the door made Sky jump, and she realized how deeply afraid she had suddenly become. Blessing stood in the doorway to their room.
“Yes, baby?”
“Goodnight.”
“I thought you were asleep, sweetie,” Virgil said. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I was,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “I needed to go to the bathroom, but it was dark, and I was scared.”
“It’s okay, honey,” Sky said. “I’ll take you down the hall to the bathroom.”
“That’s all right, Mommy. I already went.”
Sky looked at Virgil and smiled. “Well, I guess you are a grown-up girl now. Able to go to the bathroom in the night all on your own.”
“I didn’t go on my own,” Blessing answered. “Mr. Fallon took me.”
“What did you say?” Virgil said.
“He was standing outside the door when I got up.” Blessing ran to the window. “See?” she said, “There he goes now. I guess it’s his bedtime too.”
Virgil watched as Fallon disappeared into the dense mountain fog. He leapt to his feet.
“Virgil, no!” Sky cried. “Don’t!”
Too late, his heart pounding like a timpani, Virgil ran out of the room, struggled down the stairs as fast as he could manage, shoulder-slid along the wall, and shuffled out of the building into the thick fog. Fallon was gone. Virgil gasped for air. He knew he was in no shape to give chase. He would need to conserve his strength for their escape from Eden.
He shuffled up the stairs, walked back to his room, and froze at the sight of the broken door.
An unwelcome adornment graced its tarnished brass handle. The bloodied plastic strip he had earlier used as a tourniquet swung back and forth on the doorknob like a hangman’s noose awaiting the neck of a condemned prisoner.
“He must have followed us back,” Virgil said as he entered the room. His voice shook with anger. “He was standing in the hallway, listening to us. He heard every word we said.”
Sky clutched Blessing. “I’m scared, Virgil. What are we going to do?”
“We need to get out of here. But not tonight. It’s too dangerous right now. I know Fallon. He’s out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows, just waiting for me to make a mistake. Pack whatever you can tonight that will allow you and Blessing to travel light. We’ll leave tomorrow night.”
“What about Amanda? We can’t leave her here.”
“We won’t. I’ll come back for Amanda. She trusts me. She knows I wouldn’t lie to her. First, I need to get you two someplace where you’ll be safe.”
“But where will we go? We have no car, no money, and we barely have any food.”
“There’s an old hunting cabin on the mountain. Reisa and I came across it a few weeks ago. I’m sure it’s abandoned. It doesn’t look like anyone’s used it for years. We can stay there. At least for a couple of days.”
“And then?”
“Then we go to the police.”
48
MARK OYAMA SAT in his chair at the head of the boardroom table as the members of his team entered the room and took their seats.
The attention of the room fixed on Claire. Under the table Martin held her hand, squeezed it reassuringly.
Mark motioned to Justin to turn out the lights. The room fell dark as the flat screen monitor presented the image of a newspaper article taken from the Paulo Brava Examiner. The headline read, WITHOUT A TRACE.
“Each of you will find dossiers in front of you,” Mark began. He rose from his chair and paced the room as he spoke. “Please open them now.”
He continued. “Twelve years ago, Dr. Prescott’s younger sister, Amanda, disappeared. The Prescott’s contacted the authorities and a full investigation was launched. No ransom demand was ever received, and no contact was ever made with the family. In the end, both state and federal came up dry. Now we think we know why. Next picture please.”
The image of the newspaper article morphed into the file photo from Martin’s book. The blurry visage of Joseph Krebeck and Amanda Prescott captured by the telephoto lens filled the screen.
“We believe from recent information provided to Dr. Prescott that her sister was taken against her will by the man you see here. His name is Joseph Krebeck. The woman is our extraction target. Until this morning we knew very little about Krebeck. Seems he’s dodged our radar very well over the years. I’ll ask Justin to take us through his findings.”
Justin stood, took the room. “Thanks, Mark.” He opened his file folder, removed a photocopy of an official document, and held it up. The cover page read:
CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY
EYES ONLY
OPERATION DELIVERANCE
“What you’re looking at is a copy of a de-classified report outlining the involvement of the CIA in Uganda twelve years ago,” he said. “The United States government agreed to assist in a military coup to oust a radical fundamentalist by the name of Mustafa Mensah. Mensah and his cronies had taken it upon themselves to redistribute Red Cross supplies and foo
d to the people living in his territory. Those who could afford to pay with land, women, or children received the blessings of his generosity. Those who couldn’t died by the hundreds. Operation Deliverance was put in place to topple Mensah’s regime and restore aid to the people in need of it. That’s where Krebeck comes in.”
Justin advanced the presentation to the next image, a copy of a CIA identification card.
“Joseph Ulysses Krebeck,” Justin said, reading aloud the name on the photo identification. “A bona fide spook, ghost, or any other intelligence moniker you want to give him.”
Dan Raines sat forward in his chair. “Let me get this straight. Our bad guy’s a fed?”
“More than that,” Justin replied. “Joseph Krebeck was one of Uncle Sam’s finest covert operatives.”
“Was?” Cynthia asked.
“Yes. Krebeck was sentenced to life in prison for murder because of his actions during Operation Deliverance.”
“How is that possible?” Martin asked. “CIA-sanctioned ops carry impunity from prosecution.”
“Ordinarily that would be true,” Justin replied. “But Krebeck went rogue. That’s when the government stepped in.”
“What exactly did he do?” Karen Lassiter asked.
“Krebeck believes himself to be a religious deity. That’s the story according to his psyche eval, anyway. However, the key difference between him and most religious leaders is they don’t lock hundreds of their followers in a tinderbox of a church, poison them, set fire to the place, and then stay around to watch it burn to the ground.”
“Christ,” Karen replied.
“There’s something I don’t get,” Raines said. “How is it possible for an American CIA operative to create a religious following in a foreign country?”
“With a little help from his friends,” Justin replied. “Turns out Krebeck would meet with members of Mensah’s inner circle and provide them with intel updates on Operation Deliverance in exchange for protection and a quiet place to play God.”
“So, he’s a fed and a traitor,” Raines said. “Why didn’t someone lock up this sonofabitch and throw away the key?”
“We did just that,” Justin replied, “only five years ago Krebeck and four other inmates went down in a plane crash just south of the Oregon-California border east of Mt. Hebron while being transferred to a maximum-security facility. Three were confirmed dead at the scene, but Krebeck and another inmate, Reginald Fallon, escaped the crash. The feds have been looking for them ever since, without success. I guess they forgot they were the ones who taught these guys how to disappear.”
“So, Fallon is CIA too?” Raines asked.
“Yes. The two of them were assigned to Operation Deliverance.”
“Then shouldn’t we be calling the feds? They’re their boys. Under the circumstances, I’m sure the Agency wants them back real bad.”
“Without a doubt,” Mark interjected. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Krebeck and Fallon. The CIA can have them. But if we bring them in too soon, this will become a military exercise, and I don’t want to put Amanda Prescott at unnecessary risk. Our principal must be the priority. We go in, get her, and get the hell out. Then we call in the cavalry.”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“What do we know about the people she’s involved with?” Raines asked.
“They call themselves The Brethren,” Justin answered. “Honestly, we have no intel on their ideology. We don’t know if they’re paramilitary, anti-government, or how heavily armed they might be.” Justin turned to Mark. “For that reason, when we locate them, I suggest your teams go in hot. Sidearms and body armor. No exceptions.”
Karen Lassiter raised her hand. “What about a location on the subjects?”
Mark turned to Cynthia. “Care to bring us up to speed?”
“Certainly,” Cynthia replied.
A picture showing several individuals handing out leaflets to students on a university campus flashed on the monitor.
“In your dossiers you’ll find a copy of this photograph,” Cynthia continued. “It was taken approximately two weeks ago at Sonoma State University. Biometric comparison confirms the girl on the right is Amanda Prescott. I’ve had personal contact with the subject, though I didn’t know we’d be looking for her two weeks later. So, the good news is we can confirm she’s alive and possibly still in the area. The bad news is we’ve never had her under active surveillance, so we don’t know specifically where she is. The fact I took this photo was a complete fluke. Something about the group just didn’t sit right with me, so I snapped their picture.”
“Lucky for us you did,” Raines said. “But if you ask me, I’d say we’ve got a major problem. We may know who the subject is and what she looks like, but she’s on the move and we have no active intelligence to work with. I wouldn’t exactly call that a winning combination.”
“Dan’s right,” Karen agreed. She turned to Mark. “Amanda Prescott could be long gone by now. If the group is transient, we’re beat already.”
“I know,” Mark replied. “That’s why I’m pairing everyone into base and field reconnaissance teams. You and I will be field team one. Cynthia and Dan, team two. Starting today, we’re going to establish surveillance on the university campus and the general vicinity. Start asking questions and poke around a bit. Show the photos in your file around campus. Perhaps one of the students will remember seeing Amanda or speaking with her. Talk to campus security. My guess is if the Brethren are using the university as a recruiting area, they may not be transient after all. I know the timeline is tricky, only two weeks out, but we still might catch a break. If you locate her, no one is to even breathe in her direction without my authorization.” Mark turned on the lights and addressed the team. “The rest of you will work with Justin. Hit the computers, beat the drums, rattle your contacts, send up goddamn smoke signals if you have to. Just dig up as much information on this organization as you can. The more we know now, the better prepared we’ll be when we go in. As Dan pointed out, our timeline is fading. We’ve got to turn up something right away. Field teams, pack whatever gear you’ll need. We leave for the university in two hours. Claire, you’ll travel with Martin. If we should be lucky enough to run into Amanda, and she recognizes you, this could be over today. I only say that as a possibility, so don’t get your hopes up. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover and not much to go on.”
“I understand,” Claire replied.
“Martin,” Mark said.
“Yes?”
“I’m putting you in charge of Claire’s personal safety. She stays by your side like glue. Photographs and leads aside, her input is critical to the success of this operation. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Count on it,” Martin replied.
Mark turned to the group. “By now everyone should know the severity of the situation. Anything less than a one-hundred percent commitment to this operation is unacceptable. Got that?”
Dedicated faces stared back, silent and attentive.
“Good,” Mark said. He concluded the meeting. “Let’s go find Amanda Prescott.”
49
BY EARLY AFTERNOON operations were in high gear. Every station in the computer lab was manned, every phone line in use. The operatives spoke with their contacts in local, state, and federal police agencies and the media, cross-referenced their findings, and plotted prospective geographic locations on a plexiglass grid map of the state positioned outside Justin’s office. While Justin coordinated their efforts, the field teams prepared to leave for the university.
Martin tapped on the glass door to Justin’s office. “Got a minute?”
“Sure, Martin. What’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier about Krebeck and the information you obtained from the CIA.”
“Not from the CIA,” Justin clarified. “From a website that follows de-classified intelligence operations of the government, everything from the Department of Naval Intellige
nce to Foreign Affairs. Eventually those reports become a matter of public record.” Justin removed the CIA report on Operation Deliverance from his dossier. “Or at least as much as they’ll allow us to read.”
Heavy black lines had been struck through much of the report. Of the eighteen pages, the amount of readable text accounted for twelve pages of the document.
“It’s their way of appeasing our curiosity,” Justin continued, referring to the redacted portions of the report. “We get to take a peek at the official records, and they get to share as little of it as possible.”
Martin examined the report. “Just how reliable is this document?”
“Very. We’re not talking downed spacecraft or little green men here. This is different. At the time, CNN was covering the difficulties with the relief effort in Uganda daily. Hell, they practically created a mini-series from it, so the events can’t be denied. The juice in this report however is the information on Krebeck himself, not just Operation Deliverance. They left a lot of detail in, including mentioning Krebeck by name. I guess they figured with the world watching they wouldn’t be able to hide the truth even if they tried. In my opinion, someone screwed up. Good for us, bad for them.”
“Doesn’t that strike you as strange?” Martin asked. “I mean, we’re talking about the CIA here. You’re sure this report wasn’t created to misinform?”
Justin nodded. “The thought crossed my mind. But I’ve reviewed a lot of these types of reports over the years. Honestly, I think we just got lucky.”
Martin’s face tightened. “You’re aware of the history behind my wife and daughter’s disappearance?”
“Yes, Martin. I am.”
“The Ugandan authorities never confirmed or denied who was responsible for Anne’s death. They just knew it was cult related. When you mentioned the fire and the church burning to the ground, I couldn’t help but think…”
“That Krebeck was responsible?” Justin finished. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, Martin. There’s no mention in the report about the name of the group Krebeck was involved with. It could just be a coincidence. Unfortunately, a lot of this type of activity was going on in Uganda at the time.”
The Vanishing Page 15
