Rendition Protocol

by Nathan Goodman

  33

  US Code Section 793

  Safe house, Gray’s Farm Main Road, Hawksbill Bay.

  Jana threw the box of candy to the ground and her jaw muscles flexed. “I’m not mad at you for collecting my mail. What I want to know is why did you bring these letters here? What makes you think I have any interest in that man? He’s dead to me. He’s been dead my whole life! But wait a minute,” she said as she thumbed through the envelopes. “These are all opened. You’ve been reading them, haven’t you?”

  “FBI has been reading your mail since you disappeared. I told you before, you killed the most-wanted terrorist in the world and that puts you in danger.”

  “Oh,” Jana replied, “the FBI has been reading them. What about you?”

  Cade looked at his feet. “No one knew what to do with your mail, so I’ve been collecting it.”

  But Jana was fixated. “Yeah? Just what I thought. Did you share these around the office? Everybody get a good laugh? Ha ha. Agent Baker’s dad is in the joint!”

  “It’s not like that,” Cade said.

  Stone interrupted. “Hey, I don’t mean to jump in the middle of something, but your father is in the pen? What did he do?”

  Jana’s face froze. “US Code, section 793,” she said.

  Stone thought for a moment. “793? But that’s . . . espionage.”

  “Yes,” Jana replied. “My father committed treason against the United States.” Her lower lip quivered but she recovered quickly. “I was two years old. They told me he’d died, cancer. As an adult, I found out the truth.”

  “Jesus,” Stone said.

  “And Cade here thinks bringing me marzipan and these letters is going to, what? Get me to open up? Find my roots and all that crap?” She moved to within an inch of his face. “You think this is going to change me back into the girl you used to know? What a bunch of psychobabble bullshit!” She threw the letters to his feet.

  “Kelly Everson—”

  “You talked to Kelly?” Jana blurted. “About me? What gives you the right?”

  Stone said, “Who’s Kelly Everson?”

  “Headshrinker,” Cade replied. “Counseled Jana through the PTSD. Yes, of course I talked to Kelly. We all did. And she feels—”

  “Don’t talk to me about what she feels. I love Kelly, but I don’t want to hear it. Get it through your head. I’m not going back. I’m never going back.” Jana walked into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her.

  Stone looked at the mass of envelopes at Cade’s feet and the candies spread across the floor. He said, “Well, that went well. Good job.”

  34

  Of Rogues and Danger

  Safe house, Gray’s Farm Main Road, Hawksbill Bay.

  Cade collected the envelopes and candies and dropped them onto the desk next to his laptop. He studied the monitor again and shook his head. “Where is that satellite?” His cellphone buzzed. “Cade Williams?”

  “Cade,” Knuckles said. “Hold on, here’s Uncle—”

  Uncle Bill came on the phone. “Cade, we’ve got a problem with the satellite.”

  “No kidding. I can’t make a connection. I’m going to reposition the NROL-55 to see if I can get a better signal.”

  “That won’t help. The uplink has been cut, purposely.”

  “Bill, what are you talking about?”

  “Don’t worry about that right now. We don’t have much time.” Bill was almost speed-talking. “There’s a spotter on your twelve o’clock. You’ve got to get—”

  The phone call clipped into silence. Cade pressed it against his ear. “Bill? You still there?” The only thing he could hear was silence. No background noise, no shuffling feet, no breathing. He looked at the phone. The call was dead. “What the hell?”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. The call dropped.” Cade was still staring at it. “And now I’ve got no cell signal.”

  “No signal? Are you sure?”

  “Bill was saying . . .”

  “Saying what?”

  “God, he was talking so fast. I don’t know. Twelve o’clock?” Cade looked at his watch.

  “What else did he say?”

  “Why would my cell be dead? What? Oh, he said something about a spotter.”

  “A spotter?” Stone said as he turned and looked out the large windows. “Wait, he said twelve o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good God, Cade,” Stone rushed outside and opened the trunk of his Jeep. He pulled out a large case and brought it in.

  “What are you doing?”

  Stone flipped the latches on the case and opened it. Inside was an automatic weapon tucked neatly into hardened foam. “Jana?” he yelled. “We’ve got to bug out, right now!”

  “Why do we have to leave?” Cade said.

  Stone removed the HK 416 carbine, jammed a magazine into the weapon and charged a round. “Commo is out, right?” Stone said as he grabbed extra magazines and stuffed them into his beltline.

  “Commo?”

  “Communications equipment. You lost the secure comlink, and now your cellphone, and Bill mentions twelve o’clock and a spotter?”

  “Right, but—”

  “Look out the window, nimrod. At our twelve o’clock. Guy in a twenty-foot Whaler with a pair of binoculars.”

  “What?”

  Jana ran into the room and Stone handed her a Glock. She took it from him and checked to ensure a round was in the chamber. It was as if she was on autopilot.

  “We’re going out the back,” Stone said.

  Without another word, the three went into Jana’s room. Stone threw the window up. They climbed out and disappeared into the dense tropical foliage.

  35

  Orders Countermanded

  NSA Command Center.

  Knuckles ran to Uncle Bill, who was nose-first in a laptop monitor. Bill looked at the boy. “What?” Bill said.

  “DEA Special Ops, sir. Something’s wrong.”

  “The flight? What happened?”

  “They went wheels up sixteen minutes ago, but they just turned back.”

  “Turned back? What for? Mechanical? Get me the commander.”

  Knuckles scrambled to put on a headset. He pecked away at his laptop, then said, “Commander Brigham? Stand by for NSA, William Tarleton.”

  Bill took the headset. “Special Agent Brigham, radar track shows you’ve turned due west.”

  A crackle across the headset initiated the reply from the DEA commander. The plane’s engines roared in the background. “Sir, just received the abort command. We are standing down.”

  “Abort command? I didn’t authorize any . . .” But Bill stopped a moment. “From where did the order originate?” Though he had his suspicions.

  “Not at liberty to say, sir.”

  Uncle Bill covered the mic. “Son of a bitch!” He then said to the commander, “Roger that. This is NSA, out.” He turned to Knuckles. “Wallace must have found out I ordered DEA onto the scene. CIA has countermanded my orders.”

  “Sir, the cellphones of Cade, Jana, and the contractor, John Stone, have all been cut. We have no way to reach them.” The kid began to look frantic. “Are you telling me CIA cut all our comms with our own team?”

  “Damn right that’s what I’m saying.”

  “Uncle Bill, they’re down there all alone, with no support. What are our options? Can we call local authorities?”

  “Can’t risk it. It wouldn’t be uncommon for one or both of the cartels to have penetrated the police forces there. We’d be giving them away. No, we’ve got to pray that our message got through.”

  Knuckles took his laptop and began to walk away.

  Bill said, “Think up a way we can raise them.”

  36

  The Approach

  Jana held the Glock and pushed Cade between her and Stone.

  “Why do you keep looking behind us?” Cade said to her.

  “Checking our six, dumbass.”

  �
��Quiet,” Stone said. “Both of you.” He held the carbine forward and led them out the back of the property through the tropical foliage, a mixed thicket of banana, jumbie soursop, and apra trees. They moved away from the house and toward the unpaved road until Stone held up a fist, the signal to stop. They took cover in the dense undergrowth and looked in the direction of the boat.

  “Who is that?” Jana said.

  Stone replied, “I don’t know, but this can’t be good.”

  “How much ammo you got?” Jana said.

  “A thirty-round mag and two in reserve,” Stone said. “Yours is full. Sixteen plus one in the pipe.”

  They scanned the surrounding area, then focused on the boat and its sole occupant. “The Glock 34 holds seventeen in the mag, not sixteen,” Jana said.

  Stone shook his head. “Starting to regret I trained you, Baker.”

  Cade said, “Sixteen rounds, seventeen rounds. Does it really matter? Can we focus on the issue here? Like, who is that asshole and why is he watching us?”

  “I can think of a couple of possibilities,” Stone said, “and none of them are good. We’re going to have to get out of here.”

  “Wait!” Jana said. “Look.”

  The man put down the binoculars and threw a second anchor into the water. The first was off the bow, and this one, thrown off the stern, would serve to stabilize the boat.

  “He’s staying for a while, that’s for sure,” Stone said.

  The man secured the line tightly then slid his legs over the railing and dropped into the deep turquoise water.

  “Are we sure this has anything to do with us?” Cade said. “Guy could be just a tourist out for a swim.”

  “A tourist with a pair of Steiner binoculars trained straight onto our safe house? We lose commo and all three of our cellphones go dead? Simultaneously? Bullshit. He’s a spotter and we’ve been made. The cartel knows we’re here. The only question is, which one.”

  “Agreed,” Jana said. “But look, he’s swimming to shore.”

  “I say we get out of here,” Cade said.

  “No,” Jana replied. “Let’s see who it is.”

  They watched as the man came out of the water onto the beach. He removed his T-shirt and wrung it out.

  “He’s not carrying a weapon,” Stone said, though he held his rifle on the man.

  “He’s coming this way,” Jana said. “Christ, he’s walking right toward the house!”

  37

  To Thwart an Attack

  To Thwart an Attack

  The man walked straight for the safe house as the trio watched. He walked up the drive to the Jeep and paused as he looked inside. He walked farther and his footsteps crunched into the crushed coral. When he got to the house, he peered into the bay window with his hands around his eyes.

  “What does he think he’s doing?” Jana said as she again scanned the area behind them. Her eyes were in constant motion.

  “Looking for us,” Stone replied. He thumbed the safety on his carbine into the off position.

  The man walked to another window and looked inside.

  “Okay, here’s how this is going to go down,” Stone said. “I’m going to sneak up there and take him down. Jana, keep an eye on our six. If he’s got a crew on the way, they could roll in any second. If he gives me a fight, I’m going to knock his ass out. Cade, if anything happens—” He stopped. “Jana where are you going?”

  “Watch and learn,” she said before quietly pushing through the undergrowth and toward the man.

  “Jana!” Cade whispered.

  “I’ve created a monster,” Stone said as he watched Jana approach the subject from behind. He turned and looked down the unpaved road to ensure an attack was not coming.

  “Stop her!” Cade said.

  “Relax, cubicle-boy. Watch this.”

  Jana was within four feet of the man and had tucked the Glock into her jeans. When he stepped just past the window, Jana blasted a shoulder into him like a linebacker. His body smashed into the side of the house in a shocked mass and Jana wrenched him to the ground.

  Stone and Cade leapt from their position and ran to her but Jana was atop the man, with one knee in the back of his neck. She held one of his arms behind him in a wristlock as the man gagged in an effort to return air to his lungs.

  Stone crouched into a cover position and pointed his weapon toward the road—he was preparing for an attack that did not appear to be coming. “Nice takedown.” He reached up and grabbed Cade and yanked him down.

  “I rather enjoyed that,” Jana replied. “Now, let’s find out who this asshole is.” Jana paused as the man coughed and began to regain his composure. She said, “You, talk.”

  The man’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe under her weight. “I . . . I . . .”

  “Alright, old man, what are you doing walking up on us like that? And while you’re explaining that, why don’t you help me understand why you’re anchored off the beach, conducting surveillance on us?”

  “It’s not like that. I’m, I’m looking for someone,” he said.

  “Well, you found someone,” Jana said. “So before I thump your skull for you, who are you looking for?”

  “Her name is Baker,” he coughed. “Jana Baker.”

  Stone turned and looked at Jana. To him she appeared to be lost in a distant thought.

  Jana shook it off and her brow furled. “Who do you work for?”

  “No one!” the man said. “It’s not like that.”

  “Then why are you looking for Jana Baker?” Stone said.

  “Because she’s my daughter.”

  38

  Federal Identification

  There was something about the voice. Bits and flashes of long-lost memories popped into Jana’s vision. The aroma of sizzling bacon, sunlight glistening on the tips of dew-covered stalks of corn, and the smell of aftershave.

  Jana rolled the man onto his back. She stared into his eyes and her mouth dropped open. It was her father. She hadn’t seen him since she was a toddler. Yet here he was, in the flesh. His skin was wrinkled and red with sunburn. But the eyes. The eyes were weary and haggard, yet they removed all doubt. He was her father.

  Jana stood. She looked like someone who had seen a ghost. Her voice became guttural. “I can’t . . . what are you . . . I don’t understand.”

  “Jana?” the man said. “Is that really you? My God . . .”

  Jana’s breathing deepened. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to find you. I came to find you and tell you I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?” Jana barked. “Sorry for abandoning me when I was a baby? Sorry for getting my mother killed?” Jana stepped back. “I grew up without a father or a mother. Do you know what that’s like? And you’re sorry? Stay away from me.” Yet more memories flashed before her eyes. The greenish glow of sunlight passing through foliage into her childhood fort, the jingle of change is someone’s pocket, and the smell of marzipan—dark chocolate and almond paste. She backpedaled and almost tripped.

  Cade and Stone stood speechless.

  “Jana, wait,” her father said. “Please let me talk to you.”

  He began to step toward her when Stone held out a stiffened arm.

  “No, no,” Jana said as her head shook. “You can’t be my father. You can’t!” she screamed.

  Cade went to her. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  “Jana, please,” her father said as Cade led her away.

  Stone turned on him. “Turn around. Hands on your head. Interlock your fingers.” He spun the man against the house. Once he had frisked him, he said, “Break out some ID.”

  The man removed a small, wet, leather wallet and pulled out an orange-colored identification card. On it was a photo of the man along with a barcode. The card read,

  US Department of Justice

  Federal Bureau of Prisons

  09802-082

  AMES, Richard William

  INMATE

  “So
you’re Jana’s father, huh? Then why does this say your last name is Ames?”

  But the man was fixated on Jana as she disappeared inside. “That is my last name.”

  “Her last name is not Ames.”

  “Baker was her mother’s maiden name. After I went to the pen, her mother disavowed all knowledge of me.” His voice shook. “She changed Jana’s name to Baker. Please, I have to talk to her.”

  Stone held him back but reengaged the safety mechanism on his rifle. He called out, “Cade?” Cade popped his head out the door. “Man claims to be Jana’s father yet his last name is—”

  “Ames. Yeah, I know.” Cade shook his head. “John Stone, meet former CIA case officer Richard Ames. Arrested in 1998 for treason against the United States, and the father of Jana Baker.”

  Stone took Ames by the collar and led him to the door. “Time to have a little talk, Mr. Ames.”

  “Jana doesn’t want to see him,” Cade said.

  “I know, but there’s a few things we’re going to have to find out, like how Mr. Ames here found us.”

  39

  Not That Type of Music

  Stone led the man inside and pushed him into a hard wicker chair.

  Ames looked for Jana, but saw only a closed bedroom door.

  “Alright, old man, talk,” Stone said.

  “What?”

  “You know what,” Cade said.

  “I, uh. Well, I’ve been out a few months.”

  “And what about that?” Stone said as he examined the ID card. “When I run you through NCIC, am I going to find you’re a fugitive now? “

  “No! No, I served my time. Twenty-eight years and thirty-six days. I paid my debt to society. I’ve been released.”

  Cade said, “Paid your debt? They should have buried you under the prison.”