The Secret Target

by Dean Atwood

  “You deserve an Oscar. It was very convincing,” he said sarcastically. “What about the part after you got out of the van, where you were buttoning your blouse, and he was pulling up his pants. Are you trying to tell me nothing happened inside the van?”

  Blaire started to cry. “I didn’t know what to do after it had gone as far as it had. I was afraid if I stopped it completely, he’d realize I was playing him. Since I couldn’t stop, I did the next best thing.”

  “The next best thing was having sex with him?”

  “We didn’t have sex,” she said adamantly. “I made sure he finished before it got that far.”

  “You sound like you’re still in high school. Are you saying you didn’t cheat on me because you stopped at third base?”

  “No, I’m saying I didn’t really cheat because I took no pleasure in it, and we didn’t go all the way. I’m not saying I’m totally innocent, but I’m not completely guilty either. There were extenuating circumstances.”

  “I wish you’d been honest and told me as soon as Warren proposed that you spy on Jeremy.”

  Blaire put her face in her hands and sniffled. You’re right, I should’ve told you about it, and I never should’ve agreed to do it. Warren had no right to ask me. I see that clearly now.”

  “How can I ever trust you again?”

  Blaire got up and wrapped her arms around him. He tried hard not to reciprocate, but it was a losing battle. He relented and hugged her back, convincing himself he was doing it out of sympathy, not because he forgave her.

  “I love you QT. Please give me a second chance.”

  “I need time to think,” he said.

  They both heard the door start to open and withdrew from their embrace. Blaire was sitting down when Daphne entered.

  “Did you start without me?” Daphne asked.

  “Not really,” Quinton said. “You two know each other, don’t you?”

  “We’ve met,” Daphne said.

  “Good to see you,” Blaire replied.

  After they were all settled in their chairs, Quinton began the questioning. “Blaire, why don’t you start by telling us where you and Jeremy were going before the shooting occurred.”

  “We were on our way to lunch.”

  “Which restaurant were you going to?”

  “We hadn’t decided.”

  “Did you go out together often?”

  “Not every day, but sometimes. We’d finished a meeting together, he asked me to join him, so I did.”

  Daphne said, “In the parking lot surveillance videos, we saw Jeremy put his arm around you. Were you two intimately involved.” Quinton gave Daphne a dirty look to express his disapproval of her directness.

  Blaire bristled and said, “We were coworkers, nothing more.”

  “You acted friendlier to each other than most coworkers do.”

  “Jeremy was a touchy-feely guy. I wasn’t offended by it. It’s the way he was.”

  “From my perspective, it didn’t appear to be one-sided. You responded by putting your arm around him.”

  “It was nothing. Acquaintances from my generation are more demonstrative than yours. I suppose that’s why, from your perspective, you’d see intimacy where there was none.”

  Daphne smiled at the jab about their age difference. “Perhaps, you’re right. You received a phone call in the parking lot. Can you tell us who called you?”

  “It was my mom,” she said without hesitation.

  “My mom died when I was twelve,” Daphne said. “It must be nice to have someone to confide in. What’d you talk about?”

  “Nothing significant. I told her I was on my way to lunch and I’d call her later.”

  “Let’s discuss the shooting,” Quinton said. “Blaire, you went to the ground moments before Jeremy was shot. Did you see the shooter and duck?”

  “No, I dropped my car keys. My clumsiness probably saved my life.”

  “Can you tell us where the shots were fired from?”

  “From the hill beyond the fence, near the subdivision.”

  “Did you see anything that could lead us to the shooter?”

  “There were two SUVs, a gray one and a white one.”

  “That agrees with the witness who saw the same vehicles from the second floor of the JUIAF,” Daphne said. “Did the SUVs look familiar?”

  “Half the vehicles in Charlottesville are SUVs, and there aren’t that many color variations, so it could’ve been anybody.”

  “Blaire’s right,” Quinton said. “Even I have a gray SUV.”

  “I noticed,” Daphne said. “Were there shots fired from both SUVs?”

  “I can’t say for certain. All the shots sounded the same to me.”

  “What signaled you that it was safe to get out from under your car?

  “I saw the white SUV leave. I figured it was as safe as it was going to get.”

  “Why’d you leave the JUIAF?” Daphne asked.

  “I don’t know. I panicked. I wanted to get as far away as possible.”

  “Where were you all day?”

  “I’d rather not answer that question.”

  “Why?” Daphne said.

  “Nobody could find me, not even the intelligence agencies. I might need a safe place to go again, sometime. If I tell you, every agency will have the information.”

  “What made you decide to return to the JUIAF last night.” Quinton asked.

  “I called Special Agent Warren, and he convinced me to return.”

  “Do you have any idea what the motive for the shooting was?”

  “It could have something to do with the Interagency task force I’m on.”

  “I know about Project Typhon and its purpose,” Quinton said. “Can you tell me specifically what Jeremy and your responsibilities were for the project?”

  Blaire hesitated. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been instructed by Colonel Smithers and Special Agent Warren not to comment on it.” Quinton shook his head in frustration, although he didn’t expect an answer from Blaire while Daphne was present.

  “Is there anything you can tell us that could lead us to whoever is behind Jeremy’s death and the attack on you?”

  “No, I don’t have the slightest idea who did it or why.”

  “After what you’ve been through, I’m sorry we’ve had to interrogate you like this, but the threat is still there. If you think of anything that could help us, don’t hesitate to contact Daphne or me.”

  “I will. Thank you, Agent Target.”

  “Do you have any other questions, Daphne?” Quinton asked.

  “Only one. Blaire, can you explain to me why you have listed as your home address the same residence as Quinton Target?”

  Chapter 36

  L ieutenant Mad smiled as she walked along the brick walkway of the Charlottesville Downtown Mall. She had a glow that wasn’t there the day before. It was probably a one-time affair, but that didn’t matter to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive. It gave her hope.

  Preoccupied with her thoughts, she was walking on autopilot. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Betty Busybody looking out her window. The lieutenant was in such a good mood, she smiled and waved. With a disgusted look on her face, the nosy neighbor pulled the curtain shut.

  The lieutenant stood at Dr. Bit’s front door and waited.

  “You have entered a secure area, please enter the password,” the computerized voice said.

  “The keypad is new,” she said into the box with the microphone. When Dr. Bit didn’t answer, she entered the password comprised of random numbers, letters, and special characters.

  “Welcome, Lieutenant Mad,” the automated response said, and the door unlocked.

  Her ragtag cohorts were gathered in the basement where they each had a PC connected to the highspeed network.

  “What’s up with you today, Lieutenant?” Dr. Bit said. “You didn’t give me any shit about my security system — and you look glowing.” He sniffed the air an
d pinched his nose with his thumb and index finger. “And what’s that odor? Is that soap?”

  The lieutenant punched him in the arm for his implication that she usually smelled like body odor, which she did. “I stayed at a place with a functioning shower and got a good night’s sleep for a change.”

  “Why didn’t you stay at the Jefferson?”

  “There were spooks there, waiting to nab me.”

  “How’d they find you?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a straight face.

  “You could’ve come here.”

  “I didn’t want to put your house in jeopardy. We need access to your network.”

  “Oh, I see, I’m expendable, but my network isn’t?”

  She smiled and said, “You’ve got it. I’d hate to have anything bad happen to you, but you’re easier to replace than your network.”

  “Thanks a lot. Where did you land last night?”

  “FBI Agent Target invited me to stay in the guestroom at his townhouse.”

  L. Ron and Rasputin perked up with interest, waiting for Dr. Bit’s reaction to that revelation.

  “I thought you didn’t trust anyone in the intelligence agencies. Yesterday, when I said you were going gaga over that FBI guy, you hit me.”

  Lieutenant Mad looked like she was about to punch him again. “I’m not going gaga over any man. Agent Target and I are friends, nothing more. He’s not like the other government goons. He has a conscience.”

  “Whatever you say, Lieutenant,” he said and wisely changed the subject. “I’ve identified a place where you can arrange a meeting with Anne Upshaw.”

  “Awesome. Where?”

  “She’s the keynote speaker at a symposium being held tomorrow in Crystal City.”

  “Near Washington DC?”

  “Yes, the conference is at the Westin Crystal City.”

  “Can you get me an invitation?”

  “I’ve already emailed you a ticket and I created a nametag for you.”

  “How am I going to get there? I don’t’ own a car and I don’t have a license.”

  “There’s a train that runs from Charlottesville to Crystal City. It departs tonight. I emailed you a ticket.”

  “Where am I going to spend the night? On a park bench?”

  “All of the rooms at the local hotels were filled because of the conference. But, I arranged a room cancellation at the Westin. I booked you under the name, Sandy Foot.”

  “Are you shitting me? Do I look like a Sandy Foot?”

  “The name was available. Your hotel room and train ticket are charged to a credit card under that name. There’s no photo ID on the card, so it doesn’t matter what you look like.”

  “If you had blonde hair and a Barbie doll figure, you’d look like a Sandy,” L. Ron said. “I’d like to see that.”

  “You stay out of this. It’s more likely aliens will take over the earth than I’ll become a blonde Barbie doll lookalike.”

  “It’s too late to come up with a new name,” Dr. Bit said. “The reservations are already made. Besides, there’s no reason there couldn’t be a Sandy Foot with auburn hair.”

  “Fine, but I won’t forget this.”

  “You’re not very grateful, Sandy.”

  “Don’t call me Sandy, ... Harold,” she said.

  “You win. I won’t call you Sandy if you don’t call me by my first name. But, it’s still too late to change all your paperwork.”

  “Alright, enough said about that subject. I can live with it for a couple of days in DC.”

  “If you’re interested, I did a trace on Lighthouse Technology Corp. As expected, it’s a holding company without any office or employees. It’s owned by several layers of holding companies that lead back to Upshaw Corporation.”

  “When I talk to Anne Upshaw, I’m going to ask her about her suspicious holding companies.”

  “I don’t know whether she’s aware of Lighthouse or not, but only a high-level executive at Upshaw would have the authority to buy expensive assets through a holding company like that.”

  “You mean assets like the houses given to Jeremy Glover, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Before I forget, I have something else I need you to research. I want you to find out everything you can about a woman named Amanda Thiel.”

  “Who’s she?”

  “She’s an NSA Analyst who was personally involved with Jeremy Glover. Apparently, she went missing about a month ago. The investigation into her disappearance is being buried by the spooks.”

  “Can’t your FBI boyfriend do a simple background check?” The lieutenant shot him a warning glance that let him know he was pushing the limit of his teasing. “I mean your friend.”

  “Her personnel files have very restrictive access.”

  “I’ll see what I can learn about her.”

  “L. Ron, have you discovered anything about Upshaw’s recent technology developments that could explain what’s going on? If it involves time travel or an alien invasion, you better have tangible evidence to back it up. We don’t have time to waste on crazy theories.”

  “I contacted a former UVA student of mine, who works in Upshaw’s research and development department. There are a couple of projects getting a lot of attention in the company right now. One is called Deep Space Laser Power. It’s the creation of a laser propulsion engine that could propel a spacecraft with a crew of four at a speed that’s a third of the speed of light. That means it would only take a few days to travel to Mars.”

  “Doesn’t NASA already have that technology?”

  “They’re working on it, but they aren’t as far along as Upshaw. NASA’s most advanced spacecraft for deep space travel is called Orion. Its engines use more traditional solid and liquid rocket fuels and will take three months to get to Mars.”

  “OK, so Upshaw has developed a laser-powered engine. Why wouldn’t the government just buy it from them?” the lieutenant said. “Is there any indication that Upshaw is trying to sell the technology to China?”

  “My contact at Upshaw is an engineer. He doesn’t know anything about government conspiracies. Upshaw isn’t required to sell their technology to the government. They could pursue space travel independently; however, they’d need FAA approval to launch their own spacecraft.”

  “You said there were a couple of projects. What’s the other one?”

  “It’s the development of a line of weapons using Pulsed Energy Projectiles (PEP). This technology works by emitting invisible laser pulses that can be directed at people. They’re powerful enough to knock humans off their feet and paralyze them.”

  The lieutenant looked at him suspiciously and said, “Are you saying they’ve developed ray guns like in the 1950’s Sci-Fi movies?”

  “More sophisticated, but conceptually the equivalent,” L. Ron said. These are handheld devices that are effective over short distances. The Navy already has high-powered laser weapons on destroyers that can knock down drones and disable enemy vessels. And, although the government hasn’t announced it, they’ve probably deployed lasers that can destroy missiles.”

  “We need to find out whether either of these projects has anything to do with Upshaw being investigated by the government task force. And, we need to determine where the dead FBI agent and blonde NSA Analyst fit into the puzzle.”

  “There’s another product development effort that they’re working on that’s super secretive. I’ll keep digging and find out what they’re up to.”

  “If I’m able to meet with Anne Upshaw in Crystal City, maybe she can shed some light on this government attack on her company and her personally,” the lieutenant said.

  “You need to be careful. We’re still not sure if she’s a traitor.”

  “I’ll take my chances. I’d put my faith in a private citizen over a government spook, any day.”

  Rasputin had an eager look in his eyes like he had something to say but wanted to be asked before making a revelation.r />
  “Rasputin, do you have any updates from the assassin underworld?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Are you going to make me beg? What do you know?”

  “I’ve been hired to kill someone.”

  Chapter 37

  D aphne said, “It’s a simple question. Why do you and QT have the same home address?”

  Blaire looked at QT with an enquiring look on her face. He nodded slightly. She returned her attention to Daphne to answer the unexpected question. “I have the same address listed as Agent Target because he and I share a townhouse.”

  “Does that include sharing a bed?”

  “You’ve made your point,” Quinton said. “Blaire and I are in a relationship and we’ve lived together for the past six months.”

  “Don’t you think that fact is pertinent to the investigation?”

  “No, I don’t. Blaire isn’t a suspect. You know as well as I do that she had nothing to do with Jeremy’s murder. She was an intended victim, too.”

  “That’s true, but as a professional courtesy, you could’ve told me about your relationship or at least informed our superiors.”

  “My boss is aware that Blaire and I live together and at my request, he notified Colonel Smithers at the beginning of the investigation that I’d been in contact with Blaire and would make sure she was here for an interview when the time was right.”

  “So, I’m the only one who’s been kept in the dark?”

  “Look, I didn’t know you when you were assigned to work with me. Right or wrong, I made the decision not to bring you in the loop about Blaire. I’m sorry if your feelings are hurt, but trust must be earned and that takes time.”

  “Trust is a two-way street. What else are you holding back from me?”

  “Feel free to ask Blaire or me anything about the case.”

  “Did you know where Blaire was from the beginning of the investigation?”

  “Yes, she called me. I had no idea whether somebody from one of the intelligence agencies was involved. We still don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone where she was because I was concerned about her safety.”

  “You said your boss informed Colonel Smithers that you’d been in contact with Blaire. Does that mean the Colonel knows about your relationship?”