Line of Fire

by R. J. Patterson

  “Are you just guessing right now?”

  “Based on all these loose ties we have between Wellington and Vogle, it’s an educated guess. I bet he’s after something at Wellington’s home.”

  “What? Guns? Ammo? Blackmail material?”

  Black shrugged. “I have no idea, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Sperryville, Virginia

  J.D. BLUNT KICKED his gun over but held tight to his phone. With so many questions still remaining, Blunt was hoping to get a few answers in case he managed to survive his encounter with a wanted man. Blunt’s familiarity with Vogle was also likely to confuse Besserman, whose gaze bounced back and forth between Blunt and Vogle.

  “Meet one of your agency’s finest,” Blunt said, gesturing toward Vogle.

  Besserman scowled and nodded toward Vogle. “You know this man?”

  “I’m familiar with who he is,” Blunt said. “And you should be too since he’s about to kill us.”

  “What are you not telling me, J.D.?”

  Vogle’s steely gaze met Blunt’s. “I’m a little disappointed in you, Senator Blunt.”

  Blunt grunted and shrugged. “That’s why I left politics. I was tired of disappointing everyone.”

  “And this is why I’m going to kill you . . . after you hand me your phone.”

  Blunt took a step back and wagged his index finger at Vogle. “You honestly think I’m just going to give this to you? And here I was thinking you were the professional.”

  Vogle held his hand out. “I will kill you if you don’t give it to me right now.”

  “So, kill me. I know that if you were really going to do so, you would’ve done it by now,” Blunt said. “Despite your tough guy act while waving your weapon at me, I know that you’ll never see the fruit of your labor, the kind you and Wellington dreamed about.”

  “I don’t want to waste a bullet on you, but I will if you insist on defying me,” Vogle said, his nostrils flaring.

  “I’ll never comply, so you come over here and take it right now or else I’m going to stop believing you.”

  In an instant, Vogle lunged at Blunt, embracing him and taking him to the ground. Seconds later, Vogle bounced back to his feet, holding the device in the air triumphantly.

  “Believe me now?” Vogle asked with a sneer.

  Blunt groaned as he staggered to his feet. Vogle placed the barrel of his gun beneath Blunt’s chin and prodded him until he was standing upright.

  “Shoot me now,” Blunt said. “Makes no difference to me.”

  Vogle chuckled as he stepped back and eyed Blunt closely. “You wish I would kill you that quickly, though I’d have no problem getting away with it. The little realtor lady left for the day. She’s well on her way to a local watering hole to throw back a few drinks and regale her friends with absurd tales about her wealthy clients. And here you are. All alone with me. You’re both the real lucky ones.”

  Vogle backed up until he reached Collin then stepped over him. Vogle proceeded to kneel next to the limp body before dragging it up the stairs and out of the bunker.

  Once the two men were alone again, Besserman stared wide-eyed at Blunt. “You seem really familiar with that psychopath?”

  “I told you that he’s been on our radar for a while,” Blunt said.

  “You just mentioned him,” Besserman said. “I thought we were working together on this.”

  “We were . . . we are. There were just a few things that went sideways to put us in the mess we’re in, and I couldn’t really discuss them with you.”

  “Oh, come on, J.D. You know I have one of the highest security clearances in the entire country. You can tell me anything.”

  “Just because I can doesn’t necessarily mean I should,” Blunt said.

  “Forget it,” Besserman said. “This is a lost cause. We need to figure a way out of here.”

  “There’s only one way in or out of this place,” Blunt said, nodding toward the outside door. “You better have a way to create a diversion because I get the feeling that he will gun us down if we force his hand.”

  “Maybe we can both attack him when he comes back down here.”

  “If he comes back,” Blunt said. “I’m not sure what he’s going to do, especially with Collin.”

  “We at least need to go upstairs and see what’s out there,” Besserman said.

  Blunt nodded. “Go for it.” He hustled back into the finished room and dug through some of the files he’d found, fingering one in particular that caught his eye. Tucking the folder beneath his shirt, he got up again when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

  Besserman entered the area first, both hands raised in the air. Vogle followed, his gun jammed squarely into Besserman’s back.

  “You two didn’t think I was just going to let you walk right out of here, did you?” Vogle asked before huffing a laugh through his nose. “The agency taught me better than that, including that using a gun always complicated matter. A bullet is a piece of forensic evidence that can be traced back to you more often than not.”

  “So, you’re going to give us guns and let us shoot ourselves in the head?” Blunt asked.

  “Of course not,” Vogle said. “I’m going to let you burn to death, along with the rest of all the documents in here that could cast a poor light on Wilson Wellington. However, I must add that I’m doing this with great regret. We could’ve worked together and been a great team.”

  Blunt sighed and shook his head. “I hate to burst your bubble like this, Agent Vogle, but I would’ve never worked with the likes of you. You are a puppet, a duty-bound soldier who does whatever he’s told, completely unable to think for yourself. In fact, what you’re doing right now isn’t even your own idea. Someone told you to do all this, didn’t they?”

  Vogle locked eyes with Blunt. “You read my personnel report and you think you know all about me now, don’t you? It’d be funny if it wasn’t so sad. Adios, Mr. Blunt. And you, too, Mr. Besserman. Maybe in the afterlife you two can reminisce about how things went wrong for you both.”

  He hustled up the steps and into the daylight. Blunt went up the steps in hopes that he might be able to catch Vogle from behind and subdue him. But that didn’t happen. Both doors slammed shut just inches from Blunt’s face. He pounded on them, screaming a slew of empty threats at Vogle.

  Blunt backed down the steps in time to see a Molotov cocktail crash through the single small window to the outside and land on the couch, catching it on fire. While they frantically tried to put out the flame, Blunt put his nose in the air and sniffed.

  “What is it?” Besserman asked.

  “I already smell smoke. I wouldn’t smell it that fast unless it was coming from somewhere else.”

  “Dammit. We’re gonna die in here, aren’t we?”

  “Don’t think about that right now,” Blunt said. “Just come up the stairs with me, and let’s see if we can break the doors.”

  The two men ascended the steps and put their shoulders into the wood doors. Time after time, they attempted to break into the open as fresh air became a fleeting element. But they couldn’t develop enough power to send the doors flying open.

  After a few minutes, they both sat down on the bottom steps as they noticed the room go dark. Blunt turned and looked over his shoulder as Vogle hammered a piece of plywood over the opening, sealing the agents inside.

  “Adios, amigos,” Vogle shouted.

  The roar of an engine indicated Vogle was leaving them to die. With more smoke rolling into the room, Blunt choked on the air, going into a coughing fit and buckling onto the floor.

  CHAPTER 23

  BLACK TURNED OFF the main road and into the enclave containing Wellington’s mountain home, keeping his foot on the gas pedal. From the moment Black learned that his target was detected in Sperryville, he sensed danger. The smoke billowing in the distance confirmed it.

  “Do you think that’s Wellington’s house?” Shields ask
ed as she leaned forward in her seat.

  “Without a doubt.”

  Black tore onto the property and noticed a red Ferrari along with a truck. The smoke swirled upward over the home. He skidded to a stop and raced out toward the fire. The first thing he noticed was a body lying on the ground a few meters away from the edge of the house.

  Black rushed over to the person, who started coughing and struggling to get to his feet. Black helped the man up and ushered him further from the flames.

  “Are you all right?” Black asked.

  The man squinted and opened his eyes before shaking his head. “I don’t remember much of anything.”

  “Is there anyone else in the house?” Black asked as Shields joined him.

  “I was in the basement with two prospective buyers and then . . .”

  “And then what?” Shields asked.

  The man sighed. “I’m not sure. Something happened, but I don’t remember what.”

  “How do I get to the basement?” Black asked

  “There’s an entrance from the outside.”

  Black and Shields rushed over to the doors and found them padlocked.

  “Anybody in there?” Shields asked.

  The flames on the far side of the house raged, crackling along the collapsing roof. Black yanked on the doors, but they didn’t budge. Shields took her gun out to shoot through the lock. Black put his hand on her weapon.

  “Don’t,” Black said. “They could be right at the steps, and you’d kill them.”

  “They’re going to die soon if they aren’t already dead,” she said. “We’ve got to try something.”

  Black glanced at her leg. “Why don’t you try that first?”

  Shields sprang into action, removing her prosthetic leg and wedging it between the door and the lock. After applying enough pressure, she had all the leverage necessary to pop the lock.

  Black flung open the doors and rushed inside. At the bottom of the steps, he found Blunt and Besserman lying still.

  “Hang in there,” Black said. “We’re going to get you two out of here.”

  Black and Shields worked together to carry the men up the steps and clear of the house. Blunt rolled onto his stomach and groaned before breaking into a coughing fit.

  “Thanks,” he muttered as he looked up at Black and Shields.

  “I already called an ambulance,” Shields said.

  Blunt nodded in a gesture of appreciation.

  “What happened?” Black asked.

  “It was Vogle.”

  The other man Black had found rushed over to them, angrily pointing a finger at them. “This is your fault. You did this.”

  Black stood and slid directly in front of the man. “Why don’t you just calm down, okay? There’s a lot to sort out, including how your memory just came back.”

  “These men were snooping through my dad’s stuff, and the next thing I know the house is on fire,” he said.

  Blunt shook his head before another coughing spell hit him. “We didn’t do this.”

  “Like you hell you didn’t,” the man said.

  “You’re the one who said you’d just as soon burn the house down,” Blunt said.

  “No, I saw you taking pictures of things in my father’s basement.”

  “Well, it’s all gone now,” Blunt said, gesturing toward the flames engulfing the house. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  The man clenched his fists and seethed as he stared at Blunt.

  “Are you Wilson Wellington’s son?” Black asked.

  The man nodded. “Collin Wellington.”

  “You’re processing a lot right now,” Black said. “I suggest we let cooler heads prevail.”

  “These two assholes came here under false pretenses,” Collin said. “I was just being nice and letting them poke around because they claimed to be history buffs. I didn’t think they’d start taking pictures.”

  “Like I said, you’ve got nothing to worry about,” Blunt said. “The guy who knocked you out took our phones and the rest of the evidence is ablaze over there.”

  “Why should I believe you?” Collin asked.

  “This a pretty damn elaborate attempt at trying to fool you,” Besserman said as he stood. “We could’ve come here in the middle of the night and broken in if we were that desperate.”

  “I want to know who both of you are right now,” Collin said, pointing at Blunt and Besserman for emphasis.

  “The fire department is on its way,” Shields announced.

  “Why bother?” Collin said. “It’s too late now. But I’m not going anywhere until I get your names.”

  “They’re going to leave now,” Black said, gesturing for Shields to take Blunt and Besserman to their car. “And we’ll speak with the fire chief to let him know what happened.”

  “Who are you?” Collin asked.

  “I’m just a guy who lost his father because of what your dad ordered my dad to do,” Black said. “Just be glad the sins of the fathers aren’t being revisited upon the sons.”

  Collin lunged toward Black, who only needed a couple of moves to subdue the grieving son of Wilson Wellington. Black towered over Collin before putting a foot on his chest.

  “Nobody here wants to hurt you,” Black said as he backed off. “But if you press the issue, you’ll likely find yourself wishing you’d responded with much more kindness and grace for those two old men over there.”

  Collin hopped up and brushed away the dirt. “I guess you weren’t listening to me, because I said—”

  Black delivered a quick punch to Collin’s face, sending him sprawling backward before he stumbled and fell to the ground.

  “For the record, I was listening,” Black said as he walked away. “You just weren’t listening to me.”

  When the fire trucks roared onto the scene, Black handed his card to the captain working the fire. Black told him that they’d all be happy to speak with the authorities at some point about what happened, but they were pursuing a domestic terrorist who was responsible for the fire and needed to leave.

  Black hustled over to Shields, who stood outside their car while Blunt and Besserman sat in the backseat.

  “So, what now?” she asked. “Blunt told me it was Vogle who’s responsible for all this mess.”

  “We go catch the bastard,” Black said.

  “Good,” she said. “I’ll take the Ferrari back, and you handle the two grumpy old men.”

  “We’ll flip for it,” Black said. “I’m not going to let you drive that car without a fight.”

  Shields pulled a quarter out of her pocket and tossed the coin in the air. Black snagged the coin and slapped it on the back of his hand, keeping it hidden.

  “Heads or tails?” he asked.

  “Tails,” Shields said.

  Black cursed and tossed the coin back to her. “You win.”

  “Just like always,” she said with a wink.

  CHAPTER 24

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT ENTERED THE FIRESTORM offices just before noon and took a deep breath. Inhaling a swath of fresh air was something he’d taken for granted until the incident at Wilson Wellington’s home less than twenty-four hours earlier.

  Blunt went to the emergency room in nearby Warrenton along with Besserman just to make sure they didn’t have any serious issues from all the smoke inhalation. They were released a couple hours later and drove back to Washington with Black acting as their chauffeur. He kept the windows rolled down for the duration of the drive home.

  But while Blunt was resting in the hospital, he had a chance to ponder the case more deeply, specifically what Vogle was doing and how it tied to Wellington. Blunt also had a chance to review some of the files he’d snuck out by stuffing them inside his shirt.

  And there was one file in particular that stood out. When he showed it to Besserman, the CIA’s deputy director agreed that it was worth taking a deeper look at.

  Blunt dumped his files onto the conference room table and s
ummoned everyone into the meeting. Alex Duncan was the first one to join him. With Brady Hawk on assignment in Europe tending to another issue with a foreign diplomat, she had some extra time to contribute to the apprehension of Vogle. Shields sat down next to her before Black strode into the room. With everyone seated, Blunt began the meeting.

  “Before we get started, I must publicly say thank you to Shields and Black for their heroism yesterday,” Blunt said. “Your quick thinking saved my life.”

  “Put it on our tab,” Shields said.

  “I know that’s funny, but I can assure you that I wasn’t laughing yesterday,” Blunt said. “I was almost certain I was going to die. But my biggest fear would be that I’d be clutching one of the clues that could help you stop Vogle before his mission was complete.”

  Black shifted in his chair. “So, you know what Vogle’s end game is now?”

  Blunt sucked a long breath through his teeth. “Not exactly. But I talked this over with Besserman yesterday, and we believe that some of this movement has to do with a man named Gary Newton.”

  “Why does that name sound so familiar?” Alex asked.

  “Newton has testified before congress numerous times, so he’s been in the news recently. Currently, he’s serving as the director over the DEA’s Office of National Security Intelligence. However, his real renown came while he was serving in Afghanistan. He risked his life one day when he spotted a teenaged girl wearing a suicide vest in a Kabul marketplace crawling with shoppers. He whisked her into an alleyway and managed to disarm the bomb before it was detonated, saving her and hundreds of other people.”

  “Yes,” Shields said as she nodded, “I remember now. That story was all over the place.”

  Blunt stood and paced around the table. “A few weeks before Wellington’s death, President Michaels announced that he would award Newton with the Medal of Honor for his heroics in Afghanistan. After all these years, Newton was finally going to be recognized for what he did.”

  “I’m not seeing the link to Wellington,” Black said.

  “Hang with me,” Blunt said. “I’m getting there. Now, rewind back to Wellington’s time in the Air Force in Afghanistan. Both Wellington and Newton were serving there at the same time. And while it was never released publicly, Besserman and I both knew that Newton was the reason Wellington’s MH-Allectus program was shuttered. Apparently, Newton complained to some top brass at the Pentagon about drastic changes in Wellington’s behavior that compromised his ability to direct missions. That, combined with some other questionable practices involved in training sleeper agents, spelled the end of Wellington’s pet project.”