State of Conspiracy (Titus Black Thriller series Book 8)

by R. J. Patterson

  A half-hour later, Besserman called him back. “I’ve got good news, J.D.”

  “What is it?”

  “We found the van,” Besserman said. “I’m texting you the address now.”

  “Thanks,” Blunt said. “You’re a life saver, Bobby. A literal life saver.”

  Blunt hung up and sighed in relief. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER 35

  37°32’57.1” N 72°48’56.5”W

  Over the Atlantic Ocean

  BLACK CHECKED HIS instruments as the Gulfstream 650 continued to zip toward Washington. His co-pilot, who was little more than a babysitter, announced that he needed to use the restroom. He unbuckled himself and exited the cockpit.

  For the first time in hours, Black was alone. And he didn’t waste any time.

  Working quickly, he dialed into a secure emergency channel monitored by the CIA and asked to be connected to J.D. Blunt. At first, the man on the other end was taken aback by the request. Then Black read off Blunt’s number, pleading with the man to hurry. In less than a minute, Black and Blunt were talking.

  “I don’t have much time,” Black said. “But I wanted to let you know that I’m flying a Gulfstream 650 that’ll be landing in Washington within an hour.”

  “They took you captive to fly a plane?”

  Black set his jaw. “They know I can get them into the country without any resistance.”

  “Not now,” Blunt said. “You tell us where you’re landing and we’ll have a team on site.”

  “They have Agent Shields.”

  Blunt chuckled. “Not for long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We found out where they’re holding her,” Blunt said. “I’ve sent Brady Hawk over to the address to extract her along with a team from the CIA.”

  “Don’t send a team to the airport until you have her safe,” Black said. “Do you understand me?”

  Blunt didn’t respond.

  “Do you understand me?” Black repeated.

  “What are they planning?”

  Black heard footsteps drawing closer. “I have to go.”

  “We’ll give you instructions in code as you make your final approach,” Blunt said.

  Black clicked off the radio as the door to the cockpit swung open. The co-pilot had returned and poked his head inside, wearing a curious look on his face.

  “Did I hear you speaking with someone?” he asked.

  Black shook his head. “I don’t typically talk to myself, so it must’ve been someone else.”

  “No,” the co-pilot said. “I distinctly heard you speaking with someone. Don’t make me beat it out of you.”

  “You’re going to start a fight with the pilot? The only one who knows how to land this bird properly? The only one who can keep you alive and get you into the United States? That’s the person you want to provoke?”

  The co-pilot pulled his gun out of his holster and jammed the barrel into Black’s head. “I’m more than capable of doing everything you just described,” the co-pilot said in a voice devoid of any accent. “You might think I’m a dolt, but I’m very familiar with how to fly this plane and with how to navigate my way around Washington.”

  “So you’re an American?”

  “Was an American. When the country turned its back on me, I decided it wasn’t worthy of my allegiance.”

  “Then you’re a traitor,” Black said, resulting in the co-pilot exerting more pressure on the back of Black’s head with the gun.

  “Maybe I was never supposed to belong to this country in the first place,” the co-pilot said before drawing back his weapon.

  Black turned slowly and eyed the man cautiously. “Who are you?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

  “Do you know what these men are about to do?” Black asked.

  “What we’re about to do,” the co-pilot corrected.

  “So, you’re with them?”

  “A hundred and ten percent. Tonight, we ride.”

  “And you have no qualms about killing innocent people?”

  The co-pilot chuckled. “The U.S. military has no qualms about killing innocent people. It happens all the time in the Middle East. The attempts to stop terrorism have only turned the region into a fertile breeding ground. And I can’t say I blame the people for their hostility toward the U.S.”

  “War is ugly, and so is collateral damage,” Black said. “That’s why there are other ways to deal with terrorist cells and their leaders as opposed to just strafing every cave from Amman to Zinjibar with drones.”

  “The only missions I hear about are the ones the military screws up.”

  Black shakes his head. “There are far more that achieve the desired result without the loss of any innocent life. But you’re not supposed to hear about that. You’re not supposed to hear about any of them.”

  “Look at you,” the co-pilot said with a sneer, “riding that moral high horse like you’re leading the charge of the cavalry. Well, I’ve got some news for you—you don’t hold any moral high ground.”

  “Never claimed to,” Black said with a shrug. “I’m trying to do what’s right.”

  “Yet here you are shirking every bit of your training, willing to land a bunch of terrorists in the U.S. capital, just to save one woman’s life. Trying to do what’s right, my ass.”

  Black turned his attention to the controls, checking his altimeter and the aircraft’s heading. “Sometimes the right thing to do can be gray.”

  “Selling out hundreds of innocent people for one woman doesn’t seem gray at all,” the co-pilot said. “It’s black and white, not to mention pretty damn self-serving.”

  “To each his own,” Black said, trying to end the conversation. He wasn’t interested in engaging the co-pilot any more, especially since it was a waste of time. Meanwhile, Black had gleaned a clue as to the terrorist’s target. They intended to strike a large public gathering—and they intended to do it not long after they landed.

  Black gripped the stick, more than willing to drive the plane straight into the ground, if necessary.

  Please find Christina.

  He said a quick prayer under his breath and checked his watch. In fifty minutes, they’d be on the ground.

  And he still had no idea what he was going to do.

  CHAPTER 36

  Undisclosed location

  CHRISTINA SHIELDS YANKED on the rope that tethered her to the cast iron bed frame. Her wrists were clamped together with a zip tie. Death metal music filled the room, blasted from a small sound system in the far corner. The only window was covered with a black plastic bag, making it impossible for Shields to tell what time of day it was and further adding to her agitation. The single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling cast a red glow.

  “I hope you realize I’m gonna kill every one of you sickos when I get outta here,” Shields shouted, even though she doubted they could hear her.

  She didn’t know where she was or how many captors there were. To make matters worse, they still hadn’t given Shields her prosthetic leg, which made tying her up seem comical.

  It’s not like I’m going to escape by hopping away.

  Whenever the music stopped, she screamed for someone to help her. But no one ever responded. Her hunger pangs started to overtake her thoughts, usurping her plotting to get revenge on her kidnappers. Another hour went by and she wondered how much more she could take of the torture.

  Finally, the music paused as a man entered the room. He wore an oversized bunny head and was holding a tray with a sandwich on it.

  “Eat up, princess,” he said, his voice muffled through the costume.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked. “I was just trying to work out.”

  “Sure you were,” the man said before slicing the plastic tie and freeing her hands. “Now eat up. You’ll need your strength. You have a big day ahead of you.”

  “What are you going to do with me?”

  The man did
n’t reply, instead turning on his heels and heading toward the door.

  “At least give me back my leg,” Shields said. “I feel naked without it.”

  The man stopped and turned, the bunny’s goofy face staring at her for a moment. Shields lunged at him before the rope extended fully, the tension on it jerking her backward. He chuckled and then left.

  The music resumed and so did Shields’ irritation. She had a pounding headache from the noise as well as the thumping bass that pulsated through her body.

  Make it stop.

  She took a couple of bites from the sandwich and contemplated what she could use as a weapon the next time bunny head entered the room. If the plate had been breakable, she would’ve shattered it and used a jagged piece like a knife. But the sandwich made out of stale bread was on a paper towel, while the cup of water was also plastic.

  They’ve done this before.

  She saw a pen lying on the floor across the room, but it was just out of her reach. For a couple of minutes she tried in vain to rake it to her with her foot. Exhausted from the attempt and the lack of sleep, she passed out.

  * * *

  WHEN SHIELDS AWOKE, she noticed the music had stopped. She didn’t know how long it had been quiet in the room or how long she’d been asleep. But she didn’t care. The momentary peace was what she needed to gather her wits and formulate a plan to get free.

  If only I had my leg.

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” Shields shouted. She repeated her announcement until she heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway.

  Bunny man opened the door and strode inside. “You’re gonna have to make it quick, princess. You have places to be.”

  He untied her from the bed, but didn’t let go of the rope. Using his free hand, he gestured for her to go down the hall.

  “I need my leg or this is going to be a painful trip,” she said.

  “Fine,” the man said with a growl. He called for another man to bring him Shields’ prosthetic leg. After nothing happened for a few seconds, he called again. Then, her leg came sliding down the hallway. He picked it up and attached it to the stump just below her knee.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Much,” she said. “Thank you.”

  The truth was she wanted to clobber the man and pull his entrails out while he begged for mercy, but if she controlled herself, she might have a chance to do that or worse. Humanizing herself was her first priority at the moment.

  “Last door on the left,” he said. “That’s where we’re going.”

  “We’re going?” she asked

  He nodded without saying a word.

  “I need some privacy.”

  Bunny man chuckled. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight, you’re crazier than you look. And trust me, right now you look like a full-fledged lunatic.”

  Shields glanced at the mirror. Her hair was a matted mess, still laden with chlorine from her swim at the gym pool. Maybe it was a day ago, two days ago—she wasn’t sure. The bags sagging under her eyes didn’t serve as a helpful clue to how long she’d been held captive. She looked scary, affirming Bunny man’s snide comment.

  But she wasn’t crazy. She was very much sane, no matter how he tried to disparage her and her looks.

  She stopped and looked at the toilet. “Would you mind at least turning around?”

  Bunny man shook his head. “Boss’s orders.”

  Shields rolled her eyes and discreetly dropped her pants as she took a seat on the porcelain throne.

  “So, you’re just a peon worker?” she asked. “What’s the boss wear? A frog head? Perhaps an Abe Lincoln head?”

  “Shut up, lady. I don’t wanna be here anymore than you do.”

  “Then why don’t we leave together? We can be vigilantes on the run, like Bunny and Clyde.”

  Bunny man jerked on the rope. “Is this some kind of joke to you? Because I can make you uncomfortable, very uncomfortable.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “If we weren’t about to leave, I’d do more than try.”

  Shields huffed a laugh through her nose. “All talk and no action. Exactly what I’d expected from a beta male too scared to show his face.”

  Bunny man jerked on the rope again, snapping Shields upward and to her feet. She stumbled toward him and placed her hands forward on his chest in an effort to remain upright. However, he shoved her aside and she tripped over her pants, still around her ankles.

  The man laughed again as she scrambled to pull her pants up and get to her feet.

  “Now who’s all talk?” he said. “Back to your room.”

  When they reached the hallway, a man with a Richard Nixon mask stopped them. He glanced down at Shields’ leg.

  “What are you doing?” he asked. “The boss man said she wasn’t supposed to have her leg.”

  “She needed to go to the bathroom and I didn’t want her hopping down the hall,” Bunny man said.

  “You mean like a rabbit?” Shields asked.

  “I’m not gonna tell you again,” Bunny man said. “Shut the hell up now.”

  “Smooth, Bugs,” Nixon said.

  “Look, I’ll take it off now,” said Bunny man.

  “We don’t have time,” Nixon replied. “We need to go right now. Boss man is outside waiting for us.”

  “You hear that, Clyde,” Bunny man said. “They need us outside. And you don’t want to keep the boss man waiting.”

  “What’s he gonna do to me?” she asked. “Make me listen to more death metal? Make me—”

  Shields stopped mid-sentence as she felt a blow to the back of her head. Everything suddenly went dark.

  CHAPTER 37

  Undisclosed location

  BRADY HAWK EXITED the van with three other CIA agents and hustled down the street toward the clapboard house. Most of the houses on the street had fallen into disrepair. Chain-link fences leaned so far they appeared to invite people into the yards. Dogs growled at them from across the street. One woman walking her dog on the opposite sidewalk noticed them but then turned and hustled away.

  “You sure this is it?” one of the men asked in a hushed tone over the coms.

  “This is where we last saw the van,” Hawk said.

  “Well, where’s the van now?” another agent asked.

  “Probably in that detached garage behind the house,” Hawk said. “I doubt they’d park their vehicle on the street. Now, let’s move closer.”

  “Have we had eyes on this place since we discovered the CCTV footage that traced the van back here?” the first agent asked.

  “Affirmative,” Hawk said. “There’s been no movement in or out of the house since then.”

  “Roger that.”

  The team moved stealthily along the street, crouching low and working hard to remain in the shadows. Hawk put his hand up, signaling for his colleagues to stop. He pointed out a patch of black ice on the driveway directly ahead. Satisfied that everyone noticed it, Black continued on.

  “How are we looking, Alex?” Hawk asked over the coms.

  “The house is still quiet,” she answered from her office, where she was monitoring everything with video cameras that had been quietly installed earlier that afternoon. “I’m panning across the property now and it’s still dead.”

  “Copy that,” Hawk said.

  Before they moved onto the property, Hawk wanted to check the garage to make sure they weren’t walking into a booby-trapped house. He’d had a friend in the FBI get killed when he walked into a house that cut the natural gas line. All it took was one spark before the entire place went off like a bomb.

  Hawk tried to open the door on the side, but it was locked. One of the other agents tapped Hawk on the shoulder and winked. Hawk stepped out of the way and let the man work. Within thirty seconds, he turned the handle and gestured for Hawk to go inside.

  He studied the van for a moment before putting his hand on the engine. “It’s cold.”

  “The
n it hasn’t gone anywhere,” Alex said.

  “Let’s make sure this is the same van before we throw a party,” Hawk said.

  He read off the license plate number to Alex, who then verified that it was indeed the same vehicle spotted carrying Agent Shields away from the gym.

  “She has to be inside,” Hawk said.

  The team split up, Hawk and one agent taking the front while the other two agents went around back.

  “Ready?” Hawk asked.

  “Locked and loaded,” one of the agents at the back said.

  Hawk pulled the pin on the canister in his hand before launching it through the window. Shattered glass tinkled on the floor as the gas filled up the front room. Hawk braced for either a gunfight or some men barreling through the front door. But he got neither.

  The house remained silent.

  “Permission to enter,” one of the agents in the back asked.

  “Permission granted,” Hawk said.

  He remained on the front steps, crouching low beside the steps in case someone finally exited the house. A half a minute passed, but still nothing.

  “You see anything?” Hawk asked over the coms.

  “I’m clearing all the rooms. So far, it’s empty.”

  “Damn it,” Hawk said. “I’m coming in to join you.”

  Hawk swept the living room and kitchen area before heading downstairs. He activated his infrared goggles before moving cautiously down the steps, each one creaking slightly louder than the last. With the lights out, he could see in the darkness without any issues. But there were no heat signatures anywhere except near the hot water heater.

  Then he spotted a faint light at the end of the hallway.

  “I’ve got something,” Hawk said as he eased toward the room. He passed a bathroom on his right, which had a fan on that muted the sounds around him.

  He waited for a moment before kicking the door open. The rush of wind into the small space swayed the single red lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. But Hawk removed his goggles and didn’t see anyone.

  “It’s clear,” Hawk said.

  “Then where the hell did she go?” asked the agent upstairs.