The Secret Target

by Dean Atwood

  Whom did she trust?

  Chapter 11

  U nlike his visit earlier in the day, Quinton entered the JUIAF through the front gate. The armed guard looked at him like a passport agent at airport immigration does to illicit a telltale nervous response. Quinton remained calm while the guard looked at his face and then at the photo on the FBI badge.

  “You’re clear to enter, Agent Target,” he said. “Please, go to the checkpoint in front of the building for further instructions.”

  “Will I be able to drive to the parking lot in the back?”

  “No sir, it’s closed while the crime scene is being investigated. We’re on full lockdown. Nobody is allowed in or out without the commander’s prior approval. You’re on the approved list, which is why I’m letting you in. There are soldiers guarding the front of the building. They’ll tell you where to park.”

  Quinton crawled up the driveway at the posted 15 MPH speed limit. He counted ten soldiers with full gear, stationed at various points along the front of the facility. An army helicopter was hovering above the parking lot. It looked like they were expecting a full-scale attack by a foreign contingent. A soldier held up his hand to signal QT to stop. He checked the license plate and walked around the vehicle. An uneasy feeling hit Quinton. What if they had surveillance video of his vehicle while he was spying on Jeremy and Blaire? Or, what if there was a camera at the Hydraulic Road intersection that captured him spinning out the white SUV?

  After completing his circle around the SUV, the soldier leaned down and tapped on QT’s window. Quinton responded by rolling it down.

  “Park in the reserved parking space, over there — next to the blue Chevy — and leave your keys in the vehicle, in case we need to move it.”

  “OK,” QT said, feeling relieved that his SUV hadn’t been connected to the case — at least not yet.

  “Somebody will meet you inside to assist you.”

  Greeting him in the lobby was a woman, whose impeccably applied makeup made it difficult for Quinton to pinpoint her exact age. He guessed she was somewhere between thirty-five and forty-five. She was dressed professionally in a pair of navy blue slacks with a red blouse.

  Quinton showed her his FBI badge. She smiled and said, “We’ve been expecting you. Please follow me to the commander’s office.”

  Assuming she wasn’t being literal when she said to follow her, QT walked beside her down the hallway to an elevator which took them to the fourth floor. Once there, she led him to the corner office, which had a nameplate on the door that said, Colonel Pricilla Smithers, Commander of JUIAF.

  Quinton’s guide knocked on the door several times before a woman’s authoritative voice said, “Enter.”

  The guide complied by opening the door for Quinton and motioning for him to go inside. When he moved through the doorway, she left without saying a word.

  The woman in charge rose from her office chair and said in a tone that sounded like an order, “Sit down.” After he was seated, she sat down.

  Apparently, she felt the nameplate on the door was introduction enough because she didn’t verbalize it. In the short amount of time she’d been standing, Quinton observed she was around 6 feet tall, had a plain face with tiny ears that were exposed below her pixie haircut, and had a runner’s physique replete with a flat chest.

  “Let me get right down to business, Agent Target.”

  “Please, do. That’s why I’m here.”

  “In all honesty, I don’t think the FBI should be taking the lead in this case. The victim was here as part of an US Army task force and he was shot while at the JUIAF, which is technically a US Army base.”

  “Sorry you feel that way Colonel, but that decision is above both of our paygrades. My boss has already informed me that I’m to lead the investigation. I’d appreciate it if you’d point me in the direction of the crime scene. I’m anxious to get started.”

  The colonel frowned. It was obvious she was unaccustomed to being challenged, especially by somebody she considered to be beneath her in rank.

  “I’ve spoken to Special Agent McCoy. Before I have you taken to him I want to make a few things perfectly clear.”

  “By all means, make yourself clear, it will speed things up. I’m a little slow on the uptake when things are unclear.”

  It was obvious by her expression she didn’t find his flippant comment amusing.

  “One: even though the FBI has been given the lead, it has been agreed that an army counterintelligence agent will be assigned to the investigation to work with you.”

  “Good, I can use the help.”

  “Two: the victim was a member of a task force which was formed to address a very specific threat to our national security. My approval will be required before the answers are given to any questions that involve the revelation of classified information.”

  “Let me be clear, Colonel Smithers, I have a top-secret security clearance. I understand and will respect national security concerns. But, I won’t tolerate stonewalling or internal cover-ups while I’m doing my investigation. I expect your full cooperation.”

  The colonel’s face reddened, but she maintained her calm exterior.

  “And C: I expect a periodic status briefing from you and the assigned army counterintelligence agent. I don’t want to be surprised. I need to be up-to-date on all significant findings.”

  “You’re the commanding officer. I’d expect you’d want to be apprised of anything that could affect the JUIAF or the task force.”

  “Good, I’m glad I was clear.”

  “Yes, you were very clear … except, for the record, your points would have been clearer if you labeled them One, Two, Three or A, B, C instead of One, Two, C … Not a big problem, but something for you to consider in the future.”

  If her eyes could shoot bullets, Quinton would have been dead. After holding her stare long enough to show her contempt for his impertinent critique, she picked up the phone and pushed a button to speed-dial a number.

  “Agent Target is ready. He’ll meet you by the elevator.” She hung up without saying goodbye.

  “Agent Daphne O’Connor is the counterintelligence agent I’ve assigned to work with you. Take the elevator to the ground floor. She’ll meet you there. You’re dismissed.”

  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you too, Colonel. I look forward to chatting with you again.”

  Chapter 12

  B laire didn’t consider herself to be a conceited person. Outwardly, she made it a point to appear unassuming. But, since she’d never met a man who could resist her, she was confident she could attract any man she desired. In her mind, this wasn’t conceit, it was recognition of a natural gift she had. She didn’t really think it was possible for QT to break up with her or harm her. The power to end their romance was with her, alone. The decision to call QT came down to one thing — did she think he still found her irresistible or not? She decided the answer was, yes.

  She picked up the hotel phone and dialed.

  QT answered with his usual straight forward greeting, “Agent Target.”

  “It’s me,” she said.

  “BS, I was getting worried. Are you alright?”

  “I’m OK,” she said in her vulnerable female voice, which she used effectively to generate sympathy from men.

  “Are you at Wintergreen?”

  “Yes, I’m in the room you reserved.”

  “Good. Did you run into any problems getting there?”

  “I didn’t see anybody following me after I hit the route 29 bypass. Why aren’t you here with me, yet?”

  “I ran into complications.”

  “What complications? Where’s the guy who was chasing me?”

  “I spun him out at the Hydraulic Road intersection, and he crashed into a couple of cars. I don’t know whether he was still there when the police arrived, or he left the scene of the accident before they got there.”

  “That’s not very reassuring. When will you be here?”

  �
��I’m not sure … I’ve been assigned as the lead in the murder investigation. I just finished talking with the Commander of JUIAF and I’m going to the crime scene as soon as you and I hang up.”

  “Did the Commander mention anything about me being with Jeremy when he was shot?”

  “No, she didn’t. We didn’t exactly hit it off. She doesn’t want the FBI involved.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. She has a reputation as being a hard ass.”

  “When Clinton McCoy assigned the case to me, he told me somebody saw you leave the building with that FBI agent. The NSA is trying to track you down. Did you dispose of your phone?”

  “I didn’t dispose of it, but I took out the battery to temporarily disable it. I’ve been considering whether I should call the NSA or DIA to let them know I’m OK.”

  “Why don’t you let me start my investigation first? I’ll let my boss know you’re safe and in hiding until we’re satisfied you’re no longer in danger. He can communicate that to the NSA and Commander Smithers.”

  “It isn’t going to take long for somebody to trace a reservation at Wintergreen made in your name.”

  “Let’s hope that whoever is trying to find you doesn’t know about our connection. Did you bring your pistol?”

  “It’s in my overnight bag. Why, do you think I’ll need it?”

  “Probably not, but it won’t hurt to be ready to defend yourself.”

  “I’m a good shot on the firing range, but I’ve never had to shoot at anyone.”

  “When it comes down to it, I’m betting you’ll do what you have to do to survive.”

  “I hope I don’t have to find out.”

  “I need you to tell me about your involvement with the task force.”

  “The task force project is classified. I’m not supposed to discuss it with anyone, not even you.”

  “Things have changed. I’m now conducting a murder investigation. If I’m going to figure out who did this, I’ll need to know everything about the task force and the project you’ve been working on. Who’s the task force leader?”

  “DIA Special Agent John Warren. Getting information out of him won’t be easy.”

  “I won’t press you right now, but you better think very careful about the dangers of keeping me in the dark about your project. There’s still a hired killer out there looking for you, and we don’t know who sent him.”

  “I hear you. Talk to Warren first to see whether he’ll release me from my secrecy obligation. Ask me again after you talk with him.”

  “Do you want to tell me what was going on between Jeremy and you or is that classified, too?”

  “Why were you spying on me?”

  “That’s a question, not an answer.”

  “It’s not what you think. There was nothing going on between Jeremy and me — at least not in the way you’re implying.”

  “What would you think, if you saw me walking with my arm around a woman’s waist and she had her arm around me?”

  “It was nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that. I saw the way you were looking at him.”

  “You weren’t close enough to see the way I was looking at him. You’re imagining it.”

  “So, I’m imagining things have been strained between us since you started working on this project a few weeks ago?”

  “I’ll admit, I’ve been distracted and more tired than usual lately, but I wouldn’t call our time together early this morning, strained, would you? I’d call it hotter than ever.”

  Quinton paused before he said, “Yes, it was hot. I’m not questioning your desirability, only your fidelity.”

  “I understand your suspicions. There was something going on, but it had nothing to do with me being unfaithful. I was trying to earn his trust by flirting with him. I shouldn’t tell you this, but it was part of my assignment. Jeremy was under investigation by the DIA. That’s all I can tell you about it. Maybe, Special Agent Warren will brief you on it when you talk with him.”

  “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now. I thought we had something special going. I hope I wasn’t wrong.”

  Blaire started sniffling. “I love you, QT. You have to know that.”

  “I’ve got to go now to meet an army counterintelligence agent who’s waiting for me downstairs to take me to the crime scene. We’ll talk later.”

  “Can you call me after you talk to Warren?”

  “I’ll try to keep you up-to-date, but I’m going to be busy with the investigation.”

  “You’re coming to Wintergreen tonight, right?”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “Please, don’t be angry with me. I promise when you get here, I’ll remove any doubt about my interest in anybody except for you. This morning will seem like a warm-up in comparison.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” QT said. “See you later.”

  Blaire hung up the phone and wiped the crocodile tears from the corners of her eyes. Men are so easy to manipulate. Get them turned on and they forget about everything else. Her tears weren’t real, but her emotions weren’t entirely insincere. She had a good thing going with QT and was upset that he still had doubts about her; however, she wasn’t sorry about flirting with Jeremy. She didn’t take personal responsibility for that. Instead, she blamed it on her assignment. After all, she’d been ordered to get close to Jeremy to investigate his potential illegal activities.

  It had started innocently enough, yesterday. NSA Cyber Analyst Karen Williams had tracked down the company that had installed the security system at the Upshaw estate. Jeremy and she had posed as service technicians. They’d arrived in one of the company’s service vans. It had been a rush for her, coming face to face with Upshaw’s bodyguards and convincing them that they were there to make repairs. They’d used the ruse to allow Blaire to install replacement identity verification software that had been coded to recognize Jeremy and her as valid entrants and created a backdoor, which Karen could use to tap into the security system. The plan was to return in a day or two, when the CEO was gone, and install the NSA’s electronic devices.

  After they’d finished the installation, they’d driven back to the security company parking lot, where they’d left Blaire’s car. They’d been standing together by the back door of the van. Blaire had made a comment that deceiving their way past the security guards was a turn-on. Without warning, Jeremy kissed her, and she hadn’t pulled away. They’d opened the backdoor and crawled inside, where they’d loosened their clothes and fondled each other. It was intense, but hadn’t lasted long. It was true, he’d released, but although she was aroused, she’d faked her ending of their romp. She rationalized that she hadn’t really cheated on QT because Jeremy and she hadn’t gone all the way, and she hadn’t climaxed. It was a weak argument, much like Bill Clinton’s explanation of his encounters with Monica Lewinsky, but she’d convinced herself she could honestly answer, “No” to the question, “Did you ever have sex with that man, Jeremy Glover?”

  After they were done, they’d gotten out and closed the door. Blaire had buttoned her blouse and Jeremy had buckled his belt prior to returning to Blaire’s car. They’d driven to Charlottesville without talking about it. Blaire had turned on the radio to fill the silence. Jeremy hadn’t attempted to kiss her when she’d dropped him off, but when he’d looked back at her before entering the hotel, he had one of those cocky, self-satisfied looks on his face that men get when they’ve made a conquest of a woman.

  Blaire didn’t plan to ever admit to QT what had happened. She knew how important loyalty was to him. Their relationship could survive anything, except betrayal. Suspicion wasn’t the same as knowing. QT would never be able to prove she was unfaithful. She admitted to herself that she wasn’t totally innocent, but she had stopped before going all the way. After all, if she’d been a virgin before the hookup with Jeremy, she’d still be a virgin afterward. The suspicion would linger for a while, but she knew exactly what to do to make QT forget about it.


  Chapter 13

  W hen the elevator door opened on the first floor, the woman who had escorted Quinton to Colonel Smithers office was facing him.

  He walked out of the elevator and said, “Army Counterintelligence Agent O’Connor, I presume.”

  “That’s right, but you can call me Daphne.”

  “OK, Daphne, you can call me QT.”

  “How’d your meeting go with Colonel Smithers?”

  “It was short and uninformative.”

  “The colonel is a woman of few words,” Daphne said.

  “And, few manners.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me.”

  The two of them started walking down the hall without either mentioning where they were going.

  “What do you know about the murder?” QT said.

  “Not much. The victim is FBI Agent Jeremy Glover, age 32, working out of the Richmond Field Office. I haven’t been to the crime scene, yet.”

  QT and Daphne were greeted at the exit by a soldier, who let them pass after they showed him their badges. Like the front of the building, there were soldiers in full battle gear stationed along the back of the building. It seemed like a bit of an overkill to Quinton, but in today’s world of terrorism, the extra precautions were understandable.

  As Quinton and Daphne walked toward him, FBI Special Agent McCoy said, “It’s about time you got here.”

  “Sorry, it took so long, boss. I had to meet with the colonel and resist her attempt to give me marching orders.”

  “The FBI is leading this effort. I told her that.”

  “Have you met Daphne?”

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  “Army Counterintelligence Agent, Daphne O’Connor at you service,” she said.

  “Ah yes, Colonel Smithers said she’d name someone to represent the army in the investigation. You were told, you’re here in a support role, right?”

  “I try to stay out of politics,” she said. “I’m here to help in any way I can to get to the bottom of the murder.”