by Jason Kasper
I didn’t know where this would end, or what the ultimate outcome of my actions would be—not as it related to my imprisonment or death, and definitely not as it pertained to the family I’d set out to protect.
The only certainty in that moment was that I needed to run, and so I did. I was a desperate fugitive, and the only recourse was to continue fleeing deeper into the woods, changing direction on a course that would lead miles into the night before I could call upon my team for help. Above it all was a sense of total exhaustion—mental, physical, and emotional—that I fought to suppress.
And as I moved, the branches and thorn bushes whipping across my body in the black surroundings, I felt the sting of hot tears against my eyes.
51
Duchess was awakened by a phone ringing on her nightstand.
Her eyes opened in the darkness. She knew from the ringtone that this was business—when your duties required you to be on call, the Agency paid to outfit your home with a secure line—and she rolled sideways to reach for the receiver by feel in a motion she’d executed many times before.
Sitting up and bringing the receiver to her ear, she said, “Duchess here.”
A man replied, “Ma’am, we’ve had an update in PIR 08.”
She felt a slight tremor in her hand as she turned on the bedside lamp, illuminating her solitary bedroom.
A limited number of “wake-up criteria” would result in her receiving a call like this, and Priority Intelligence Requirement number eight was the last one she wanted to receive a notification about.
She’d crafted the wording to be sufficiently vague—Any law enforcement reports with possible links to terrorist-related violence or intelligence gathering in Charlottesville or Albemarle County, Virginia, USA. That line of PIR wouldn’t look out of place amid the others pertaining to Bari Khan, all of them worthy of a call at 3:16 in the morning.
But Duchess’s unstated reason for instituting it had nothing to do with Bari Khan, and everything to do with David’s team.
And as the man continued speaking, she realized her fears were coming true.
“Charlottesville PD responded to a report of gunshots at a metalworking facility. They found two unidentified victims, one with a stab wound and a slit throat. The other had multiple stab wounds, a bullet in his abdomen, and a cracked skull from blunt force trauma of some kind.”
“Did they arrest anyone?”
“One suspect fled the scene and is currently at large. Bloody boot prints leading out of the building indicate two to three additional suspects that escaped. No one is in custody at this time.”
“Name of the facility?”
“Patten Metalworks. Formerly Dominion MetalFab.”
Duchess’s heart sank. As part of the security clearance process, CIA officers and contractors had their friends and family screened with an eye to indiscretions lending themselves to blackmail, and business holdings that could be used to launder illicit earnings. Both represented a risk for manipulation by foreign intelligence services trying to flip an Agency employee, and Duchess had screened the backgrounds of David’s team with a particularly wary eye.
She knew that David’s next of kin had recently sold Dominion MetalFab.
“Find out everything you can about the facility. Sales records, buyer background, all of it. I’m coming in.”
“There’s something else, ma’am.”
Duchess’s heart fell. After the bomb this man had just dropped, what else could there possibly be?
“What is it?”
“The cleanout team arrived at the Longwing ISOFAC twenty minutes ago. They reported some missing equipment.”
“Such as?”
“I’ve got the itemized list with serial numbers, but for starters, weapons, lasers, suppressors, night vision devices—”
“Got it,” she said. “I’ll be there in forty minutes.”
She hung up and wiped the sleep from her eyes, rising quickly to get dressed.
Gossweiler wasn’t going to miss the Charlottesville killings on the morning news, and she couldn’t risk him finding out about missing Agency equipment from any source besides herself. There was precious little time remaining before he was awake. If she hadn’t taken action by the time that happened, he’d suspect her allowance of, if not outright complicity in, her former targeted killing team taking unsanctioned paramilitary action in the homeland.
So Duchess hurried to her car, beginning the drive to Agency headquarters and considering how to best handle the delicate matter of arresting David and his team.
52
Worthy cruised down the road, his thumb tapping the steering wheel in time with the country song playing on the radio.
The sun was rising, casting its light over the richly forested countryside on either side of the road.
Glancing at his GPS, he knew he was getting close—and rounding a curve a moment later, he saw the load signal in the form of a pair of crossed branches ahead, both lying at the edge of the forest as if they’d fallen haphazardly.
Checking his rearview, Worthy activated his four-way flashers and pulled off to the side of the road. He was prepared to make a go-around in the event of other traffic on the road, but for the moment the coast was clear.
Worthy barely had time to press the unlock button before David lunged out of the trees and wrenched open the back passenger door.
“Go,” he said, as if Worthy would have preferred to loiter around the pickup site until a patrol car cruised past.
Killing his flashers and accelerating back to cruising speed, Worthy texted Ian with news of his successful recovery of their team leader, and then briefly turned to look at the passenger behind him.
Then he returned his eyes to the road, giving a grim shake of his head.
David, to put it lightly, looked like shit. His eyes bore dark circles, face and clothes covered in dirt, looking more homeless drifter than shooter.
“Everyone make it out last night?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Worthy replied. “You were the only—”
“What the hell are you listening to?”
Pausing, Worthy said, “That’s Merle Haggard right there. Want me to turn it off?”
“No,” David said. “Depressing country music is the perfect way to tie up that train wreck of an operation.”
Worthy read between the lines of David’s statement and turned off the car stereo. They rode on in silence for a few moments before Worthy spoke again.
“Looks like you had a rough night.”
“I needed to crush some cardio anyway. How are the guys?”
Worthy sighed. “We spent the night bleaching the blood off our kits, and burning the boots that weren’t going to be clean anytime soon. You and Ian fired the only shots, so Reilly’s down two weapons once we get rid of yours. The one Ian used is already at the bottom of the Rivanna River, along with Cancer’s knife.”
David shook his head. “Cancer loved that knife.”
“Thought that inhuman bastard was going to cry. But I’m sure he’s got plenty more.”
“If Ian or the cops had found anything useful, I’m guessing you would have led with that fact.”
“Yeah, boss, I would’ve. Police didn’t find any rockets. The hard drives haven’t revealed anything suspicious—matter of fact, there’s no digital record of any production at all under the new company, but that could just be because they hadn’t started operations yet.”
“Well, shit. Cancer and Reilly didn’t see anything in the workshop?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. No sign of the launch assembly, or any tubes consistent with rocket size as best as they could tell. But Cancer pulled a phone off the guy he killed.”
“And?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. No contacts, no calls made, so he must have memorized a number and erased the record each time he used it. These guys ran a tight ship. Ian’s working on restoring the phone data, but apparently that can take some time.”
&nbs
p; “I don’t suppose Duchess overlooked our little party last night.”
“Good guess. She’s been calling nonstop.”
“And?”
Worthy looked at David as if he were crazy. “‘And’ nothing. None of us are answering that call, but I’m guessing she’s either seen the local news, or found the ISOFAC cleaned out, or both. But explaining that is your job, boss. Happy Fourth of July, David.”
“Yeah.” His team leader nodded, still facing the window. “Happy Fourth.”
53
Ian looked up from his computer as Worthy and David entered.
David looked like he’d been chewed and spit out from the wrong end of an industrial-sized blender. His green eyes ticked across the team before settling on Ian.
Worthy smiled, placing his hands on David’s shoulders and giving him a light shake.
“Our fearless leader was rode hard and put away wet last night, but he made it back none the worse for wear.”
Cancer stood from his seat and said, “Welcome back, boss.”
David ignored him, and even Reilly, for that matter. Instead he kept a dull, almost threatening stare on Ian.
“What have you found?”
Ian detested the sight of David when he got this way. When pushed to the wall, he assumed a recklessness that had no place in tactical operations—even the way he phrased his inquiry was telling. Not have you found anything, but a demand: what have you found. As if there had better be something, or else.
Fortunately, in the time it had taken Worthy to pick up their last remaining fugitive teammate, Ian had his one and only break so far.
He said, “I’ve finished exploiting deleted information from the captured phone. Whoever this guy was, he was dialing a single number, checking in every hour and deleting the call record afterward. To me, that’s indicative of a stay-behind element, issued phones for the purpose and left in place as early warning in case anyone picked up the trail. Those two guys were probably just hired guns, with no idea who they were working for.”
“Well that’s good,” Cancer said, “because Worthy clubbed the last one to death before we could ask him anything.”
Worthy frowned. “I’ve apologized for that multiple times.”
“Ian,” David cut them off, “what did you find out about the number he was calling?”
“Captured phone is a Missouri area code while the number it was used to dial was an Arizona code; all that means is they established a solid burner network in advance. The key info, however, came from the cell tower records that the calls pinged off of—captured phone was hitting here in Charlottesville every time. But the number it was dialing went through a tower in Fredericksburg.”
“Could it be a false ping, a call relay like we use?”
“Could be,” Ian admitted. “But if you had the technical sophistication to do that, why not use a more distant location?”
“Because a close one is more convincing, that’s why.”
“I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think so. Fredericksburg is pretty strategic.”
David grunted his disapproval. “Fredericksburg is an even smaller pimple on the ass of Virginia than Charlottesville is. I don’t think we’re going to find anything significant for BK to destroy there.”
Ian said, “I told you before that Bari Khan wouldn’t pair the launch assembly with the rockets until he was ready to attack. We don’t know where the rockets made landfall in America, but it’s a safe bet that the launch assembly was fabricated here in Charlottesville. That makes Fredericksburg an almost ideal location to pair the two because it’s located along I-95, and that goes past every major city he could possibly want to attack. If Bari Khan is launching a weaponized semi rig, as I suspect he is, he could drive north to DC, Baltimore, Philly, or New York. If you want to clear out a few city blocks, New York is a hell of a place to do it. Especially if he’s attacking the Freedom Tower.”
“Boss,” Cancer offered, “for the record, I agree with Ian. In lieu of any other meaningful information, and owing to our popularity with the Charlottesville PD at present, I say we get the hell out of town. Take our kit and stage in Fredericksburg until Ian finds another thread for us to follow.”
Ian blinked. “What if I don’t? I can scan the available data, but if I don’t find anything, I don’t find anything.”
Cancer shrugged. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“Neither have I,” David said. “But that’s the best idea I’ve heard so far.”
Then he placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder, gripping it a little too firmly for comfort.
“And you’re a smart guy,” he said, a hint of malice in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just ask yourself what your dad would do.”
As Ian sat there, dumbstruck, the phone beside him began to ring.
He checked the display, then looked at David.
“It’s Duchess.”
54
Duchess’s office phone rang, and she set down her mug of tea to pluck it from the receiver.
“Duchess here.”
A male answered, “I’ve got David Rivers on the secure relay.”
She felt her stomach grow warm—when her first call to David went unanswered, she instinctively assumed he was the suspect-at-large who had fled the metalworking facility. By the time her next half-dozen calls were met with the same fate, she was certain of it.
“Put him through,” Duchess said, “and push his location tracking to my computer.”
“Yes, ma’am. Stand by.”
Duchess saw the invitation window appear on her computer screen and clicked it to see a world map that centered on North America before zooming in on the call origin.
Hearing a click over the phone line, she said, “You’ve been a difficult man to reach.”
David Rivers answered, sounding nonchalant.
“Sorry, slept in this morning. What’s up?”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“At home.”
“No, you’re not. And with your wife out of town, I’d like to think you’re either having an affair or you woke up drunk in a gutter somewhere. Knowing you, I’d suspect the latter.”
She continued watching her computer screen, frowning as the call location was confirmed.
“Hang on.” He paused, then said, “You’re right. Thought it was my house, but this is actually a gutter. But you work for the Christians In Action—shouldn’t you be able to trace this?”
Duchess felt her jaw settle.
“I have, and it’s pinging you in eastern Los Angeles. Since you don’t have the sophistication to reroute a call like that, I’ll take that as hard evidence that Ian is assisting you.”
“Now now, Duchess. Who says I can’t be devastatingly handsome and technically proficient?”
She felt a hot pit of anger welling up in her stomach and rising into her chest.
“I’ve heard some disturbing news about two killings in Charlottesville.”
“I heard about that, too. Murders at a metalworking factory, I think it was. Strange times we live in.”
“Two murders,” Duchess said, “at the business formerly belonging to your wife’s parents. We’re well outside the bounds of coincidence.”
“Was it the same business? Good thing my father-in-law wasn’t present. But just because I live in Charlottesville doesn’t mean I control everything that happens in it. Who knows what criminal miscreants pulled off that stunt.”
“So you’re denying it was your team?”
“Categorically.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m going to need you all to report to the flagpole so you can tell me that while hooked up to a polygraph.”
“Sure, let’s pencil something in after the holiday.”
“I’ll rephrase. The cleanout team arrived to find your ISOFAC devoid of Agency-issued equipment that is currently at large in blatant violation of a mile-long list of legal statutes. You and your men have exactly thirty minutes
to turn yourself over to the authorities, who will detain you until Agency reps arrive to transport you.”
“Or else...what?”
“After hearing your denial, it’s quite clear you have a vivid imagination. So you tell me.”
There was a long pause before David replied, “Instead of being worried about me and my team, maybe you should start looking at why that factory was raided. You could start with a Chinese businessman at the top of the conglomerate who bought the business, then maybe work your way on down to the seller’s next-of-kin listing that bears a strange resemblance to the intel I found in Syria.”
For once, Duchess thought, she and David were in agreement—and while she was mildly impressed that he’d made the connection with Wei Zhao, she wasn’t about to tell him that Zhao’s yacht had already been raided, and was now under exceptionally discreet FBI surveillance as it remained docked at the World Ocean Superyacht Marina in Jacksonville. By now, the boat had been ruled out as a threat; its owner hadn’t, however, and the agents hadn’t seen Zhao for a long enough span of time that Duchess feared he’d somehow slipped their best surveillance efforts.
She said, “My people have scrubbed every hard drive in the factory with the full knowledge and support of the Charlottesville PD. Who are, incidentally, awaiting a location to pick up your team. This is a lawful order, David. If you weren’t involved, then you have nothing to worry about.”
“I denied involvement, Duchess,” David said, “I never said I had nothing to worry about. But I’ll happily reverse course on proclaiming my innocence the second I find something that requires your vast resources to interdict.”
“Stand down, David. There are protocols in place to stop this thing now that it’s reached our shores. Those protocols don’t include you or your team. So be a good little soldier and turn yourself in while you still have the chance. The second this call ends, any leniency I have for your well-intentioned actions is going to fade away, and once it does, I’m going to be severely pissed off.”