Unexpected Gaines

Home > Other > Unexpected Gaines > Page 30
Unexpected Gaines Page 30

by S L Shelton


  He had me trapped in the detail—but beyond that, I could see ripples of discomfort on his face when he said the words “documentation” and “read anything.” I had to trust John and do what he asked.

  “No,” I lied. “I can’t think of a thing.”

  Judging by the micro-expression that flitted across Richards’s face, I could tell he didn’t believe me.

  He wouldn’t believe you no matter what you said, whispered my other voice into my ear. He wants something from you.

  If that was the case, he didn’t show it during the rest of the debriefing. The rest of the meeting was a rehashing of all the details of our other encounters with Gaines, the surveillance we set up, and how I had been captured. All without any more second guessing from Richards.

  “There is the matter of the unknown gunman,” Ms. Cantor said as the debriefing began to wind down.

  “Except for the fact that they were attacked, there is no other useful information regarding that matter,” Richards said. “Unless there is new information concerning the identity of the man, I recommend holding off on any discussion. We wouldn’t want to introduce any classified speculation in the presence of uncleared personnel.” He was obviously referring to me.

  That statement struck me as wholly self-serving. I recognized the micro-expressions on Richards face—he was hiding something. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Director Burgess hadn’t reacted. Perhaps he didn’t see it, or perhaps he was just better at hiding his responses than Ned Richards was.

  “I agree,” Burgess said. Then I saw it. It was just a flash, but he didn’t want to disclose anything more to Richards either. “We need to hunt down more leads on that incident. We aren’t even certain they are related…though a coincidence seems unlikely.”

  Cantor reluctantly accepted the determination and moved on.

  “I want it stated for the record that Justice feels Gaines belongs to us,” she said, turning to look directly at Richards. “We have already begun the legal procedure to have him transferred.” She slid a piece of paper to him.

  Richards looked at the paper and anger flashed across his face.

  “A stay?” he asked incredulously. “Just because you have a friendly judge doesn’t mean you can subvert the process.”

  “Look again,” she said. “It’s Judge Chambers. He wants to review the matter before Gaines disappears into a dark hole somewhere.”

  “This is unacceptable,” Richards replied. “Gaines is ours. We are moving him to a secure location.”

  “That is unlikely,” Cantor said. “And to be certain he doesn’t just disappear, there are federal marshals escorting him to his holding location.”

  Ned looked at the paper again and shook his head. “We’ll just have to let the lawyers figure it out,” he said with a smug grin, clearly not believing he would lose custody of his prisoner.

  When we had concluded, I rose and shook hands with Ms. Cantor, who smiled warmly at me. When I reached for Richards’ hand, he withdrew it quickly.

  “On the off chance that I’ve offended you, I hope you don’t mind if we don’t shake,” he said and then exited the room briskly.

  “Thank you, Scott,” the director said. “If you could, I’d like for you to wait in the office next door. I’ll be just a minute longer.”

  “Yes sir,” I replied and entered the office. There in the corner was Captain John Temple.

  “Hey there, Scott,” John said as I entered. “You did good.”

  I closed the door. “You could hear?” I asked.

  “Me? Nah,” he said, smiling, and then winked.

  He motioned me to a chair in front of the desk.

  I grinned and accepted his invitation to sit. After a few moments, Director Burgess entered the office.

  “Thank you, Scott. You did just fine,” he said, shaking my hand again. “And, by the way, I can’t express enough gratitude to you for saving the life of one or more of my boys.”

  “There was more chance involved than anything else. I only wish we could have gotten him before he killed all those people,” I said with regret, though I suddenly felt as if I had told another lie—but I wasn’t ready to take my other voice at its word. Timing issues aside, Buck Grimwall was dead after Gaines had stalked him.

  “Not your concern. You did more than was asked and far more than was expected,” he said supportively.

  “Still…” I started.

  “Yes—still,” he repeated solemnly. After a moment’s pause, he continued. “In either case, it’s out of our hands. People further up the food chain than myself have decided to turn this mess over to Homeland Security unless Justice can get the transfer.”

  John shook his head. “And Baynebridge.”

  “Baynebridge?” I asked.

  “You might know them better as Black River or Executive Decision, Inc.,” the director explained. “They change their name every time they get in trouble with the press. They are basically a private military and intelligence company.”

  “Why would private military and intelligence have hooks in Gaines?” I asked, not sure I got the connection.

  “Much of federal security and intelligence is contracted through them,” Burgess continued. “The guard at your office is Baynebridge Security.”

  “Really?” I asked, having assumed he was a civil servant.

  “We should really be doing something to keep Gaines with DOJ,” John said.

  Burgess shook his head. “It’s out of our hands, John,” he said. “Though I think Justice isn’t going to let him go that easily.”

  “I’ve got something that might help,” I said, reaching into my pocket and extracting the thumb drive with the account and transaction numbers I had remembered.

  “What’s this?” John asked.

  “Thirty transaction numbers with the matching receiving account numbers from the printout I glanced at,” I said with a grin.

  “Son of a bitch,” John said with a grin as he reached out to take the drive. “How long did you have with the sheets?”

  “About a minute,” I replied.

  John looked at the director. “We need to get him a green card,” John said. I didn’t understand the reference, but I assumed it meant he wanted to keep me around.

  The director turned and looked at me, not smiling as John was.

  “I need to ask you a few questions,” he said. “Not related to Gaines but to a project you did yesterday.”

  Oops, I thought.

  “You returned a movement prediction model that incorporated some data you weren’t provided,” he said as he sat behind his desk. “Would you explain to me how you came by that information?”

  I hesitated.

  “The travel routes only fit one set of road parameters anywhere on the globe,” I replied, knowing that’s not what he was referring to. “I mapped them to the appropriate region so I had terrain and war zone data to include in the simulation.”

  “You used data that accounted for shielding on nuclear devices and Serbian arms dealer activities,” he said, wrinkling his brow at me.

  Sorry, John, I thought before giving my explanation.

  “It was an assumption on my part,” I began. “When John and I were in Colorado Springs, I overheard a conversation he had with you, I believe, about tracking something. John mentioned he couldn’t tell me anything but that it was just clean up from a recent Op.”

  “That’s it?” John asked.

  I took a deep breath. “No,” I replied hesitantly, about to give up a secret of my own. “When you said it was a recent operation, a micro-expression flashed across your face indicating you were amused—as if your vague description was a secret hiding from me in plain view. I only had personal knowledge of one operation and the only one that would result in that particular response—Mimon.”

  “Son of a bitch,” John said, turning slightly pale. “You read micro-expressions?”

  I nodded.

  “What else have you gleaned from be
ing around here?” he asked, but I could tell it was rhetorical.

  “Ned Richards didn’t want us digging into the hit man in the alley,” I stated boldly.

  “Easy there, chief,” Burgess said with a warning tone in his voice.

  “He’s right,” John inserted.

  “But it’s not something that should be said out loud,” Burgess replied. “As it is, Homeland thinks we are covering for Gaines somehow. With an accusation like that out there, this could turn into a war very quickly.”

  John nodded.

  “But,” Burgess said with a sly smile sliding over his face. “That account data might make it easier for Justice to keep Gaines tied up.”

  John nodded. “I’ll get it down to the analysts,” he said.

  “Keep it out of the chain of custody,” Burgess said. “No sense tipping our hand if it leads to something.”

  “Understood,” John replied and then turned his attention back to me. “As for you. Since you figured out what we're looking for, I might as well bring you up to speed on the search. A fresh set of eyes on the project might be good.”

  I nodded, relieved I wasn’t going to get booted out for using tradecraft on the spies.

  “That’s it for now,” Burgess said abruptly. “Get out of here and get some rest, John. You look like shit.”

  “Yes, sir,” he replied and then turned me around by my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  “And Scott,” Burgess said as we started to exit. “It’s good to finally meet you. I’m looking forward to having you with the section.”

  I smiled. That made me very happy. “Thank you, sir,” I replied.

  When John had me out in the hallway, he stopped abruptly and turned to me. The expression on his face was of pure anger.

  “Just so you know,” he said, leaning close to me, “if you ever do that to me in front of my boss again, you’ll—” His face turned red and purple and he appeared to be frustrated beyond words. He turned and stomped away down the hall again—but I saw a shadow of amusement tug at his eyebrow and the corner of his lip for just the briefest instant.

  I chuckled as I caught up to him.

  “Not even that, huh?” he said with a grin.

  “Nope,” I said in a quiet voice. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” I smiled.

  “Fuck off,” he muttered as his grin broadened even more.

  **

  3:00 p.m.—New York, New York

  HEINRICH BRAUN was in the New York offices of William Spryte, waiting for an update from Ned Richards. When the call finally came through, he closed the door to his office and activated the soundproofing in the room.

  “Go secure,” Braun said and then switched on the encryption feature on his phone.

  “We have a problem,” Richards said as soon as the secure link was established.

  “Explain,” Braun said, tension building in his chest.

  “There’s a stay on the transfer for Gaines,” Richards said in a low voice. “And if we don’t do something fast, he’s going to get handed over to DOJ.”

  Braun let this information sink in before responding. “Where is he being held?” he asked finally.

  “The Navy Brig in Norfolk,” Richards replied. “As far as I can tell, he hasn’t revealed anything, but the CIA is keeping something from us.”

  “What about the operatives who captured him?” Braun asked.

  “There was only one Agent and one tech, though there’s something fishy about him,” Richards replied. “I don’t know if the Agent knows why Gaines was in LA or not, but I think the boy does. He’s hiding something—I can tell.”

  “Is he an Agency tech?” Braun asked.

  “No. Civilian contractor,” Richards responded. “Some outfit called TravTech.”

  Braun let this new information sink into the frame of his response. At the moment, there was no hope of extracting Gaines from the Navy Brig, but at least he probably wasn’t being interrogated there. The tech would be the best hope of finding out what information, if any, was revealed to the CIA.

  “What’s the tech boy’s name?” Braun asked.

  “Scott Wolfe,” Richards replied. “What should we do?”

  “I’ll make arrangements for Gaines in the event he's transferred to Justice custody,” Braun said. “In the meantime, I need you to find out what the tech knows. Do you have personnel you can trust to do a black bag Op?”

  There was a long pause.

  “I don’t have to remind you what’s at stake here,” Braun said in a sly hiss. “Your name was on that list. If the boy knows, then you could be facing the same prison time as everyone else.”

  The lie was a gamble. Braun didn’t know whose names were on the list. Black had run the sheet himself with supposedly false information. But the fact that Gaines had gone straight to Burbank after killing his sister’s murders hinted that Black had double-crossed everyone—not just Faulks and Gaines.

  “I have a couple people I can trust,” Richards finally said. “But if they get caught, there will be little we can do to cover ourselves.”

  “Baynebridge?” Braun asked.

  “Yes,” Richards said.

  “Then don’t worry. If they are discovered, we can cover our tracks,” Braun replied.

  “How?” Richards replied.

  “You let me worry about that,” he said firmly. “Just focus on getting that tech and interrogating him.”

  “And what about after he’s interrogated?” Richards asked.

  “If you have to ask, then you aren’t the man for this job,” Braun replied coarsely.

  “No, I understand,” Richards said indignantly.

  “Good,” Braun said. “Let me know when you have him. I’d like to be present for the interrogation.”

  “When do you want it done?” Richards asked.

  “Now!” Braun yelled. “The longer he has to reveal his information, the more damage to the organization. Get it done tonight.”

  “Understood,” Richards replied nervously.

  “Call me when it’s done,” Braun said and ended the call.

  He set his phone on his desk and dropped heavily into his chair. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He had gotten little sleep over the past few days—and until Gaines was either captured or killed, he felt that lack of rest would be the new trend.

  **

  9:10 p.m.—Fairfax, Virginia

  John dropped me at my car in Reston around 9:00 p.m.

  We had spent the remainder of the day with the analysts at Langley, trying to squeeze more detail from my brain concerning the transaction numbers and accounts. I wasn’t able to recall anything else of value. I had been half-distracted all afternoon, thinking about the emails from Kathrin, but I resolved to wait until I was alone to open them.

  After John dropped me off, I sat in my car and breathed calm into my chest before reading the messages from Kathrin. I was so happy I could barely contain myself.

  Her first message was brief—not even really a message to me. It read:

  And here we go for a 24th time. How long will this one take to bounce? But fear not, there will be a 25th, and a 26th, and so on, until one of them gets through.

  Until then, love always, Gretel.

  But the second message had a rather different tone. It read:

  Oh my GOD! No BOUNCE! Did it actually go through? Is it possible Scott Wolfe FINALLY got my message? I am crossing my fingers and toes and eyes, hoping this is the case and my Monkey Wrench is reading my words finally. Don’t keep me in suspense, please reply so I can sleep tonight.

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. Those two messages told me everything I needed to know about why Kathrin hadn’t responded to my earlier messages. I suppressed a rising urge to be angry at Robert Whitney and hit reply on my phone, typing in my response:

  Dear Gretel,

  I am pleased to confirm your messages have been delivered to my mailbox, warm, safe, and sound (though I can’t guarantee they were unre
ad by others). In the meantime, I suspect we will be able to communicate freely now…just a hunch. I will assume you did NOT receive my messages and will begin by telling you: I’ve missed you very much since returning to the States. Thank you for not giving up on me.

  Monkey Wrench

  ###-###-####

  I included my phone number in the signature then hit send. I had just slipped my keys into the ignition when Dave Grohl sang my theme music again. I pulled the email up and read it:

  Dare should I hope? Is that a phone number? Let’s give it a try.

  As I read, my phone rang. I smiled involuntarily, though I was confused by the display—unknown number—odd, considering I had caller ID even on foreign numbers.

  “Hello?” I answered as I backed out of the parking spot.

  “It is you!” Kathrin exclaimed loudly. “I was worried it was a trick!”

  I smiled more deeply and felt a flush of blood in my ears. “It’s really me,” I replied. “I’m so glad you finally got through.”

  “Why—” she began but abruptly changed course. “Not important. I’m so happy to hear your voice.”

  “How have you been?” I asked, turning onto the street.

  “Missing my partner in crime!” she exclaimed as if it should have been obvious. “It’s been so hard to focus on work since you left. And having all my emails bounce back at me—it felt like—never mind. It's you!”

  I chuckled. “I’ve truly missed you too,” I replied. “I was worried you’d come to your senses and decided that the crazy American was more trouble than he was worth.”

  “Never,” she said quickly. “I was worried you were blocking me. But then I thought, any man who would hop on a plane and do what you did would never give me the brush off by blocking my email. I’m so glad I was right.”

  “Have you been able to slip back into quiet civilian life after our adventure?” I asked.

  There was a second of hesitation before she responded. “Eh,” she replied. “It hasn’t been as much fun, but I’ve managed to get back into my routine…how about you?”

 

‹ Prev