by Robin Mahle
“Damn it,” Lacy began. “I’m not the only one who thinks it was Yang, am I? He made sure Turner kept his mouth shut. What are we going to do about this?”
“What do you think we should do?” Axell asked.
She looked at Aaron. “You found out that Greiner was a ghost prior to 2010. We know he worked for SynDyn at least in 2015. And now he’s what, a consultant for Dalian?” She returned her sights to Axell. “You said he’s been seen with Yang on too many occasions. It could’ve been him. This guy arrives pretty much out of nowhere and now Turner’s dead? Trevor, we have to find out who he is now. If Yang’s willing to go to the trouble of killing a former government official in front of the country, what else do you think he’s capable of? You know, all this time, I thought it was Jian we needed to worry about. But for all we know, Jian was one of Yang’s pawns too. And if that’s the case and Yang’s running this show, then we need to go after him hard.”
Axell’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. “Axell here. Yeah. We’re all here. What’s going on?”
Lacy and Aaron watched as Axell listened and nodded.
“They did? Where?”
Lacy drew near and whispered to Axell, “What’s going on?”
He raised his index finger and continued the conversation. “Get here when you can. We’ve got plenty to keep us busy right now. Hunter got some new intel on our friend Greiner. We’ll dig into that until you get back. Keep me informed of any new developments.” He ended the call.
“Well?” Lacy asked.
“Caison said they found where the shot came from. It was a building across the street. It wasn’t a sniper-quality shot, but it was someone with at least medium-range skill.”
“No weapon found?”
“No. It was a professional hit, as we probably already figured. Except for one thing.” He looked at Aaron and Lacy. “Caison said they think they caught him on surveillance footage.”
“Who was it?”
“No positive ID yet. They’re running it through the system now. The guy was wearing a ball cap, overcoat, but that’s all they’ve got right now until they can get computer forensics on it.”
“That’s something positive out of this shit day,” Aaron replied.
“It is. But until they know more, we’ll keep moving forward on our end. Hunter, let’s keep looking for signs of Greiner before 2010.”
Chapter 7
The mountainous desert region of the Xinjiang province was located in the far northwest of China. With borders alongside Russia, Pakistan, India, and others, it had more in common with its Middle Eastern neighbors than its own country. And had for centuries, remained largely autonomous, until recently.
As Shen Yang walked along the streets of the impoverished area which had been the source of unrest in recent years, he began to miss his home. Having moved to Beijing in 2005, still a young man with notions of wealth and greatness, Yang soon became entrenched in the society of the Han Chinese and left behind his roots based in the Muslim faith as a Uyghur. He changed his name and assimilated, becoming what he had desired—a wealthy businessman with ties to the government that had allowed him to become what he was today. But as he observed what he considered the “ethnic cleansing” of his people, Yang grew resentful and sought out those who he knew well in his youth; those who had also grown tired of the persecution they’d faced day after day.
The Communist Party of China was atheist and ruled in such a manner. However, with ten million plus Muslim in the Xinjiang region alone, things had begun to change after the terror attacks in America. The Chinese government used those attacks as justification to crack down on what they saw as a growing extremist problem in the area.
And today as Yang again traveled through Kashgar, a part of the famed and ancient Silk Road, he noticed the dramatic changes the Party had already implemented and it sickened him. Mosques had been barred from broadcasting the call to prayer. Now they broadcasted the Party’s national anthem. And as he walked the streets, he noticed the banners hailing the Party. The Uyghurs were being wiped out, little by little, day by day. Though he’d been in America for the past five years, running the Dalian Company and minding the call of the Party, it now served a higher purpose. The reason Yang was so fortunate and had the ear of the Ministry and powerful businessmen around the world was to bring his people the religious freedom they once had and continue the separatist movement that had already started. Yang, along with others in the Movement, wanted an independent Xinjiang. The Beijing attacks just prior to the Olympics were organized by the Movement and was the first time he’d seen their capabilities. Several recent attacks on the police and others were also a result of the Movement. Yang believed such attacks were necessary to revolt against this ethnic cleansing the Party had invoked, deeming it as containing the spread of extremism.
Religious restraints were being defended by the government, but in doing so, they were creating an even greater extremist movement. And Yang was now entrenched in it.
He knocked on the door of a modest home inside a community that had seen recent economic investment. And as Yang saw it, the Chinese government’s handouts and subsidies were yet another way it had exerted control over the people. Lift them from poverty and they would become loyal.
“My friend.” A man of similar age smiled and greeted Yang with open arms and continued to speak in their native Turkic language. “Please come inside where it is warm.”
Yang followed the man inside and guilt swept through him, for his life was so much better. His home was filled with grandeur. This was the home of a poor man who clung on to his faith in any way he could, regardless of those who would attempt to steal it from him.
“I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to return, Mehmut. Especially after the success of our last efforts at the train station.”
“You are very busy in the US, no doubt.” He patted Yang on the shoulder. “You are here now and that is what matters. And you do look well, my friend.”
Yang bowed his head. “As do you. So tell me, when will the others arrive? I am anxious to get started. I can’t stay long.”
Aaron stared at the screen. “Hey, Lace? Come take a look at this.” He turned to her while she stepped closer.
“What is it?” She placed her hands on the back of his chair and leaned over his shoulder.
“SynDyn. I was able to retrieve government records listing its subcontractors. Most of that’s public info anyway, but these guys had clearance. TS clearance.”
“What were they doing that gave them Top Secret clearance?”
“IT work for the Pentagon. Or at least, a division of the Pentagon.”
“Okay. What does this mean for us?”
“Well, take a look here. I’ve pulled the contract. Whose signature does that look like to you?”
She leaned closer and noted the pen scrawl across the bottom. “Is that…? Does that say Matthew Greiner?”
“Looks like it to me.”
“This was what, 2014?” She leaned back and studied the image. “So he’d been going by the name Greiner at this point. Meaning he already had all the background info he needed.”
“Right. Social, prints, previous employment,” Aaron added. “All the things required to get clearance. Including a personal history.”
“Only back until 2010, by our account. Makes me wonder how he got the clearance if his history only went back that far.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. He either had it…”
“…Or it was erased. Can we get our hands on any of what you just found?” Axell walked into their conversation. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Heard you talking.”
“That would depend on what strings you could pull for us, I imagine,” Aaron replied. “It’s not something I think I could dig up. Not through approved channels, anyway.”
“Since when are you worried about approved channels?” he asked.
“Since I nearly got thrown in jail a few months ago.”
Axel
l smiled. “Right. I think I can get us more on him. Good work, Hunter. You two should go home. It’s getting late. We’ll reconvene tomorrow.”
“I’ve got a meeting in the morning. It’ll have to be after that.”
“Whatever you have to do, Merrick. Just get here when you can.” Axell returned to his office and closed the door.
She eyed Aaron. “Something’s off with him. It isn’t just me, is it?”
“No. Something’s off. And I think it has to do with this guy.” He pointed to the monitor.
“Should we be concerned?”
“Probably.”
She lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Does it bother you that we don’t know where Trevor was this morning when the shooting happened?”
Aaron whipped his head back. “What?”
“Shhh. I’m just saying, he’s been quiet about his whereabouts. You don’t think…”
“No. I don’t. And neither should you. Look, I know how much he hated Turner. We all hated him, but Trevor’s not a murderer. Even after losing Colburn and his old boss. I just don’t think it’s something he’s capable of doing. He knows what’s right and wrong.”
“We all know. But how many times in the past year have both of us—all of us—teetered on the edge of that line? You do remember Sajwani? How much can one person take before dipping a toe in those waters?”
Lacy made her way to the car and was ready to head home for the night. But as she started up the engine, Will pulled alongside her. She rolled down her window as he stepped out. “Hey. Didn’t think I’d see you today. How’d it go?”
“You heard Turner died, right?” He leaned over her door.
“Got what he deserved in the end.”
“He did. Still. It shouldn’t have gone down like that. He should’ve faced trial.”
“They weren’t going to get him on the murders. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s what he should’ve been charged with. And getting a conviction on the treason charge? You and I both know that was going to be a tough sell. Especially in light of what happened to Drew Kendrick. He would’ve just copped some plea that he feared for his life or some bullshit like that.”
“You’re probably right, but now we’ll never know. Sorry, I don’t want to keep you. We can catch up tomorrow. I need to talk to Axell anyway.”
“You told Trevor they found surveillance footage. Any idea who the shooter was or if he acted alone? I lost my cell signal right after the shooting. I think it was intentional.”
“I don’t know if they’ll get a positive ID. And, the signal, well, that could’ve been a flood of emergency calls. But whoever it was knew there were cameras and kept himself well hidden.”
“Sounds about right. No one’s going to make it easy on us.”
He regarded her with concern. “What happened today…”
“I’m fine, if that’s what you’re worried about. It seems like this has become our new normal.”
“No. It’s not that. I know you can handle yourself—and you did. Which was why I didn’t hesitate to take care of business on my own. I knew you would be fine.”
“Then what?”
“Look, I would never even suggest this if it hadn’t been odd that Axell wasn’t with us this morning, like he said he was going to be.”
Lacy’s expression fell.
“It’s just. Well, looking at that surveillance. I mean, shit, I have no idea who it was, but the height, the build. He was wearing an overcoat, but still. And the demeanor.”
“You think it was Trevor?”
Will shook his head. “I hate to even think it, to be honest, but Colburn’s death, Camden Meeks’ death. We know who was really responsible.”
“Before you go any further, have you mentioned this to anyone else? Anyone at WFO or Headquarters?”
“No. Absolutely not. But I thought it was important that I talk to you about it. I could be hitting out in left field here, but it’s just something.”
“Something that keeps popping up in your head. No matter how hard you try to dismiss it.”
“Exactly.”
She was reluctant to continue, but this was Will. And he could be trusted with anything, even this. “The idea had occurred to me. And I did mention it to Aaron.”
“What did he say?”
“No way in hell, basically.”
“Which is probably what I would’ve said, were it not so damn coincidental.”
“What do we about this, Will? Do we confront him? Ask him straight out?”
“That’s probably what we should do. He’s our boss. He answers to Mobley and Director Handley.”
“Who happen to also answer to the president.”
“And there’s that.” He paused. “If he did, it changes things, Lacy.”
“I know it does. But, maybe we should talk to him. He’s first and foremost our friend. We owe him that much. And if we’re wrong, then we’ll apologize.”
“And if we’re right?”
“With everything we’ve been through together, would you turn your back on him for doing something we all would have done, if given the chance? Will, let’s keep this between ourselves for a while. Keep our focus on Greiner. Let it die down a little and then we can mention it to him—maybe. Turner’s gone and there’s nothing we can do about that now. I don’t want to condemn Trevor. I’m sure there was a very good reason why he wasn’t there this morning. And I’d like to keep thinking that for just a while longer.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“There is one thing I’d like to do, though,” Lacy continued.
“What’s that?”
“Aaron uncovered more about SynDyn and Greiner earlier this evening. He found a government subcontract agreement signed by Greiner back in 2014.”
“Meaning he’s been using this cover for a while.”
“Seems like it. The contract was for some IT work at the Pentagon. Which stands to reason, given that’s what they did. I guess what I’m saying is that do you think Fraser could do us another favor?”
“I’m sure he would.” He appeared to realize what she was about to ask. “You want me to ask how Greiner got the clearance?”
“I think we need to know who granted it. Who they interviewed. And see if any of these people—friends, family, whoever—actually exist.”
“I’ll talk to him. I think he can get that information. I can’t say for sure, but he’s already pulled rabbits out of hats for us. He’ll do it again with good reason.”
“We need more history on Greiner, or whatever his name is. When he got involved with Dalian, who made the introductions. Whatever we can get so we can figure out who we’re actually dealing with here.”
Will nodded. “Sounds good. I’d better go in.” He tapped on the ledge of the door. “Drive safe.”
Chapter 8
In a flurry of snow, Matthew Greiner walked alone through the parking lot of the Dalian offices. Light from a lamp post captured tiny flakes whirling and landing on his Mercedes, dusting it like confectioner’s sugar. And in this beam of light, another item sparked his attention. A note tucked beneath his windshield wiper. He pulled it out from beneath the blade and double-checked the lot. He was alone with only a few other cars dotting the area.
Greiner slipped into the driver’s seat of his car and keyed the ignition. A blast of cold air gushed through the vents until the engine warmed. On the note were the cryptic words “Cairo. 2001. Meet at The Office tonight.” The handwriting didn’t trigger a clue, but this was someone who knew him well enough to know the places he frequented. And who knew about Cairo, a time and place he’d tried to put in his rear view.
In the late hour, he questioned whether this individual would still be waiting. But the more he considered the idea, the more he realized it was likely this person knew the moment he stepped out of the building. The note wasn’t wet, as though it had only just been placed. He was being watched, and while this was to be expected, per the agreement he made months ago,
this watcher was someone new in the equation.
Within minutes, he’d arrived and parked across the street from the bar, ironically named The Office. He eyed the few passersby wandering the streets as it came upon midnight. Greiner placed his gun in the waistband of his pants and stepped out, pulling his coat around him. And with his head down, rubbing his hands together, he made his way over. The dive bar was located in a sketchy part of town, and he preferred the people there as opposed to those in the downtown D.C. bars. He came here when he wasn’t looking to get laid, which was rare in any event. But the people here were real and they didn’t give two shits about him. He liked that. No one cared. No one asked questions.
The bar was near empty as he opened the door and hesitated a moment before committing to enter. In his line of work, it was that hesitation that could get you killed. But here in D.C., even in a place like this, he figured the one who left the note was intelligence and wasn’t likely to whip out a gun and start blowing holes in him. That was his expectation anyway.
“What can I get you?”
Greiner pulled up a stool. “Blue Moon, thanks.”
The bartender placed the bottle in front of him. “Six fifty.”
“I got this one.” Axell placed a twenty on the bar top. “And I’ll have a whiskey neat.”
This was the guy. He even knew what he liked to drink. Still, Greiner couldn’t place him, though his wheels spun with his best efforts. “Thanks.”
“No problem. Appreciate you meeting me.”
“Sorry, but do we know each other?”
