Tyranny of Secrets

by John Statton

  Jaden glanced down to his pinned wrist and gave an emphatic nod.

  That night, Seth slipped in as Jaden opened the side entrance and took him directly to the bank’s caged-off section. The guard opened its gate and returned to finish his rounds, clocking in and out at each station of his security cross.

  NetSecure had pulled instructions for finding the file from the bank’s systems, and Seth knew exactly where to look. Holding a penlight in his mouth to provide illumination, he had no trouble finding the right storage cabinet and the sought-after file.

  Jaden was a lucky man because Seth did not believe him to be a loose end worth tying up. As Pezchico held the Archivo’s door open for Seth’s departure, Seth pressed his lips against Jaden’s ear and whispered, “I’d hate to have to come back and kill you and your family.”

  As he handed Jaden the second ten-thousand-balboa bundle, he added, “You are going to forget all about this.” Jaden felt weak in his knees and believed every word and instruction. He was so scared he could not say “yes,” all he could do was move his head up and down repeatedly. His sense of relief almost overwhelming as he watched Seth disappear into the night.

  ***

  Back in the Hyatt’s room 2420, Seth handed over the file to Blair. Blair opened it and found the account registration page. He did a quick comparison of the fax number at the top and the digital fragment, finding a perfect match, revealing the entire number. His hunch had played out and he felt all-powerful. He could have just thanked Seth and exited the country, but this assignment stoked his fantasy of being in control. “So how much did you have to interact with Pezchico?”

  Seth got an instantly creepy feeling about the question. “We had breakfast together, closer than you and I are now. Why?”

  “Because I think it’s an unacceptable mission risk, that’s why. I don’t like leaving behind a witness. I want you to take care of it.”

  “Jaden is a man who does not need to die; he’s going to forget this happened. I should know.”

  “Not your decision to make. It’s my call. I say you kill him, and you have to comply.”

  Blair hardly completed this sentence before he was slammed against the wall, his head denting the sheetrock. But that was not the most important thing. With one hand on Blair’s throat, Seth produced a 9mm pistol, which he pushed roughly up into Blair’s chin, barrel first.

  “You don’t ever order a man to do something you are not prepared to do yourself, understand?”

  Blair made a sound of agreement while on his toes with his neck stretched over the steel barrel. His head nodded an almost imperceptible amount to avoid a trigger pull. He was terrified, knowing he was just a few pounds of finger pressure from death. The barrel bore into his flesh.

  Seth stepped back, dropping his gun arm and his choke hold. Blair slid to the floor and looked up. Seth worked the gun, ejected the clip, wiped both for any prints, and tossed the pieces on the bed. He turned and walked out, leaving Blair to handle his own dirty work.

  ***

  Two days later, Blair sat in front of Mansfield’s desk presenting his findings.

  “We’ve confirmed it's a fax machine number for Mariana’s parent’s attorney, who retired seven years ago. But we’ve got few other records of her links to him.”

  “How did this trail get pointed back to her parents?”

  “The attorney probated the will. We accessed the court records around their estate, and there it was; a private railcar. It sold to a company who in turn became obscure by the trail of corporate cut-outs. With all of the work to keep this hidden, I think it's safe to say McAllister has been keeping this as a rainy-day insurance policy.”

  “That's good enough for me. The railcar has to be how they got out, and where they have been hiding. Where is it now?”

  “We pulled Amtrak's records; yesterday it got dropped off on a siding about ten miles from Lake Tahoe, deep in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Scheduled for reconnection to another train in three days.”

  Mansfield regarded Blair with a thin smile. Without a doubt, the best news he had in months. Rainy had been riding him hard for results. His problem remained contained. “OK, fine work. I want you to be the lead on cleaning this up. I’m going to assign you a team of crack security agents under an ex-Navy chief, all ex-special forces. Should be just the tool to bring them back into the fold. Go get it done.”

  ***

  Mariana and Sander were enjoying a rare day outside with the coach parked on the siding. They had pulled folding chairs from the car and set them up under a grove of trees, to avoid satellite cameras. The sun warmed the air, and they were soaking up the view.

  They were in a sizeable u-shaped valley, featuring several lakes and towering granite escarpments encircling one end. The railroad reached the valley across a long trestle spanning the upper American River. It exited on the other side, rounding the cliffs and heading down to Lake Tahoe. The valley provided enough space for the main line and a siding. Across the other edge, steep slopes were lined with granite boulders and scree interspersed with thick stands of gnarled pines. Their view looked out over where a glacier had started; where it had patiently carved the rock.

  Early that morning, Blair and a kill team of five security specialists flew into South Lake Tahoe on a chartered executive jet fitted out for VIP transport. Ostensibly, they were gamblers heading for golf and casino fun, but anyone closely observing this group of high rollers would note they were all extremely fit for men who played a lot of cards. With a lot of big luggage in addition to their golf club bags.

  “Come on, chief, get the guys loaded up. We’re riding in those SUVs over there.” Blair pointed towards a couple of black four-wheel drive vehicles next to the terminal. As the caravan headed out of the airport, instead of turning right to head to the South Shore’s swanky casinos, they turned left and took the two-lane highway circling the base of the high mountains on the west side of the lake.

  After a few miles, the team turned off the highway and headed up on a single-lane road. Ascending, the road grew progressively worse, until they needed the four-wheel drive. The SUVs eventually pulled up at the base of Stewart's Pass. Near the top of the Pass was their destination: Mariana and Sander’s valley.

  Climbing out into the high mountain sunshine, Blair turned to the ranking member of the team and said, “Chief, we will wait until nightfall to move on the targets, you can rest your men but have them ready. Let’s get the drone up and do some scouting.”

  Exiting the SUVs, the men broke out their gear and began assembly. The first order of business was lofting a chameleon-paint electric drone to get eyes on the objective. This technology made the drone almost impossible to see or hear from more than a few feet away. It spiraled up, riding a thermal like a hawk. The transmitted image of the valley from a thousand feet above them was sharply displayed.

  Blair spotted the railcar. He saw no one moving. “OK,” he said, “let’s put it in a quartering search pattern and see if anyone’s around.”

  After fifteen minutes of flying over the valley and back down the trail they would be using, Blair felt pleased there were no hikers in the vicinity. They would have an unchallenged field of action. They recovered and serviced the drone.

  At dusk, he said, “Let’s go, chief, time to saddle up.”

  The men donned lightweight body armor, team radios, and goggles allowing them to switch between night vision or watching the video feed from the drone. Each had a weapon with a tranquilizer loadout and carried a sidearm of their choice. All had 9mm submachine guns.

  Blair stepped out in front of the men and said, “Listen up, you had the mission brief, we’ve got two targets, a man and a woman. Capture, but if it becomes impossible, then kill the man. Do everything you can to capture the woman alive. I want no mistakes on this, somebody a lot higher on the food chain than you wants to talk to her. So, keep her alive. We’re not expecting them to be armed, but proceed with caution. Don’t fuck this up.”

&
nbsp; The chief turned and led the team up the trail. Blair stayed back to handle the relaunched drone. It circled noiselessly high overhead with night vision, laser targeting, and two air-to-ground micro-missiles.

  ***

  Sander liked taking a walk around the railcar before bed. He enjoyed the vivid Milky Way spread from one horizon to the other. The cold, crisp, high mountain air always felt refreshing after the warm, comfortable coach. He’d completed his loop and stood by the club room’s door when he saw two men silhouetted against the sky, moving behind the rocky outcrop across from the coach.

  In an instant, they melted into shadows, and he almost could not believe they were there. He hesitated in the doorway. Inside, Mariana sat at the bar enjoying a cocktail. He asked in a low pitched insistent voice, “Hey, did you see those guys?”

  She became instantly alert. Suddenly a shot dented the doorway next to where Sander stood. It sent a hard metallic slap through the car. What the hell? he thought. Startled, he misjudged his footing and dropped to the rails. The next shot clanged off the wheel as he rolled down the stone track ballast to the ground. He did not need a third lesson to stay down.

  Sander had no other option than to see if he could make it to the train trestle and try and climb down from there. To pop up and run would make him a clear target. To stay near the car seemed unhealthy. He started a low crawl in the shallow ditch beside the tracks, heading to the bridge abutment.

  Yards turned to feet as he closed on his goal. The trestle's start signaled the edge of a sheer cliff face. Sander saw no place to climb down, and, fifty feet below, the swiftly-flowing river churned over a boulder garden heading sharply downhill. A hundred feet of open track reached to the other side.

  Another close shot drew his attention to his hunters and showed the night might not be as dark for them as it was for him. I can’t catch a break, he thought, no choice about should I stay or should I go. If I don’t go, there will be no Sander. He got ready, jumped up, scrambled to the top of the rails, and started to sprint. Two shots to either side showed they had him bracketed. His abrupt stop brought him up in the middle of the bridge, well short of his goal.

  He turned slowly and saw a black-clad warrior gesturing him back to the side. His gun aimed at Sander’s chest where a red dot had sprouted. Sander walked forward in compliance, noticed a missing railroad tie and, before any shot could ring out, deliberately stepped into space and plummeted into the dark water raging below.

  In the agent’s night vision display, Sander's warm image was instantly gone in the cold water. He called for the drone operator to try and get eyes on, but no joy. The quarry could be either dead or alive, but lost to the team's immediate pursuit. They refocused on Mariana and moved to acquire their target.

  When she first heard the shot against the carriage and saw Sander drop, Mariana knew the shit had hit the fan. She quickly closed and locked the door. Grabbing the go-bag and keeping below window level, Mariana sprinted down the hall towards the kitchen. If I’m doing the hunting, I’d send more than two, she thought. I wonder if they’ve also got a drone on over-watch?

  There was nothing she could do for Sander, but she could do a lot for herself. She crept to her bedroom, stuffed a book in the go-bag, grabbed the Faraday coat, and headed into the kitchen. A cupboard door next to the stove concealed a semi-hidden pass through to an external-facing wood-storage box, left over from the car's earliest days. She climbed through and dropped to the ground beneath the car.

  Hunching in the moonless dark, she pulled the Faraday coat to cover her completely and moved into the adjacent forest. She relied on the moonless night and the trees to keep her visually blocked, and the coat to hide her heat signature from skyborne sensors. She could almost feel the cameras of the drone on her, even though she could not see it circling above. Just standard capture protocol to get a pair of high-eyes up, she thought.

  While climbing through a heavily forested gully, she heard them breach the car and search. From the sounds of breaking glass, they were under orders to be thorough. She did not know how much time she had left before they turned to hunting her outside, and pressed on as fast as she could to give them as broad a search area as possible.

  She looked for a place to stash her necklace’s data fob. She kept climbing, and the gully broadened out onto a wide, tree-ringed, sloping granite plane, heading down to a circular lake. Starlight illuminated the sharply rising granite cliffs flanking its back and sides. There were plenty of boulders and smaller rocks liberally strewn about, but otherwise little cover.

  She slipped off her necklace and wrapped it in zippered plastic baggies. She then slipped off the coat and tightly wrapped it around the plastic for long-term protection. She stashed this compacted bundle within a small boulder crypt, completely hidden and weighted with rocks against storms.

  She knew as soon as she took off the coat she became vulnerable to the drone, but with it and a security team scouring this area, capture was likely only a matter of time anyway. Escape was not her primary goal.

  She took a GPS reading on the cache and moved into the trees. She huddled under an overhanging boulder while she composed her email. She pulled out the satellite phone they had been using for Internet access when in remote areas. She had scant time to send her message, and then carefully hid the go-bag under a log at the back of the overhang. If she evaded them, she’d need it to get out of the mountains and back into civilization.

  God, I hope Sander got away, she thought, and this message reaches him. It’s our last best chance, especially if I’m killed. She remembered five shots but no cries or screams. That’s got to be a good thing, she thought.

  While deciding her next move, she heard a low chuffing noise, followed by an explosion two hundred yards to her right. Then the strange and frightening sound of a big animal in distress, and a silencing shot.

  Crouching breathlessly, she heard a close by, low-pitched, angry voice, “What the hell are you thinking? Hold fire, I thought this was a capture situation. We’ve got men out there.”

  She did not hear Blair’s cold response in the chief’s ear buds, “No problem, I’m just practicing with a missile. McAllister should be to your right. I’ll rope her for you.”

  “Roger that,” came the reply.

  ***

  The force of the fall had knocked the air out of Sander’s lungs, and the pounding in the water kept him from replenishing his breath. He swept quickly downstream with only the occasional breath of air. Just like waterboarding, but for real. He had to keep gasping whenever possible, even if it meant a lungful of spray as a result. It was agony. His body slammed into boulders, with pain at every hit. Sander was about to pass out when he bobbed to the top of a shallow pool and crawled his way out of the grave-cold river.

  He was miles downstream, bruised like he’d been beaten with a baseball bat, soaked, and in a keening wind. A set of dark buildings were dimly visible at the top of the bank. He staggered to them and found an old horse camp, closed up for the winter. He managed to use a fist-sized rock and break off the barn lock. Pulling the door closed behind him, he found a pile of dirty saddle blankets and the floor covered with last season's hay.

  Looks like heaven, he thought, but if I don’t get dry and warm, I’m dead. As he started to shiver, he wrapped himself in blankets and stuffed in as much insulating straw as possible. His last thought before passing out was he should cover his tracks from the river, or try to hide.

  ***

  Mariana thought it a lucky break when her hunters revealed themselves; it should keep her one step ahead. She turned to angle for the mountain lake across the stony open area. I’ll use it to mask my heat signature. Until I freeze, it’s just crazy enough to work, she thought. She circled along the terrain to where she had judged it to be closest from tree to water, and with a quick look at the sky, darted out.

  The drone instantly hovered in front of her. She looked down and saw an evil red spot painted on her chest. She froze in place and r
aised her arms. Within minutes she felt the presence of her pursuers behind her. Her hands were lowered and securely zip-tied behind her. They started marching on trails she could barely see. Never more than a minimum of talking. Along the hike’s rough parts she was politely handled, but it was clear who had the guns.

  When they made it back to the SUVs, they ushered her inside a back seat, her hands still bound. Turning around from the front seat and peering at his captive, Blair said, “Hello, Mariana. You’ve been away.”

  “Should have known Mansfield would send his favorite bootlicker.”

  “Seems to me it wasn’t too long ago you were Master’s favorite.”

  “Yeah, that was when he needed talent instead of brown-nosing,” she spat back.

  “You shouldn’t have rejected me all those years ago; I could make things so much easier for you now. But for someone who’s about to be meet the Grim Reaper, it’s good to see you still have some fight,” Blair said. Then turning his head to face out the window, he called out in a louder voice, “Chief, let’s get this show on the road.”

  Miles of twisting road later, the SUV rolled through a gate and pulled up adjacent to a small mountain airstrip. The door opened, she was brought out to stand next to the car, flanked on either side by her captors. She watched a red and white, twin-engine King Air land in the bright runway lights, roll out and taxi to a stop across from them. Its cockpit door opened and a rather nondescript man rapidly walked towards the group.

  Blair roughly grabbed her arm and marched her out to meet the newcomer. The airfield’s runway lights provided illumination. The three of them met on the open grass. How unusual his eyes are, she thought. One black and one blue.