by Dave Edlund
“This was self-defense.” Peter felt his face flushing, heard his voice rising. “You’re the one who will spend the rest of his life behind bars.”
“That’s not the story my attorneys will sell to the jury. Besides, I have a get-out-of-jail-free card.” He shifted his eyes to Nadya again. “I understand the Mossad are very good at terminating their marks, and they never forgive, isn’t that true?”
She lowered her gun a little and faced Peter. “He’s right. If they mark you, they will never stop until you are dead.”
A loud bang sounded at the front door. It wasn’t a gunshot or explosion, rather metal smashing into the steel door.
“They’re breaching the door,” Peter said. He ejected the magazine from the submachine gun and threw it across the room. Then he cycled the action, ejecting the round from the chamber. Nadya followed his lead and tossed the unloaded Beretta well out of reach. Peter draped the black nylon-web sling over Duss’s head and laid the MP5SB in his lap.
Another bang echoed through the hallway, followed by the slam of the door into the wall as it burst open under repeated blows from the battering ram.
Nadya and Peter sat, hands raised, to either side of Claude Duss, who was still holding his injured hand against his chest. He was attempting to slip the black sling off his shoulder when the first Sheriff Deputy edged around the corner of the hallway. He was leading with an M4 assault rifle.
“Don’t move! Raise your hands!”
“I need medical help,” Duss said. “They tried to kill me.”
“Raise your hands!”
Slowly, Duss complied.
More deputies appeared and rushed into the large room. The smell of blood and urine and guts was almost as strong as the visual image of total carnage. It was the worst massacre any had seen. Bodies were bent at unnatural angles, flesh ripped from limbs. Other than the shuffling of their boots, it was eerily silent.
“Keep your hands up!” someone shouted, and a deputy roughly removed the weapon slung over Duss’ head. Others walked among the corpses, occasionally checking for a pulse. A deputy rushed to the APC where Kennor was wired to the tow loop. He ripped off the tape and confirmed the man was alive.
One of them spoke into a microphone attached to his shoulder epaulet. “Secured. Send in the EMTs. We have four survivors. Looks like a gunshot wound to the hand of one of ‘em.”
“My name is Nadya Wheeler. I radioed for help.”
She was met with a blank stare from the deputies. All rifles still aimed at the three of them.
“Is Detective Colson from the Bend PD with you?” she asked.
One of the deputies left and returned on the heels of the EMTs, Detective Colson at his side.
“I’m not injured,” Nadya said to a pair of EMTs while others attended to Duss.
Colson approached Peter. He shrugged off the paramedics. “Well, well. Mr. Savage.” She met his eyes with a stern countenance. “You do have a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Colson cast her gaze around the room. “Your doing?”
“My friend here,” he nodded to Duss, “arranged to have me plucked off the street a few hours ago by his goons. Right in front of my home. His men tied us up in this room.”
“You and the young lady—Nadya Wheeler?”
Peter nodded.
“I did no such thing. He’s lying.”
One of the paramedics got in Duss’ face. “You need to calm down, sir. We’re going to put you on an IV and get some fluids in you. You’ve lost a lot of blood.”
“They tried to kill me!”
“Sir,” the EMT commanded, “you need to calm down.”
Nadya addressed Colson. “Ellison, that man there,” she pointed to the body, “worked for Duss. He was orchestrating the murders in Bend and the attack in the mountains.”
“You seem to know a lot about this, so why don’t you enlighten me?”
Nadya glanced at Peter, and then focused on Colson. “I work for Israeli intelligence.”
“Don’t listen to her!” Duss shouted as he was being strapped onto a gurney.
Colson rolled her eyes. “So much for wrapping this up quickly.”
“I’ll give you a full statement and answer all your questions at your headquarters.”
“Yes, you will. You too, Mr. Savage.”
Chapter 50
Bend, Oregon
April 27
After a long night of seemingly endless questioning by the detectives, Peter and Nadya were released with stern orders not to leave town. “I mean it, Mr. Savage,” Detective Colson admonished.
After conferring with two Crook County Sheriff Investigators, who participated in the questioning, they decided there was insufficient evidence to implicate Peter or Nadya for any crime. For once, Colson had to admit that it appeared Peter was a victim.
It was still dark outside when the detective drove the two to Peter’s home. “Remember what I said. Don’t leave town.”
Peter nodded as he stepped out of the unmarked car. He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and held it open for Nadya. Diesel greeted him as usual, and this time the canine didn’t growl at Nadya.
As tired as he was, Peter really needed to talk to Jim. He offered Nadya the guest room, but she wanted to participate in the call. They sat at the counter in the kitchen, and Peter dialed the number.
“Jim, it’s Peter. I have you on speaker. Nadya Wheeler is with me.”
Nadya identified herself and gave the name of her superior in Tel Aviv.
“I’ll have one of my analysts verify your identity. But until we do, this conversation will not be candid.”
“Understood,” Peter said. “I need to bring you up to speed. Last night, some hired guns working for United Armaments snatched me in front of my home. Nadya was taken also. They intended to question us at a test range in Crook County, Eastern Oregon.”
Peter and Nadya shared the highlights with Jim. He waited to comment and ask questions until they were done. “We were able to connect that gunship to UA. The wreckage was badly burned, but we got a serial number from the frame. The assault team was mostly composed of mercenaries—ex-U.S. military. Although four bodies remain unidentified.”
“That’s probably my team. They won’t show up in your databases.”
“You sound pretty certain, Ms. Wheeler,” Jim said.
“I am.”
“Foreign agents acting on U.S. soil, attempting to murder an American. That will not go over well at the State Department.”
Nadya understood the diplomatic fallout that was about to beset her government. She also recognized that Mossad might disavow her, or worse.
“We have a theory,” Peter said, “that the Israeli Prime Minister and Congressman Schuman are plotting a pre-emptive attack on Iran.”
“The Speaker would have to win the election first,” Jim said, sounding almost philosophical.
“That’s obviously his plan, but we think he’s engineered a fail-safe. If Schuman succeeds in spearheading an override vote, and the Israeli Security Act becomes law, Congress will be forced to declare war on Iran when they retaliate. The Liberty case was, essentially, the blueprint. That’s why they were willing to commit murder to keep it secret.”
“Lieutenant Lacey and Mona Stephens have put forward a similar theory, although they have yet to find any supporting evidence. What did Duss have to say?”
“Nothing of value, really. And when I told him I was going to release the files to the public, he didn’t seem alarmed. If our theory is right, they’ll want to bury those files at least until the election is over.”
“You have the files?” Jim asked.
With all that had happened over the past days—from the near-death experience in the mountains to the kidnapping by Ellison’s men—Peter had not shared with Jim the thumb drive he’d hidden.
“I’ll need that memory stick. Lacey and her team have been working to uncover who’s calling the shots.” Jim explained that Agent Barn
es was an alias. Richard Nyden never was an FBI Agent. Furthermore, the mercenaries working for UA were known as the Guardians, and phone records from Nyden’s cell connected him to both Ellison and Angela Meyers.
“That’s incredible,” Peter said. “You have a probable connection between Claude Duss and the Guardian’s terrorist actions.”
“Yes, and that’s the problem. Nothing solid to connect Duss to any of this. Or to Schuman.”
“Duss was there, at the test facility,” Nadya added. “Flew in just to question us is what Ellison said. That makes him an accessory to kidnapping.”
“No, Ellison is dead—and Duss will deny he knew anything about the kidnapping.” Peter stood and began to pace, but not straying too far from the phone.
“He’s got an army of top-notch attorneys on his payroll. We have to have overwhelming evidence to get a conviction.”
Peter leaned over the counter, suddenly energized. “Or, you need to turn him.”
“Go on,” Jim said.
“Can you have the FBI file federal charges? Terrorism? Firing missiles in a National Forest? Whatever. Anything and everything you can think of.”
“I’m sure we can get the Justice Department to cooperate. What’s the end game?”
As Nadya listened, Peter explained his plan.
“Well, it may be our best shot. I’ll make sure Lacey and Stephens are prepped, and I’ll phone Detective Colson and get the ball rolling. We’ll need to move fast. In the meantime, you two should get some rest. Expect to hear from Colson later today.”
“One more thing,” Peter said before Jim ended the call. “How is Kate?”
“Good. She’s safe here. Bored, but safe. She told me to remind you of your promise.”
Peter smiled, his mind flashing back to their farewell as she boarded the SGIT jet. That seemed so long ago.
“Tell her I remember, and I always keep a promise.” His smile faded.
After the call ended, Nadya looked at Peter like she was seeing him for the first time. “Who is Kate?”
“Someone who reminded me of something I’d forgotten.”
“What would that be?”
He raised his eyes to Nadya, his mind suddenly turning melancholy. “Life shouldn’t be wasted.”
s
Peter dropped himself into one of the leather, overstuffed chairs in front of the fireplace and Nadya retreated to the guest room. They both needed rest; a full ten hours of sleep would be great. But there was too much going on for that to happen. The best they could expect would be a few hours of shuteye—fitful, but better than nothing.
Peter pulled the leather ottoman closer and placed his legs on it. The supple leather and plush padding felt luxurious in comparison to the night he’d spent on concrete, van floors, and hard chairs.
Very quickly his eyelids closed as his entire body relaxed. But deep sleep did not come. His semiconscious mind began wandering. How would Claude Duss react when confronted by the federal charges? What if the detonator had failed and the improvised mine had not detonated? Would he ever be safe? And what of his family, Ethan and Joanna?
He shifted his body, scrunching deeper into the stuffed chair, trying to clear his mind. He craved sleep, but he had to shut down his mind first. There were so many what-ifs. He thought back to the beginning, when he met Kate Simpson. That Agent Barnes would have surely murdered her had he not been there. What will happen to Kate?
He recalled her brown eyes, soft and gentle; when she smiled her whole face radiated joy. Peter pictured that smile, her chocolate brown hair shimmering as she moved her head, her infectious laughter. Then he pictured a different Kate, one who was terrified after discovering the body of her roommate. Peter had lived this before—when fear infected like a hideous disease, a disease that left the body gaunt and pale after attacking the soul.
Kate would be easy prey for assassins if he couldn’t end this nightmare. Peter pictured her opening the door to a delivery person, or a police officer, only to learn too late that they were imposters.
No, he had to be certain the leaders were stopped—arrested and put in prison, or killed. It was the only way.
His mind shifted to Nadya and the moment she was prepared to kill him on the mountain. She had said Peter was a killer, no different from her or her team. He was angry at first; he wanted to believe he was different. But now, he questioned himself and his motives. Was he really any different?
He opened his eyes and checked the time. It was morning, and he had to concede he wasn’t going to get much sleep. Maybe some fresh air would help. He patted Diesel on the head, but the canine showed no interest in giving up his warm spot on the rug.
Pocketing his cell phone and keys, Peter opened the secret panel in the bookcase and retrieved the memory stick he’d hidden there inside the barrel of the Brown Bess musket. He quietly left and locked the door, no reason to disturb Nadya. Clutching the memory stick he climbed into his H3 Hummer truck and started the engine.
His first destination was an office supply store to purchase another memory stick. Next stop was the library to use one of the public computers.
Time to double down on my insurance policy.
Chapter 51
Bend, Oregon
April 27
Peter glanced at the time on his phone before answering the call. It was almost 1:30 p.m. The number was blocked on caller ID. That was fast, thought it would be later.
“Mr. Savage, it’s Detective Colson. I was told you’d be expecting my call. I want you and Ms. Wheeler to participate in a meeting at Bend PD in a little over an hour from now. Say 3:00 p.m.”
“We’ll be there.” Peter had already had lunch: a pulled pork sandwich and glass of IPA from one of his favorite brewpubs. He patted his pocket for the third time, making certain both memory sticks were still there.
On the short drive home, Peter was thinking over the anticipated meeting with Detective Colson. She did not want to say who would be attending, which suggested to Peter that Jim had succeeded in convincing the Department of Justice and FBI to play along.
Diesel greeted Peter at the door, tail wagging. It seemed that despite the sutured wounds and extensive bruising, the worst of the pain had passed. “Hey boy. Is Nadya still sleeping?”
Diesel returned his master’s gaze, cocking his head to the side.
Peter walked to the guest room and knocked on the door. “Nadya, we have our meeting soon.”
He expected to hear a groggy acknowledgement, or maybe stirring as she rose and moved about the room. Instead, he was greeted by silence.
He rapped his knuckles against the door, this time harder. “Nadya?”
Silence.
Peter turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, peaking around the edge, hoping she was just exhausted and sleeping soundly. The sheet and blanket were pulled back, and the pillow was pushed in, suggesting she had slept in the bed, but the room was empty. Nadya was gone.
s
“Where’s Ms. Wheeler?” Detective Colson asked.
“I don’t know. She left without a word. Not even a note.”
“Great. Why is it that nothing’s easy when you’re involved?”
Peter shrugged.
“Never mind. Sign in so we can issue you a visitor’s badge.”
Peter filled out the log sheet and a uniformed officer gave him a clip-on badge. An audible buzz accompanied the click of a lock, and Colson held the door open for Peter to enter.
“You should have this. You’ll find the contents interesting, to say the least.” Peter held out a memory stick.
She raised her eyebrows as she pocketed the memory device. “Follow me,” she said.
It wasn’t far to the conference room, and Colson waved him inside. Jim and Mona Stephens were already seated at the table.
“Lieutenant Lacey couldn’t break away from another assignment,” Jim said. “But Ms. Stephens has been on this case from the beginning. In fact, she’s been our point of contact with Detect
ive Colson.”
An unfamiliar face approached Peter. “I’m Special Agent Markley,” he said as he offered his FBI badge and ID for Peter to examine. “We’ve discussed this case in detail,” he said as he motioned for Peter to take a seat. “I was under the impression that Ms. Wheeler would also be participating. We have some questions we thought she could help with.”
“I don’t know where Nadya is. She was staying in my guest room after the detective dropped us off early this morning. I went out to have lunch, and when I returned, she was gone.”
“Did you ask her to join you for lunch?” Detective Colson asked.
Peter shook his head. “I assumed she was sleeping; I didn’t want to wake her.”
“We’re checking her story,” Stephens added. “It might take a few days to get a definitive answer if we have to involve the State Department.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Markley said. “Under the circumstances, the Bureau has no choice but to place her on a watch list as a suspected terrorist. At the very least, we want to bring her in for questioning.”
Jim cleared his throat. “We will provide you a full report once we have anything definitive from the Israeli government. However, under the circumstances, perhaps it would be more productive to focus on the bigger fish.”
Markley frowned. “I’m coming to that Commander. Your participation in an advisory capacity is appreciated, but we do have a process to follow.”
“Gentlemen.” Colson interrupted sensing a turf battle about to erupt. “No one is suggesting we forget about Ms. Wheeler. But that’s not why we are here. The question of national security must be taken seriously. If the allegations that Commander Nicolaou has shared are true, we have an extremely serious problem.”
Markley held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Agent Elizondo is questioning Mr. Duss just down the hall. As you suggested, if he agrees to testify against Angela Meyers and Abraham Schuman, we are prepared to offer full immunity on all federal charges, including terrorism. I have to say, I never thought the AG would agree to these terms.”
“Do you think he’ll take the offer?” Peter asked. He had formulated this plan after thinking about the comment Duss made about being above the law, having a get-out-of-jail-free card, as he put it.
