“I’ve already set the CIA’s best after them,” Langton said. “It’ll have to be enough. The chance of this going public is too great to involve the police or other agencies, and we all know what happens when news leaks.”
None of the men in the room needed reminding. Almost two years earlier, the presidential candidate they’d chosen to be their mouthpiece, Ryan Appleton, had aced the primaries and caucuses and had commanded a seventeen-point lead in the polls heading for the November elections. That’s when disaster had struck. In late October, only twelve days before the nation went to cast their vote, a series of emails had been uploaded to the WikiLeaks website and soon brought the campaign to a crushing halt.
It emerged that the former Texas governor had a few skeletons that even the ESO hadn’t known about, one of them being the fact that he’d slept with a prostitute many years earlier. That in itself would not have been a terribly serious matter, but it turned out that she’d recorded the sordid encounter and tried to blackmail Appleton. WikiLeaks’s incriminating emails centered around Appleton’s attempts to silence the woman. Her death at the time had barely rated a couple of column inches in the local newspaper, but with less than two weeks before the election, the FBI had launched a full investigation. George Carson, head of media relations, had done his best to keep the news off the air and out of the papers but the damage had already been done.
The result had been immediate and catastrophic.
The ESO had thrown their weight behind Appleton, using the media to spin the allegations as lies and falsehoods concocted by the opposition, but it had proved a futile exercise. Their opponent had won by a landslide, and once in the White House had begun to work with Congress on the liberal agenda that had made him such a weak adversary.
Many of the corporations that Langton and his cronies had interests in were immediately wounded by the new legislation that followed. The pharmaceutical companies were ordered to rein in their prices or face huge fines, and marijuana was due to be legalized in the coming months, adding another nail to their coffin. It was widely known within the industry that weed was a safer and more powerful painkiller than anything they manufactured, but they’d paid enough people to keep that a secret. Why use a cheap, natural product when you can charge five hundred bucks for a synthetic alternative?
The military budget also suffered. It was cut by almost 30 percent after the new president announced the complete withdrawal of all troops in the Middle East within the next five years. Private prisons were being renationalized, and the vast majority incarcerated for nonviolent crimes were having their sentences cut drastically, ending decades of profiteering.
In all, the new administration had already cost Langton more than a trillion dollars, and he wasn’t about to face another six years of abuse.
“I said at the time that we should have gone with someone else, but you insisted on Hank Monroe,” Edward said, referring to the candidate Langton and the ESO had chosen to back in the coming presidential election.
The remark drew a look of utter disdain from his father. “Monroe’s had a distinguished career in the CIA and as the governor of Nebraska. From the public’s perspective, he’s the perfect choice.”
“I agree on your assessment of Monroe, but I think we should at least have had a contingency, in case the worst happened.”
“The worst is happening and I don’t see you offering up any solutions.” Langton glared at his son. “Saying ‘I told you so’ doesn’t help our cause. We’ve spent years pitting black against white, rich against poor, left against right, all so that we could carry on with business as usual while they fight among themselves. Now this liberal jerkoff is reuniting the country!” Langton slapped a bony hand on the table. “He’s undone twenty years of hard work and cost us a fortune.”
“It isn’t as though we have an unlimited supply of people we can call on,” one of the others said. Joel Harmer was the member in charge of security, but he’d seen fit to let the younger Langton take the lead so far. A billionaire many times over and a man of enormous power in his own right, he owed his fortune and position to Langton, much like the others gathered around the table. “There are only around a hundred operatives trained to carry out this type of task. When you subtract the ones Driscoll and Colback eliminated and those already on overseas missions, we only have around twenty to call upon. Eleven of those are already on their trail, which leaves us only nine more.”
“Then throw them in,” Langton said, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another. He looked at the faces around the table and suddenly sensed that he hadn’t been told the whole story. “Whatever it is, spit it out.”
Harmer, the only nonsmoker in the room, cleared his throat. “Someone managed to get into our CIA black-book bank accounts this morning. They took a shade over fifty million before protocols kicked them out. We suspect it was Farooq Naser but we have no proof yet.”
The amount was nothing, pocket change to a man like Langton, but if Naser was behind it, then Driscoll now had a sizable war chest.
“Are you telling me that after he skipped with Driscoll, Naser was able to access his old CIA account? Why wasn’t that closed off, as a priority?”
“His access was shut down the moment he left the CIA a couple of years ago. We think he created back doors during his time there.”
“You think?”
“We’ve got the best people working on every line of code he wrote while he was employed with them,” the younger Langton said. “If we find his way in, we can shut it down.”
“Close the stable door after the horse has bolted, you mean.”
Edward looked at the other faces for support. “It wasn’t as if we could foresee this happening. We only learned of Naser’s involvement a few hours ago.”
Langton stared at the ashtray next to him, idly making patterns in the gray embers with the end of his lit cigarette. “Once we find these back doors, can we trace anyone using them?”
“We should be able to,” Harmer said. “But there’s no telling what damage he might do if we let him into our systems again.”
“If he was going to wipe the hard drives, he would have done it by now. No, let him have access. It might be our best chance of finding them.”
Harmer took out his phone to update the CIA on the new orders while Langton addressed the rest of the room. “It’s imperative that Monroe’s campaign remains on track. I appreciate that we still have more than two years until the election, but we must ensure nothing tarnishes Monroe’s image. George, remind the editors that they can’t publish a story about him without running it by me first. Alexander, I want someone monitoring state and local police communications in the region. If any of them stumble onto Colback’s trail, shut their investigations down.”
Langton stubbed out his cigarette and rose. “I’m going to have breakfast. Before we meet again tomorrow, I want this thing put to bed.”
CHAPTER 23
Carl Huff woke a couple of minutes before the alarm was due to go off at eight in the morning. It was a habit, his body somehow knowing when to exit deep sleep, and he felt perfectly refreshed despite only four hours in bed.
On the desk, his laptop had gone into hibernation mode, so he woke it and checked on Driscoll’s progress. As he’d expected, they’d continued traveling through the night. Their course had been west by southwest, the latest data showing them entering Louisville thirty minutes earlier. Huff quickly considered a course to head them off. According to her file, Driscoll had no known associates in the immediate area, so she would probably continue on a westerly heading. Then again, aware that she was being hunted, she would most likely try to throw people off her scent. That’s what Huff would have done in her shoes.
But where would she head?
Mexico would have been Huff’s first choice. US intel and law enforcement agencies had little reach over the border and would not easily gain the help of the Mexican authorities in capturing Driscoll and her companions. Going south
of the border would give her time to evaluate the situation and formulate a response, or simply disappear.
If that was indeed her destination, he had plenty of time to intercept her. Buying a ticket for a scheduled flight would be too risky for her, as would chartering a plane. She knew as well as he that passenger manifests would be watched closely, which meant she would have to drive to the frontier.
It was roughly eleven hundred miles to San Antonio, Texas, which she and her compatriots could probably drive in sixteen hours under the right conditions. That gave him plenty of time.
Huff opened a new browser window and booked an American Airlines ticket to San Antonio via Charlotte, North Carolina. It would get him to Texas at five in the evening, and he could reevaluate his plan once on the ground.
He took another quick shower, then dressed. His bag contained enough clothes to last him three days.
He was confident he wouldn’t need that long.
Colback was awake and alert the moment Eva touched his shoulder. “What is it?”
“We’re approaching Louisville. Hitting the outskirts in ten minutes.”
Colback looked in the back and saw Farooq fast asleep, his laptop still open and resting on his chest.
It looked like another glorious day, weather-wise at least. The trees flashing past his window were in full bloom, and he might have taken a moment to enjoy the lush landscape under different circumstances.
The clock on the dash told him it was half past seven.
“How about we find some chow?” he said. “I’m starving. Get me some breakfast and I can take over driving.”
Eva sighed theatrically. “I did warn you to fill up when you had the chance but you thought you knew better.”
“You always this grumpy first thing in the morning?”
She ignored him and handed over her burner cell. “Look for a diner, ideally near a gas station.”
Colback typed in a search and was rewarded with the name and address of a franchise restaurant in the center of town. “Farooq, wake up. It’s time to eat.”
Inside the diner, they ordered coffee and pancakes. They’d been unable to find a quiet booth where they could discuss their situation, so they ate in silence. Colback, lesson learned, ordered a burger and fries after finishing his first course, and all three welcomed their coffee refills.
After a visit to the toilets, Eva ordered Colback and Farooq into the gas station next door, where they purchased toiletries, water, and snacks to see them through the next few days.
Colback took the wheel and followed Eva’s directions as she read them off the phone. Farooq was back on his laptop, still trying to dig up what he could on Adrian Holmes, the journalist-turned-blogger Eva had killed.
Her directions led them to a location that looked like little more than a parking lot with a small prefabricated cabin that served as the office.
“What’s this place?” As he pulled in, Colback saw a sign outside that read QUALITY DRIVEAWAY.
“Watch and learn,” said Eva as she exited the car.
Colback accompanied her inside the small building, where Eva spoke to a middle-aged man behind a cheap plastic counter.
“Hi. I’d like someone to drive my car to San Diego,” she said, giving the guy a dazzling smile.
“Sure thing,” the clerk replied. “I’ll need to take a few details.”
Eva handed over the fake ID she’d used to register the car, then gave him an address.
“San Diego, huh?” said the clerk. “When do you need it to arrive?”
“As soon as possible. Do you think someone could take it today?”
The man began biting his upper lip as he checked his computer. “I’ve got one couple waiting for a ride to Los Angeles, but nothing for San Diego, I’m afraid.”
Eva nodded and maintained the smile. “Maybe you could ask them if they’ll take mine to San Diego and I’ll give them an extra three hundred bucks to get to LA.”
The clerk shrugged. “I can try.” He picked up the phone and dialed the number on the screen, then told the woman who answered that he had an offer for her. A minute later, he hung up with a smile. “They’ll be here to pick it up at lunchtime.”
Eva handed over the keys and the fee, plus the bonus for the drivers and another for the clerk.
“San Diego, huh?” said Colback when they reached their car. “Where are you sending it?” he whispered. “CIA safe house?”
Eva simply winked, took her backpack from him, and collected Farooq from the vehicle. Together, they walked down the street toward a coffee shop.
“You guys wait here,” she told them. “I’m going to find an Internet café and transfer some funds to a local account, then get some new wheels. If I’m not back in an hour, find somewhere to lie low. I’ll message you,” she told Farooq.
“And if you don’t get in touch . . . ?”
“It means I’m dead, and they’ll be coming for you next.”
Eva walked away before Colback could prolong the conversation.
“She’s a regular fun factory,” he said, watching her stroll down the street.
“You get used to her,” Farooq assured him. “You certainly couldn’t wish for a better friend in your current situation.”
Farooq held the door open and both men walked inside. They ordered coffees, then found a quiet table, the pre-work crowd long gone.
“So, what’s wrong with your foot?” Farooq asked as he took out his laptop and plugged it into a wall outlet.
“War wound.”
Colback told Farooq about his ill-fated visit to Jeff Driscoll and his employer in New York City. “I had no way of knowing he was dead before I even got there.”
Farooq nodded as he hooked up to the café’s Wi-Fi.
“I’ve only known Eva since New York,” said Colback, taking a sip of his coffee. “She kinda comes across as a loner, but she didn’t hesitate to contact you. What makes her trust you so much?”
Farooq shrugged. “I owe her, and she knew she could count on my help.”
“I got that, but what exactly did she do for you?”
Farooq sighed as he looked up from his screen. “My sister Sana lives in a small town called Bottle Creek, Arkansas. That’s where I’m originally from. I went to visit her for her twenty-first birthday, but she wasn’t her normal happy self. It took a while to get it out of her, but she eventually told me that her boss had sexually assaulted her.
“Her boss—his name’s Mike Herron—is a big man, late forties, and Sana had zero interest in him, which she made perfectly clear. One day, he told her to stay behind after work to help prepare some paperwork for an upcoming business trip, but once everyone else was gone, he attacked her. He grabbed her breasts and tried to kiss her, and when she tried to fight him off, he hit her in the face. She fell to the floor, and before she knew it, he was on top of her. Now, Sana’s only five feet tall, and Herron goes at least 250. There was nothing she could do.”
Colback didn’t need all the sordid details to imagine what had happened next. “Did she report it to the police?”
“Not at first,” Farooq told him. “I saw her a week after it happened, and we went to see the sheriff together. She filed a complaint, but when she went back two days later to follow it up, she was told that no further action would be taken.”
“Why not?”
“Because the sheriff was Herron’s brother-in-law. Of course, that wasn’t the official reason, but they said there wasn’t sufficient evidence to pursue the case. Don’t forget, this is small-town America we’re talking about. Bottle Creek has a population of just over two thousand, ninety-eight percent of whom are white, and the sheriff had held the post for twenty years.”
“So how did Eva get involved?”
“I’d known her for some time. Toward the end of her training, I was her assigned IT instructor. My job was to get her up to speed on the latest surveillance tech, and she soaked up the information like a sponge. After the course finished, she’
d come by every month to keep current. I guess during one of those visits, I mentioned Sana’s problem. Eva could see I was troubled and made me tell her everything.
“By that time, Sana had found a new job as a waitress, but when Herron found out, he went in every day and kept harassing her. He knew he could get away with it, and that made him bolder. I told Sana she should leave the area for good, but she refused to be bullied out of her hometown.”
Farooq sipped his coffee, staring at the dark brew for a few moments.
“So, what did Eva do?”
“She told me she got an office job at Herron Construction. She created an impressive résumé, but Herron barely glanced at it. He only had eyes for her. She started the next day, and he didn’t waste any time. The touching started immediately, but instead of being pissed, Eva laughed it off and even started flirting with him. On her third day, Herron asked her to stay late, and she happily agreed. Once everyone else went home, Herron pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses and invited her to join him on the sofa in his office. She refused, saying she’d changed her mind after noticing the wedding ring and the picture of his wife on the desk. Well, he reacted just as she’d expected he would. He definitely didn’t expect much resistance from someone so small. At first, she played the weak victim, allowing him to rip her blouse open and fondle her, all the while begging him to stop. He just carried on, pushing her onto the couch and forcing his hand up her skirt. At that point, while he was trying to kiss her neck, she bit off half his ear.”
“Whoa! He must’ve freaked.”
“You have no idea. Eva said it was just the reaction she’d been hoping for. She let him slap her across the face, then she cowered on the sofa as he hit her some more. He then reached up her skirt again and pulled her panties off. She let him do it until he started unzipping his fly. Then she pretended to try to escape but let him catch her by his desk. He bent her over the desk and used his weight to pin her down. The second he had his dick out and tried to force himself inside her, she stomped a foot and swung a hard elbow back into his temple. When he staggered back, she grabbed a letter opener from his desk and sliced his cock open lengthwise.”
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