by Tom Haase
His cell vibrated. He picked it out of his pocket because the real world still existed. He hit the answer button on the call from Scott, but decided to kill it. He needed a few more minutes with the woman he loved, before the realm of officialdom closed in and all this became a police scene.
In his mind, they were going to be married and get out of the FBI business. They embodied the skills and talents required to set up their own security and investigation company that didn’t have to play the high-risk stakes of state terrorism and a government’s nuclear games. On this last thought, he let his hand caress hers and he looked into her now-clouded eyes.
“Will you marry me, Bridget Donavan?” He could not control his grief. He let the tears gush down his cheeks. They came like a flooding river down his face and dripped onto hers.
“Matt, is she?”
He rotated his head toward the voice of Liz Garcia, who rushed up to where he knelt beside Bridget.
“I think so. I don’t feel a pulse. Look at the blood. It appears that she killed her attacker.” He wiped his tears away before he stood.
The door of the bar opened, and a man in an apron looked out, carrying a trash bag for depositing in the nearby dumpster.
“Dial 911 and get the police,” Matt shouted at him. He realized he hadn’t done that.
“I already did,” Liz informed him.
The man looked around in a state of shock on seeing the murder scene. Then he nodded and disappeared back inside.
Matt forced himself to focus and to regain some control. He reached down and gently closed Bridget’s eyes. She rested next to her assailant, who she had somehow been able to slay. The man bore a knife stuck in his neck, pointing up toward his brain. Death would have been almost instantaneous. Bridget knew how to kill.
He spoke in a subdued voice to his lover so that no one could hear. “I’m so sorry, my love. If I had given you the ring earlier, you wouldn’t be here. I swear to you that whoever’s behind this is a dead man walking.” He felt the internal heat of rage building in his body. He would carry out his promise, and not stop till he succeeded.
Liz searched the attacker but found no ID or phone—another professional. The FBI might be able to identify him from fingerprints.
“Liz, I need your help.” Matt now faced her.
“Wait. You have to get away from here. I’ll handle this scene. You go and go now.” After she’d found Bridget’s location, she had called the city police, and they could be heard arriving with blaring sirens. “I’ll have an FBI team here in a few minutes. Are you all right, Matt?”
“Hell no. I’m gonna get whoever ordered this. Liz, this appears to be a professional hit, and someone has to be behind it. They targeted me too. I have to contact Scott to warn him.”
“Do it. But I can hear the anger in your voice. Stay calm. I know what she meant to you, but we'll find out what happened. Now, let me get on this. You get away from here this minute. We don’t want you exposed as an FBI agent. I’ll get back to you after I take care of this scene. Now please go.” He could hear Liz suck in a great gulp of air, showing her exasperation about this situation. He recognized her ability to “take care of the scene,” and he didn’t need to stay here. Nothing remained for him to accomplish by staying around. If he did, he would be stuck for hours and not able to immediately start the search for the organizer of the attacks. He recognized them as being connected and orchestrated. His abilities were now needed in the fulfillment of the promise he’d made to bring down the culprit behind this murder, the dead man walking of his oath.
Every fiber in his body radiated anger. He felt the increase in the throbbing of his heart as he stared at the body of his beloved. He pounded his chest with his fists to release the building tension. It produced no relief.
“Liz, I can only promise you one thing—someone is going to die, after I make them suffer.”
He hurried off seconds before the police appeared.
7
Washington, D.C
Two Days Later
Matt arrived in the cemetery before the hearse. The black suit and tie felt tight on his body, as the exterior trappings of mourning were all that held in the fury raging inside. He took another deep breath to try to remain outwardly calm.
The nondenominational service at the church lasted but twenty minutes. He now watched with a searing hatred in his gut as the military pallbearers placed the casket of a former soldier above the open grave. He used all his willpower to remain in control. This wouldn’t be the time to break down. Matt sat in his chair, not hearing the words of the minister, but becoming more agitated by the minute. His mind raced over his life with Bridget. He remained in this state, until he stood when the others did, and then heard the volley of shots from the honor guard. The most difficult test of his strength was when the bugler played “Taps.” He realized, as the last notes of the final tribute by the military faded, that the time for unabashed grief had passed. Now the need for action became paramount in his consciousness.
“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Gerti said to Scott.
“I agree. The military know how to honor their own. We did the right thing by not having an open casket. I want to remember my sister the way I last saw her. Not sliced up and…” Scott faltered, but showed no sign of tears.
“Matt, are you all right?” Gerti asked. She had observed the wetness on his cheeks. He didn’t respond, so she wondered if Matt concurred with Scott’s decision on the casket, but decided not to ask.
Matt nodded. The depth of his grief now contained no tears, only a searing hatred, and a wave of burning vengeance ripping through his heart for whoever had orchestrated Bridget’s murder. His primary mission in life became the elimination of the individual or individuals responsible, no matter how long it took, no matter what the cost. He would get it done.
Matt noticed that Schultz had increased his own personal protection after the recent events, and his expanded team accompanied him wherever he went. Matt assumed this enlarged guard detail also had protecting Gerti as one of its mission objectives.
The honor guard departed, and then the minister walked over to convey his condolences to Scott as the sole immediate relative in attendance. Scott quickly stood up to shake his hand, the bullet slammed into his vacated chair. He immediately crouched, falling sideways as he grabbed Gerti, and pulled her to the ground beside him, keeping her away from the spot of the first round’s impact. The second hit right next to his head and missed his wife by mere inches. Someone among the mourners screamed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Matt saw Scott watching him as he ducked and dropped to the ground, while starting to survey the area. Scott appeared to have picked up on the fact that Matt’s eyes now focused on the hill above the cemetery where he thought he saw movement. They both realized simultaneously the rounds came from that general elevated location. Matt rose, and grabbed Liz, his FBI liaison, pulling her away from the scene. Matt witnessed a pair from Schultz’s extra security detail rush to the spot from which he thought the shots had originated.
Immediately after the crack of the shots had dissipated, Matt saw a man raise up and start to run away from the spot where he thought the shots originated. Matt felt his heart increase because of the pounding in his chest. People around him were shoving others to get out of the area. A woman screamed a piercing wail behind him. It caused him to wince, but he watched as two Schultz men rushed to the shooter’s position. One of them jerked the shooter upright. The other held a gun on the man.
The FBI protection in the area consisted of only those around their director, who had attended out of respect for Matt. There existed no apparent threat to anyone else at the cemetery. Matt observed one of Schultz’s security men slap the suspect with his hand and then pistol-whip him as they dragged their captive away band disappeared from sight in a few seconds. He didn’t know if the FBI men had even seen this as they swarmed around the person of the director.
Chaos reigned around the casket. People were shouting
and had stated to run to their cars. Matt saw Liz pull her phone out. He guessed that she had called to reinforce the original team who had accompanied the director to the funeral. Liz’s action would bring the cavalry, if his bodyguards with him hadn’t already made the same call. She headed toward the road to meet the FBI reinforcements on their arrival. During the same time, the director of the FBI signaled Matt to follow him, and then led him a distance away from the others.
* * *
Schultz rushed to where Gerti now stood beside Scott, having regained her footing. He hugged his daughter and let out a loud curse at whoever had attempted to murder her. After he released her, Schultz called for his security team. Once order was reestablished in the area, Scott escorted Gerti back to a chair and guided her down. Schultz motioned Scott to accompany him, and they moved a short distance away, with Scott continuing to scan the horizon for any sign of a new threat.
“What do you have?” Scott asked.
“My men nabbed the shooter and are taking him to a secure place. The FBI guys arrived too late, so they found nothing but the shell casings.”
“I’ll have to tell Matt. He’ll want to interrogate him,” Scott said.
“Not until my men get first crack at him. I want to find out why he shot at my daughter.”
“What about me?”
“You too, of course,” Schultz said, failing to look at Scott.
Scott nodded. He walked back to Gerti, and stayed there waiting until the cops came with the inevitable paperwork and questions. Police sirens wailed, signaling their approach, and the rotating multicolored lights drew near.
* * *
Matt huddled with the director as they moved away from the confusion around the burial plot. They were now far enough away from the others not to be heard, and he waited, anticipating his boss would speak first. After long seconds, Matt decided to break the silence.
“I know these events are a conspiracy to kill the four of us. It’s obvious. Whoever’s doing it is targeting Scott, Gerti and me now that they’ve eliminated Bridget. That’s not going to happen. It’s time for me to go on the offensive. I want you to assign me to this. I will wreak justice on the one who ordered Bridget killed. I want not only the killer, but whoever paid for these hits on Scott and Gerti too.”
“Hold on, Matt.” The director raised his hands. “I don’t want you going off on a revenge crusade. We’re still sworn officers in law enforcement.”
“That I understand. I’ll do this like any other mission we’ve conducted in the past. My intent is to capture them”—he smiled—“unless they shoot first.”
“There has to be more to this than random individual attacks,” said the director after a long pause. “You were all attacked at about the same time in different locations, from what we can put together. That smells like some organization targeting FBI assets. Your new mission is to find out why and to bring them to justice. Is that clear enough? Use Liz for your contact as before.”
He shook Matt’s hand, and they walked to his car. The police had arrived, and they recognized the director of the FBI. They didn’t delay his departure from the cemetery.
As the director left, Matt remembered his clandestine meeting with the director that had set up his current position.
* * *
Hotel
Downtown D.C.
"As you know,” the Director said, “most of the letter agencies—CIA, DIA, NSA, etc.—all possess what in the jargon is known as black ops capability. They are able to conduct operations completely off-book. The FBI has no such unit. I am proposing, with your help, that we create one."
Matt watched the director to see if he intended to laugh, and this meeting was merely a joke. His mind didn’t comprehend in any detail the director’s proposal.
"I'm sorry, sir. I think you're going to have to break this down, and explain in specific terms that I can get my head around. You’ve obviously thought it through, and I'm coming in on the end of that process."
“You’re right, Matt, very perceptive and quite correct. Let me spell it out,” the director said. “I want you to set up a team of people we can call upon to do jobs that would not be possible via the ordinary and regular channels of operation in the FBI. You will be a full-fledged agent, who reports only to me. Now, I’m not always available, and you worked quite well with an agent in that case of the terrorist on the Metro. I have assigned Special Agent Liz Garcia to be my special assistant. She will be your contact, and the person you will report to for whatever assets you need.”
Matt knew Liz, a beautiful woman with alluring jet-black hair and perfectly shaped shoulders over an eye-candy body—and an attitude that could stop a charging bull.
The director interrupted his recollection. “You’ll be given a specific mission given to you for each new operation. Don’t use Bureau personnel for your ops.”
Matt remained absolutely astounded at this proposal.
"As you can see, my mind’s working overtime to comprehend the significance of what you’re saying. I’m supposed to build a team, none of them from the FBI, and go after those who are providing arms to our homegrown terrorists or whatever other bad guys you designate. I’ll have all the assets of the FBI available to me going through your office. Is that correct?"
“Exactly. I want to be very clear—I’m not giving you a 007 license to kill, but if for some reason you manage to get them to shoot at you first, I hope we’re not going to experience any trials.” The director took a big sip of his beer. “I want you to keep your connection with the FBI secret. Only you have the access. Don’t show your badge unless absolutely necessary. This is an off-book operation. I’ll make a note in your file about your new duties, but it will be in Garcia’s hands to prevent anyone from personnel or any other snoop from finding it. Are you with me?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Matt calculated some details—what kind of team he might put together, and the timeframe he would require. He needed to switch back into his military operational mode for the organization part, and rely on the vast FBI bureaucracy to supply him with the items he believed would be required. His detailed knowledge of all the assets in the Bureau would be invaluable in this operation. Yes, a great challenge loomed before him.
"Are you agreeable?" the director asked and waited for an answer.
"Yes."
"Welcome to the special operations executive that we just created," the director said.
“You mean like the old SOE from the Second World War? The precursor to the CIA?”
“Yes, sorta like that. I hadn’t connected it, but a good catch on your part. We just produced a modern-day clandestine SOE operating within the FBI.”
* * *
As the head of the FBI drove away from the cemetery, a commotion erupted behind Matt. He turned to see Scott supporting Gerti as she started to collapse. Her father rushed to her side.
Matt sprinted to where Scott held his wife.
“What’s wrong?” he heard Schultz ask.
“She fainted. I have to get her to a hospital. It may be the pregnancy,” Scott said.
“What pregnancy?” Schultz asked.
“Hers. You’re going to be a grandfather. Now I need to rush her to a hospital for medical attention,” Scott shouted at the man.
Schultz called someone on his phone, and within a minute, a car came screaming up to their position. A man got out and helped Scott put Gerti in the vehicle. Scott jumped in and they took off.
Schultz peered at Matt with a weird expression. Matt didn’t remember ever seeing that look on the man’s face before, and as soon as it appeared, it vanished. “Did you know about this pregnancy?”
“No. Not till now,” Matt responded.
“Lucky I had another car ready as a backup. After the events in New York, I decided to double the security around Gerti and also myself. I’ll call Scott so he can keep me informed of what’s happening with Gerti. I’ll be going there shortly. But first a visit to my men.” His
facial features completely changed before he said, “Imagine that, a grandfather.”
It took another half hour to placate the local police, and then Matt drove out of the cemetery. Schultz left in his own car without saying anything to Matt.
Matt headed toward the hospital after Scott called and informed him where to go. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment that the funeral would be a great way to follow up on the missed kills by the orchestrator. That person could logically assume his targets were likely to be in that location to mourn the death of one of their members. He blamed himself for not thinking of this before. He couldn’t pardon his lapse in judgment for making such a stupid mistake, and continued to curse his stupidity at not taking all possibilities into account.
He tried, without success, to justify his blunder by using Bridget’s death and his grief as the reason for his blunder. Can’t do that again. Get your head in the game. Whoever the mastermind behind these assaults was, he’d gotten Bridget and subsequently attempted to eliminate all of them. But she would be the last one of them he would murder. Matt promised himself that and added a little more.
I will kill you, whoever and wherever you are. Vengeance for Bridget will be mine. I swear it.
8
Gerti at Hospital
Scott paced the hospital floor. The nurse told him the doctor would be with him shortly. Shortly, my ass. They always say that, he realized. He hated hospitals. Spending a few days in one in Savannah, recovering from the wound received at the hand of the Russian arms dealer, had reaffirmed his intense dislike for any hospital. Now his wife had experienced some type of pregnancy trouble, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to help while they examined her.
