by Robin Mahle
“Of course it is. Come in, take a load off.” She secured the door. “You want a beer or something?”
“Sure. Why not.” Trevor walked into the living room and sat down.
Lacy returned and handed him the bottle. “Here you go.” She continued toward the sofa and took a seat.
“I just wanted to clear the air. Make sure there are no hard feelings. I don’t like the thought of you being mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. Is that what you think? Look, I get where you’re coming from with regard to Greiner. I really do. I was just hoping I could work what I believe could be a lead. But I understand.”
“I know it’s tough. Especially since we’ve been after Yang and Dalian for so long. But you have to trust me, Lacy. Everything I’m doing—we’re doing—serves a purpose.”
“I trust you with my life, Trevor.” For a moment, she noticed his cheeks flush a pale shade of pink. She adored him so much. While he wasn’t old enough to be her father, he was, at the very least, like an older brother to her. Always watching out for her and keeping an eye out for her best interest. She’d grown to love these men very much and was still heartbroken to have lost Keith. “We’re not going to find anything on Turner before the trial, are we?”
“I haven’t given up on that. We’ll just have to hope justice prevails. He won’t be tried for murder right now, but he sure as hell can be at any time down the road. That’s what keeps me going. That, and knowing that you three have my back. Just like Keith did.” He finished his beer. “I’ll get out of your hair. Looks like you’re ready for bed.” He checked the time. “I guess it is getting late. Sometimes I forget, you know? I don’t have kids or a wife to remind me to come home.” He stood to leave.
“I’ll walk you out.” Lacy led the way to the door and pulled it open. The icy air pierced her skin. “I hear it might snow tonight.”
“That’s what they say.” Trevor pulled on his coat. “Listen, there’s one other thing I wanted to mention away from the boys.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s pretty clear, to me anyway, that there are a lot of emotions floating around our little group.”
This time, Lacy turned flush.
“I may be in my fifties, but I’m not dead. I can see when a man has feelings for a woman. But the problem is, I think you may have one suitor too many, you catch my drift?”
“I can’t think about that right now, Trevor.”
He held up his hands. “I’m not saying you want any part of whatever they got going on. I just want you to be aware that it could and probably already has affected certain decisions those boys have made. Now, they are grown men and I don’t think for one minute that they’d crumble under the weight of any sort of rejection coming from you. I just don’t want there to be any problems between any of us. We need to maintain focus on our objective. We need to be able to depend on one another.”
“I know. If I need to set someone straight, then I can do that.”
“Okay.” Trevor kissed her cheek. “Now close this door before you catch your death.” He stepped outside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday.”
“Is it? Well, shit. Guess I’ll see you Monday at the trial.”
Chapter 6
The throngs of media outlets with their cameras and microphone-wielding reporters descended upon the courthouse steps like killer bees on the attack.
Several police and Secret Service escorted disgraced former Deputy Secretary Wendell Turner toward the building.
Lacy was several feet away and turned to Will. “Glad to see the press is finally showing an interest.” Behind her shaded lenses and beneath a wool hat and coat, she observed the spectacle.
“Just so long as they don’t spot you. That’s the last thing we need.”
“They won’t. They’re not looking for me. Not anymore.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. You did just have a run-in with a reporter the other day. Still, it does feel surreal watching this unfold. That should’ve been Drew Kendrick. The rest of it might never have happened.”
“Yes. It should have. It didn’t have to end the way it did. And Keith might still be here. But things didn’t work out the way we planned. And now look at us. Standing here, hoping we aren’t spotted and watching this charade unfold. He should be going down for murder.”
“He should, but like you said. Best laid plans.”
“Right.” She watched as the mass inched their way toward the stone steps. “Doesn’t look like they’ve got him handcuffed.”
“Maybe they’re trying to let him keep some dignity. Not that he deserves it.” Will surveyed the growing crowd. “I thought Axell was coming? Do you see him anywhere? He said he didn’t want to miss one second of, how’d he put it? ‘That traitor getting what he deserves.’”
Lacy checked her cell phone. “I don’t have any missed calls or texts from him. But yeah, that’s what he said. Should we call him?”
“No. It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s happening. Something might’ve come up. You never know with Axell.”
“I suppose. He could be with Aaron. I haven’t heard from him yet this morning either.”
“Good point.” Will adjusted his sunglasses and folded his arms. “They’re bringing him to the front now.”
The reporters began to shout questions, or rather, demands for answers. One asked if Turner thought he was a traitor to his country. Another asked if he had anything to do with the death of Drew Kendrick.
Lacy appeared repulsed. “It’s a little late for those questions now.” In that moment, she locked eyes with Turner. He appeared to recoil and continue on the never-ending walk to the courthouse doors, but then he glanced over his shoulder, and this time, his face was masked in regret.
But what she didn’t know was regret for what? His lies to the American people or regret for ordering the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Meeks and quite possibly the death of Keith Colburn? Or maybe he only regretted getting caught.
“Keep moving.” One of the men flanking Turner on the right grabbed his arm and ushered him while his counterpart pushed aside the onlookers and others in their path.
Turner lost his footing for a moment until he was yanked up again by the men. “For God’s sake, can you just get me inside, please?”
“That’s what we’re trying to do, sir. Just do as we ask and this will all be over soon.”
As they reached the top step, a final question was shouted from someone in the crowd. Turner peered into the mass to find the one who asked the question.
There it was again. “Were you responsible for the death of Agent Keith Colburn?”
“Let’s go.” The agent pulled him again. “You need to go inside—now.”
“I did what I did to protect the president and the country.” Turner’s body instantly pitched forward as if he’d been sucker punched in the gut. Except that when he peered at his chest, blood spilled from a hole. His eyes widened and he began wobbling on unsteady legs.
“Get down! Get down!” The guard pulled him down.
People screamed and scattered like cockroaches. Some fled, some hunkered down behind cars parked alongside the road.
“Jesus!” Will said.
He grabbed Lacy and before she knew what was happening, she was on the ground.
“Stay down!” He shielded her and quickly drew his weapon.
Lacy instinctively threw her hands over her head when another shot sounded. “Who’s shooting? Where’s it coming from?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the shrieking crowd.
“Follow me and stay low!” Hunched down, he pulled her to a safer location, hidden behind a media van. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“Wait. Will!” She watched him tear through the area in search of the shooter and all she could do was sit there. Lacy didn’t carry a weapon. She wasn’t a field agent. But too many times, she’d been in this very same spot and no longer wished to rely on her
cohorts to protect her.
“Damn it.” She peered around the van but could no longer see him. Her eyes were drawn to the innocent people cowering where they stood. Frozen in fear and easy to pick off, if that was what the shooter was going for. But as the seconds passed, it became apparent this was not random, nor was it intended for maximum carnage. There was only one target and that target was Wendell Turner. And from Lacy’s vantage point, whoever it was had accomplished the goal. Turner was still on the ground. Officers, courthouse guards and Secret Service formed a circle around him, weapons drawn. Other law enforcement had begun to corral the crowd to safer locations in and around barriers and vehicles and anything they could find to protect the people.
There were no more shots being fired. The screams began to quiet, only to be replaced by sobs from frightened reporters. Lacy emerged from behind the van, still low and still eyeing everything and everyone around her. But she could not find Will. “Where the hell did you go?” She reached for her phone and began to dial, but there was no signal. “What the…?” On surveying the crowd again, there were too few people to have caused the signal loss. And it dawned on her that the cell towers could have been jammed. No calls in or out. And that maybe this wasn’t a one-man operation.
Turner clutched his chest as his breathing became shallow.
“Keep pressure on the wound!” The Secret Service agent, weapon still at the ready, shouted the order at his counterpart. “Jesus. Where the hell is the ambulance? We need to get him inside.”
“We can’t move him!”
“We have to. He’s too exposed out here. We all are.” The man cast his eye in every direction. Toward the adjacent buildings, toward the street, into the crowd that had splintered into several smaller groups protected by police officers. “Let’s go. Now.”
One of the guards stood at Turner’s head and reached under his shoulders. “Just hold on, sir. We’re taking you inside.”
Turner moaned as the man clutched under his arms.
The other reached for his legs and another stood in the middle, one hand on Turner’s chest and another against his back.
“On the count of three,” the officer at the front began. “One, two, three.”
Turner howled in pain while they began to step toward the courthouse entrance. The agent still held his gun, ready to fire on anyone who posed a threat.
“Open the door!” one of the men called out.
Others pulled open the heavy wooden doors of the courthouse while Turner was carried inside.
The guard at Turner’s head spotted the bench and began walking toward it. “Set him down over there.”
Once they were inside, the door was secured, and the agent who’d held his weapon finally holstered it, but not before barking another order. “Secure all the entrances. And get that damn ambulance here now!”
Trevor Axell jogged to catch up with the agents who’d just brought in Turner and held out his ID. “What the hell happened out there?”
“Someone took a pot shot at Turner. Son of a bitch got one off and hit him in the chest,” the officer replied. “Goddam ambo hasn’t arrived yet and he needs to get to the hospital.”
“For God’s sake.” Axell rushed to Turner, who was still on the bench. “They’ll get you out of here ASAP.”
Turner eyed Axell. “We both know it was Yang.”
“Just relax. Save your energy.”
“I didn’t kill Camden Meeks or your friend. You have to believe me.”
Axell ignored Turner’s plea. “Just hang tight. Help is coming.” He walked back toward the officer. “Secret service?”
“Yeah. CIA?”
“Yeah. What’s it looking like out there? Is the scene secured?”
The agent retrieved his radio. “All clear?”
“Affirmative. Bystanders are safe. Officers still searching the area.”
“There’s your answer,” he said to Axell. “I told them not to bring him through the front. I fucking told them. And now look at this shit! Did they really think there wouldn’t be some crackpot out there just waiting for him? Som’ bitch was asking to be taken out. You know that as well as I do.”
“Yeah. I have to find my people and make sure they’re safe.”
“You got people here? Outside?”
“I do.”
“Good luck.” The officer’s head turned at the sound of the door opening. “Bout fucking time you got here!” He rushed toward the EMTs, leaving Axell on his own.
Axell grabbed his phone. “Caison? Where are you? Where’s Merrick?”
“I’m with Secret Service. WFO agents are on the way. We’re clearing the buildings. I told Lacy to get back to headquarters.”
“Ours?”
“She’s heading back to the shop now. Told her I’d be there as soon as possible and to get in contact with Hunter. Unless you’ve seen him?”
“No. I’ll stick around here and see what I can do. I’d be surprised if Turner makes it through this.”
“Jesus. Who did this, Axell?”
“I have my suspicions.”
The glow from the wall monitors reflected off Lacy’s face as she stood before them, captivated. Each one with a different news station that broadcast the breaking story. Several cameras had been rolling at the time of the shooting and she tried to spot what they all seemed to have missed up to that point. Who took the shot and from where?
“We need to get our hands on all the CCTV in the area.”
She whipped around at the sound of the voice she recognized. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since this morning.”
“I’m sorry. I was working on some stuff at the house Axell needed right away.” Aaron approached and stood next to her. “Any news on Turner’s condition?”
“No. Not since he got out of surgery. He’s still in critical condition last I heard.”
“Son of a bitch deserves to die.”
“Of course he does, but it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. He was supposed to stand trial. Show everyone how guilty he was. That would’ve been justice. This?” She shook her head. “Now no one will know what really happened. They won’t know what he did.”
“Only if he dies.”
“If that bullet doesn’t kill him, they’ll find another way. I just wish I knew who ‘they’ were.”
“You hear anything from the guys yet?” Aaron continued.
“Will was helping the FBI field office. His team was called out too.”
“They’re calling it a terrorist attack?”
“They’ll have to rule it out, as usual.”
“And Axell?”
“Haven’t heard from him yet. Will has, but only relayed to me that he’d be here later. That we were all to meet here later today.”
“Shit, it’s almost four.”
“I know. We’ll just have to stay put until further notice.” She turned to him. “I thought you and Trevor were meeting us at the courthouse this morning. What happened? What was so urgent you needed to work from home?”
“Axell asked me to find account info on Greiner.”
“Yeah. I know about that. That was days ago. You finally get a hit on something?”
“I did. Late last night, I was up. Couldn’t sleep. Guess I was a little wound up about the trial starting today. But anyway, I started tinkering around and found something that caught my eye.”
“What was that?”
“Seems our Mr. Greiner has a bit of a checkered past.”
“What else is new?”
“Right. But this—this was something else. Greiner appears to be an alias. I couldn’t figure out why there were no tax returns or any other financial records prior to 2010. He was basically a ghost.”
“An alias?”
“Seems so. Although I’m still trying to find more. Except that something changed in 2010 for this guy. That’s what I was working on all night and into this morning. That’s why I wasn’t at the courthouse. I wanted to ge
t a name.”
“But you didn’t?”
“No.”
“Well, it’s a decent lead. At least we know we’re dealing with an expert.”
“No question. An expert who has help covering up whatever he was into back in the day.”
“Did you mention this to Trevor?”
“Not yet. I will when he gets here.”
“Mention what?” Axell walked into the bullpen.
“There you are.” Lacy approached. “Any word on Turner? Any word on who they think took the shot?”
He raised his hands. “I know about as much as you do right now. That’s why I came here. Nothing more I can do for those guys and I needed to know where everyone was at.” He looked around. “Where’s Caison? I thought he’d be here by now.”
“Last I heard, he was still helping WFO on the search.”
“Figures.”
“Who do you think did this, Trevor?” Lacy continued.
“I wish I knew. We can speculate, but there’s not much point in that.”
“I’d like to request CCTV footage from the area,” Aaron said.
“You and everyone else. FBI’s got priority on this one. Caison can probably get us copies of whatever they get. But our request will fall on deaf ears. CIA doesn’t get involved in domestic shootings. And neither does this task force.”
“Unless the shooter is an international terrorist,” Aaron added.
“We just don’t have any idea yet.”
“You sure about that?” Lacy moved in toward the screens as they continued to show on a loop the events of the morning. “You can’t tell me you don’t think this has everything to do with Yang and Dalian Company.”
“It’s a possibility. A likely possibility,” Axell replied. “And there are things we can and will do to find out what happened. We’ll just be doing it on our own.”
“So nothing new there,” Aaron replied.
“Nope.”
Lacy spotted a Breaking News banner flash on the screen. “Hang on.” She reached for the volume control and turned up the sound.
“We’ve just been informed that the former Deputy Secretary of State, Wendell Turner, has died as a result of the gunshot wound he sustained this morning while arriving at the courthouse for his trial. Mr. Turner, if you’ll recall, was to be tried for Treason against the United States. A laborious and often difficult to prove charge that could have seen Turner suffer the death penalty, but likely would have resulted in life imprisonment. Wendell Turner was 53 years old and is survived by his wife and two children.”
