“My help?” She appeared dubious. “I doubt that. You have pretty much every single agency at your disposal. What could my little operation do that they can’t?”
He crossed his legs and leaned back, folding his hands together in his lap. His face looked thoughtful as he considered how to word his next sentence. “Eric Jennings has gone rogue. I need someone to find out what he is up to.”
The statement was brazen and to the point. Emily stopped what she was doing and stared at him for several seconds, considering what he’d just said. Even the few, quiet sounds of the office outside seemed to pause with the information. “What do you mean? Eric is the director of a very respectable, very powerful agency. It’s not like he’s just some field agent or an asset.”
She wasn’t buying it.
“All true,” Sam waved a finger at her, “but a desk job and a government salary don’t do a lot for the more ambitious souls of the industry.”
“Eric’s made plenty of money,” she argued. “He has to make at least in the low six figures with his years of experience.”
“A couple hundred grand won’t buy what it used to. Jennings has some expensive tastes and habits.”
As he finished the last sentence, Townsend pulled out some photos and slid them across the desk. Emily picked them up warily. They were photos of Jennings with various women. Some were on a sidewalk, outside of hotels, and in other random locations. “Looks like you already have someone watching him,” she dropped the pictures on the desk. “He can’t be spending all his money on women.”
“Not all of it. But he has other vices too. Eric has never managed his money well. And that also spills over into his professional life. You don’t have to look very far to see that his agency is almost always over budget, recklessly spending in areas where agencies like yours and others always come in under.”
She still wasn’t convinced. The gears in her mind were turning. Emily knew Townsend was a slimeball. He wasn’t a man to be trusted, but he wasn’t a man to meddle with either.
“Again, it looks like you already have someone on him. So why do you need me, Sam?”
He smiled like a kid who knew a secret that everyone else wanted to know. “It’s not just why I need you, Emily. I think whatever he’s up to will interest you as well.”
Will awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing and vibrating violently on the nightstand next to his bed. Groggily, he reached over and picked it up. His partner, Trent Morris, was on the line. That could mean only one thing: Someone had been murdered. Technically he was still on vacation for three more days, but he’d learned that when his partner called, it was important.
“Where?” He already knew the answer. He was somewhat surprised it had taken that long for the call to come in.
“Piedmont Park. Happened last night. Double tap, chest and head.”
“On my way,” he said and ended the call.
“What do you mean it will ‘interest’ me?” Emily sat down in her plush leather chair and peered at her counterpart.
“Jennings was the one who tried to take you out in Vegas. Not only that, but as of late he has taken a keen interest in your friends with the IAA.”
That got her attention. She pressed him. “So, you were observing them, but you didn’t have your team try to stop them? Thanks a lot.”
He laughed. “Who am I going to use? I didn’t have a team I could call at that point. My division is primarily used for observing and collecting information. I only had one guy on it.” That part was true. Townsend’s portion of the FBI had been dubbed a sovereign unit of sorts. They could bring down just about anyone without ever firing a weapon. She figured that most of his agents were capable of lending assistance in the field. If there were only a few on the assignment, though, it really would have taken a lot time to get members of another agency’s team into the area in time to help.
“So what were you doing in Vegas?” she asked after a few moments of reflection.
“Like I said, we were observing.” He knew what her next question would be, so he went ahead and answered it. “Specifically, we were watching Jennings’s agents.”
Emily appeared incredulous. She had a hard time believing that so many government agents could be recruited and operating outside the boundaries of their organizations without being noticed.
“Are you trying to tell me that all of those operatives in Vegas work for the Justice Department and you were there to see what they were up to?”
He shook his head, uncrossed his legs, then leaned forward slightly. Apparently, he understood her problem with that idea.
“No. We don’t think any of them do. We believe they’re all mercenaries, probably international contractors. They were recruited by Jennings.”
“Who are they?” she asked, her interest piqued just slightly. “There was a man and a woman. What do you know about those two?”
He placed a manila folder on the desk and slid it over to her. Emily eyed the packet then opened it up, revealing two photographs. One was a young man and the other a young woman. Their appearance was neat and professional looking. Both were attractive, probably in their midtwenties. There was a coldness to their faces that seemed to emanate from their eyes.
“James Collack and Angela Weaver,” Sam said as he leaned back. “I want to know who they are working for.”
“Couldn’t find that out on your own?” she asked in a snide tone.
He ignored the barb. “We believe that they may be working for a secret organization known as Golden Dawn. However, it appears that this secret society has a reach into our government of which we had previously been unaware.”
“So you think they are connected with someone? Who? White House? Senate? Supreme Court?”
He shrugged. “Maybe all of those. Maybe none of them. There is one particular part of government, though, that we know Golden Dawn has infiltrated.” Townsend let the thought hang for a moment, building the suspense before he continued. “How much do you know about Eric Jennings’s agency?”
Emily’s eyes widened slightly. “The Hoover Directive?” He nodded. “Not much, really. It’s a branch of the FBI that J. Edgar Hoover put together as a sort of black cell operation to work outside the bounds of the laws the bureau has to obey. No one outside of their little group really knows what they’ve been involved with, although we usually have a pretty good idea. Surely your operation knows more than I do.”
Her placating tone bounced off of him like a rubber ball. Nothing fazed him. “We know a great deal about their operations. However, most of what we know has to do with financial information and use of resources. My team does not usually get involved with much of the actual engagement.”
Then it hit her. That was why Townsend needed Axis. It was all starting to make sense. “So you need someone to do the grunt work?”
He smiled. “In a manner of speaking, yes. But more than that, I need someone I can trust.” The irony was not lost on him. He knew people didn’t necessarily trust him. Nor did he care. “I realize,” he added, “that you don’t trust me, and that is fine. But your reputation and career have been exemplary. I know that if I ask you for assistance you will do everything in your power to make sure that justice is served.”
“Justice?” she asked warily.
“Yes.” He waited for her reply without adding anything else. His expression was serious and anxious.
She considered what he was asking. All of her agents were in the field at the moment. Her best one had left a week ago to head to Uganda on a special assignment. He was the last one available for the foreseeable future.
“I suppose I can look into it,” she said finally. “But I can’t make any promises. And I’ll have to use some external resources.”
He held out his hands. “That’s all I’m asking for.” Then he stood and headed for the door. He stopped and turned around and said, “Thanks, Emily. I owe you one.” With that, he closed the door and disappeared into the hall.
She
looked down again at the photographs. The faces definitely belonged to the two attackers from Vegas. She’d recognized them immediately. Now Sam Townsend wanted to know whom they worked for. Something didn’t quite make sense. If he believed they worked for Eric Jennings and the Hoover Directive, what else was there to know? Plus, he’d already made the connection to Golden Dawn. It seemed like he already had it all figured out. Townsend must have believed the story went deeper but couldn’t figure it out, something that also didn’t add up. Sam had just as many resources as she did.
Emily laid the photos back on the desk and plopped down into her chair to think for a few moments. Doing the favor for Townsend was a by-product. She’d been planning on looking into Golden Dawn and its prophet anyway. Now she could kill two birds with one stone. Nevertheless, something still didn’t feel right.
Chapter 44
Atlanta
Detective Hastings held up his badge as he walked through the police line and past the onlookers and flashing cameras. It was too early in the morning to have to deal with this.
Growing up in an orphanage had made him tough. Will had been at the top of his class in everything he’d ever done, all the way back to first grade. He’d applied to a special program in the Justice Department right out of college and had breezed through the rigorous physical, psychological, and mental trials that had been the downfall of many others.
Upon completion of the training course, he had received an odd letter requesting a meeting in a specific location. All the letter had said was that he would be provided the opportunity of a lifetime and would never have to worry about money again.
Later that night, at the appointed time, Will had gone to the meeting place specified in the correspondence. He’d been curious, and the place was public enough, just outside a coffee shop in downtown Washington.
A black Yukon had pulled up, and the rear door opened. Inside, an old man sat smiling at him. “Looks like rain. Need a lift?” he’d asked insistently.
Will nodded and stepped into the vehicle.
His life had changed dramatically since that day. The Prophet had told him about the mission of Golden Dawn and how it would make the world a better place. He explained that soon they would have the power to wipe out all of the useless and evil people in the world and start the human race over again.
Will had developed a keen hatred of criminals and other people who bled the government dry every month. He hadn’t really bought into the religious mumbo jumbo that the Prophet had been spouting. For him, it was enough that he wanted to cleanse the earth of the riffraff. Extreme? Maybe. Or was it more extreme that criminals were housed in prisons all over the country at the expense of billions in taxpayer dollars? And what of all the useless people who’d been on welfare for years, doing nothing but sucking money out of the system? To Will, the Prophet’s proposal appealed to him on that level.
When an archaeologist in Atlanta had discovered clues the old man believed would lead to an ancient stone somewhere in North Georgia, Will had moved to Atlanta to work with the city’s police department. The paperwork had been put together quickly, and no one had thought anything about the transfer. Even fewer bothered to ask questions. The Prophet was well connected, indeed.
The only downside to having a cover as a police officer was actually having to do police work. Small price to pay for the benefits he was receiving. The Prophet had been very generous.
Will walked through a few more ranks of officers and CSIs before arriving at the motionless heap on the ground.
The body was on its side, lifeless eyes staring off into the hill to the east. A hole in the forehead signaled the likely cause of death, a thin line of dried blood tracing from it to the point where it had dripped onto the ground.
Hastings had no problem looking at the man he’d killed the night before. The man had served his purpose. The man had been Will’s surveillance puppet, ordered to watch Tommy Schultz from the moment he’d announced his initial discovery. The man had followed his orders, for the most part. In the end, though, he had to die.
“How was your vacation?” The familiar voice of his partner Trent Morris came from behind him.
Will turned and saw the tall, stately figure holding two cups of coffee. His tan trench coat was a contrast to his dark brown skin. Trent had grown up in a tough neighborhood on the east side of Atlanta. He’d decided early in life he would choose the right path, something that had gotten him in a few tight spots as a youth. As he’d grown older, though, his reputation commanded respect from all.
“One of those for me?” Will asked with a grin, his breath coming out of his mouth like fog in the cold air.
Trent held out one of the steaming cups. “It’s the least I could do.”
Morris had been a police officer for a few decades and was extremely popular within the department. He always took good care of the people around him and treated everyone with respect yet was unafraid to use his authority when needed. He was a true leader.
Will hoped he wouldn’t have to kill Trent at some point. He liked the man. Personal ties, however, had to be severed sometimes.
“I suppose I don’t really need you here, but I just want to make sure you’re involved as much as possible whenever something comes up. The more you get hands on, the better.” There was a hint at something in the tall black man’s voice, but Will couldn’t place what it was. He went on. “Obviously, two gunshot wounds. One to the head. One in the chest. Looks to be close range.”
Will knelt down and examined the body more closely, examining his handiwork. “Forty caliber,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Mmmhmm,” Trent agreed. “Ballistics should confirm that.”
Hastings stood again and took a gulp of the hot coffee. “Who is he?”
Trent looked distant for a moment then said, “Walk with me.”
Confused, Will obeyed and followed as his partner began walking away from the crime scene toward a little patch of bushes and trees just out of earshot of the other people working in the area.
“What is it?”
Morris looked around in all directions as if making sure no one could hear. “Officially, we don’t have a positive ID. When the report comes out, it’s going to be listed as a drug deal gone bad. It has all the makings of an execution, so that’s what we’re going to call it.”
“So we’re going to do a cover up? Why?” Will appeared dubious.
Trent pulled closer, and when he spoke it was barely above a whisper, being extra careful that no one could hear. “Because the victim is a federal agent.”
Chapter 45
Atlanta
The morning had been busy. Sean and Adriana had gone to some shops in Buckhead that he knew would be open in the morning hours. His Spanish companion had needed some clothes due to their hasty escape from the desert. So they’d spent thirty minutes grabbing some things she would need for the next few days. Hardly the way either one of them would have prepared for a trip to another continent, but under the circumstances it would suffice.
Satisfied they had all their required supplies, they drove in contemplative silence to the airport. Sean pulled his sedan up to the outside of a private hangar on the outskirts of Hartsfield-Jackson International. Enormous black letters designated that the gray-metal facility belonged to the IAA.
After they’d removed their bags from the trunk, he and Adriana walked around the front corner of the building and through the huge opening. Inside, a white G5 jet with the same black lettering stood silently in the cavernous recesses of the hangar.
Tommy was busily checking some paperwork off to the side where his car sat near the interior wall. A few mechanics and maintenance workers were going through their routine check sheets to make sure the plane was going to operate as it should.
“That’s quite a jet you have there,” Adriana commented as they approached.
Sean grinned. “Thanks. Having your own company plane certainly has its advantages.”
“I ca
n imagine,” she said, her mind drifting off as she spied the sleek vehicle.
Tommy noticed them as they drew near and handed the clipboard to his driver, who acknowledged him with a nod and retreated to the black car forty feet away. He reached out and offered to take one of the bag’s Sean was carrying. “I’ll get that for you,” he said with a smile. “Did you guys get some sleep last night?” There was a playful tone in his voice.
“Yes, it was nice to get some proper sleep,” Villa replied as they followed Schultz up the steps into the cabin of the jet. Neither her voice nor her face gave away anything.
Apparently, he was either going to get no details, or there were none to get.
At the entrance to the plane, the passengers were greeted with a luxurious aroma of leather and rich wood. The plane’s interior opened up into a lavish space decorated in cream-colored floors and walls, accented by dark wood panels and furniture.
Several rows of tanned Napa leather seats faced each other with plenty of space between each. A wall jutted out toward the aft of the cabin and was separated with a doorway.
“These are our main travel quarters and meeting room,” Tommy said, extending his hand.
“All of these seats recline, but in the back,” he pointed to the door, “we have some sleeping rooms as well for the longer trips.
“Impressive,” Adriana said as she stepped over to a window and leaned over, taking a look outside.
Tommy took the baggage and stowed it in an overhead bin near the exit. “If you will excuse me, I’ve got to take care of a few other things before we head out.”
Sean plopped down in a comfortable leather seat and leaned back while Adriana took a seat opposite of him. He cast her a casual smile, which she returned in kind.
“Thank you for being a gentleman last night,” she said after a brief moment of silence.
The grin eased over to one side of his mouth. “Don’t give me more credit than I deserve. I was just tired, that’s all.”
She wasn’t buying it but decided not to press the issue. What she hadn’t determined was whether or not he was holding back because of choice or because of some deeply seated pain from his past. Maybe it was a touch of both. He seemed genuinely attracted to her. Men usually were.
Sean Wyatt Compilation Box Set Page 46
