by Dave Lacey
Though the craft was quieter and quicker than any he had seen before, it still covered the sounds of the reconnaissance team as they covered the final fifty yards to his snug. They had worried he had heard them earlier, and so had waited until the launch started. Then, confident that their moves would go undetected, they closed in on the target. As Luke sat craning ever further back and up, maintaining his view of the projectile, the team leader gently nuzzled the nose of his Heckler and Koch G363 assault rifle up to the soft piece of flesh at the base of Luke’s right ear, and loudly whispered in his ear, “Don’t move!”
Luke almost cried out loud with surprise, and his terrified eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried in vain to see the source of the instruction. The last of the noise from the launch faded gently into a faint background rumble, removing any last vestige of cover it had provided for the group. Luke’s terror fully took hold as he realised the team consisted of at least six men, all fully armed, all dressed in full kit. He had no idea what to do or say, and he was certain that even if he had he would have been unable to execute either function due to his current state of shock. He didn’t have to speak as it turned out, because the team leader spoke for him.
“Time to get up, nerd, you’re coming with us. And don’t do anything stupid, this is no time for drama.” The gun was moved from the back of his ear, and the speaker took a step back, giving Luke some breathing room.
“I-I-I don’t understand. I haven’t done anything wrong.” Luke stammered, overdosing on adrenaline.
“You don’t need to understand, boy, you just need to do as you’re told. Now, I said get up.” The speaker sounded aggressive now, fuelling Luke’s heightened state of terror. He got very shakily to his feet, his legs feeling like they would not support his weight.
“That’s a good boy. Now, pack up your shit.” He started folding his sleeping bag and camouflage together.
“That’s good. I just love it when civilians play at being soldiers. It gives me a warm feeling inside.” The tension was unbearable; Luke wasn’t sure he could handle it much longer. He could feel their disgust as they looked down at him packing his gear away. Instinct told him his life hung in the balance right now, and a single wrong move or word would seal the deal.
“Get a move on, boy, I ain’t got all night,” the leader sneered.
“Sorry, I’ll be quicker.” Luke grabbed quickly for everything that belonged to him now, desperate not to upset this group of trained killers, his numb fingers fumbling for his belongings, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Was it worth it?” the same soldier asked him.
“Sorry? I don’t follow.” He didn’t stop packing.
“I said was it worth it? Your little blog. Your videos. Was it worth this moment now? When your government takes this much care to hide something from its citizens, don’t you think there’s good reason for that? No, I guess you don’t. You well educated California types know better don’t ya? You know much better than us in-bred hicks?” He gave the quintessential shit-eating grin and leaned forward to look hard at Luke. This was going to end badly; Luke couldn’t see a way out of this.
“Look, I certainly didn’t mean to cause anybody offence. I just came down here because I’m interested in this type of stuff. You’re right, I’m a nerd, and I certainly didn’t know that it’d cause any trouble. Please, I apologise, I’ll do whatever you say.” His terror was clear for all to see. A few of them grinned in the way that only men in a gang with the upper hand can. Two others looked at the ground in embarrassment, or could it be shame, Luke wondered?
“Whadda ya say, boys, is he resisting?” A few of them laughed harshly, though Luke didn’t think it was meant as a joke. He looked imploringly at the two that had, moments before, hung their heads. It was a slim chance, but it was a chance. He wrung his hands.
“Please, I'm not resisting. I’m more than happy to accompany you wherever you want to go.” Luke looked each of them in the eye, hoping to diffuse their bloodlust. The leader’s smile disappeared, and he glanced over Luke’s shoulder at the cliff edge a few yards away.
“Get up, boy.” He took a step toward Luke, his intention clear. He grabbed Luke by the front of his jacket and hoisted him to his feet. “Come with me, shitbrick.” As the team leader gathered himself, ready for the manoeuvre, his radio burst into life.
“Come in, Charlie watch. Come in, Charlie watch. Over.” Luke never thought he would be so delighted to hear a martial command. It broke the spell, the venom in the leader’s eyes vanished, and he released his hold on Luke’s clothing. He turned and spoke into the receiver on his collar.
“This is Charlie watch. Over.”
“Charlie watch, do you have the package? Over.” The leader walked off to finish his communication. One of the watch who had seemed disturbed by events immediately walked toward Luke and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t you say a fuckin’ word,” he muttered to Luke. “Grab your stuff and come with me.” He allowed Luke to pick up his belongings and then led him off toward the team leader. Luke knew he had done so to prevent a continuation of the harassment that had just taken place, and was instantly filled with gratitude for the man whose name remained unknown to him. For the moment, the danger had passed, and he had a feeling if he could just get to the base he would be safe.
***
“Well, how did it go, Mr Rook?” the old man asked.
“Just fine,” Rook replied. “We picked him up on a ridge overlooking the launch site. He wasn’t difficult to find.”
“Does he know anything?”
“It wouldn’t seem so, not so far anyway. We’ve only had him for an hour or so, but the ideas he put forth have been way off the mark. I don’t think he has a clue. On a different note, we may have a problem with one of our own guys down there.”
“In what way? Voss asked quizzically.
“From what the boy says, he felt certain the team leader, Hal Foster, was gonna push him over the rim.”
“I see. And what do you think?”
“I think it's very possible. I’ve never liked him, and I argued against his appointment. We’re hardly whiter than white, but when people are given orders I expect them to follow them.” Rook paused, pinching the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. “It’s simply not acceptable for guys to decide what’s right or wrong. We have a chain of command and it’s there for a reason. You don’t go off reservation.”
“I agree, but what do we do about it?” Voss asked him decisively.
“I think we remove Sutton from the equation.” Rook said.
“My dear Mr Rook, you’re still quite brutal when required. There’s no alternative, of course – he knows too much to allow him to live. And he’s not somebody I imagine we’d have a great deal of use for, so it would not be worthwhile putting him in the holding pen. Decision made. It will also send out a message to his fellow recruits. Very well, make it so.”
“Yes, sir.” As they said their goodbyes, Rook switched his mind to focus on the detective in New York. And wondered if he would heed the warning, or whether he’d need to make the journey north again and see to another issue. Time would tell.
Chapter 41
Maryland, Baltimore.
After talking with the boss, Nick hadn’t waited too long before getting in his car and heading for Baltimore. He arrived at the NSA headquarters three and a half hours later and parked opposite the car park entrance. As he sat and watched the gate, he dialled the number of the director’s office and put on a heavy accent as the phone was answered.
“Hey, doll, is that General Waldron’s office?”
“It sure is. How can I help?”
“I hope you can. I'm here to replace one of the tyres on the general’s car. But hey, this is a big ass car park and I have no idea which car is his. Can you point me in the right direction?” He held his breath, knowing he was taking a chance.
“Well, er, General Waldron never mentioned this was happening...”
The secretary wavered.
“I appreciate that, honey, but I just gotta fit this thing and get movin’. I got three more to do before I'm finished, you know what I'm sayin?” He didn’t think it would hurt to cross his fingers.
“I guess it would be okay. It's a dark blue Jaguar XF.” The general’s secretary gave him the licence plate number and told him where the car was in the vast parking lot. But he wasn’t going into the parking lot; he was going to wait until the general came out, then tail him. If Nick stopped and thought about it, he knew he wouldn’t go through with it. It was all very seat of the pants, and if the general reacted badly it could close the last chapter of his career in the NYPD. Moretti hunkered down and settled in for a long wait, not knowing when Waldron would leave.
***
Burt Waldron was still struggling to come to terms with the death of Barbara Miller and her daughter. He hadn’t been able to grieve immediately; his concern for his children had overwhelmed his sorrow for a number of days after the murders. But now, having assumed his family was safe for the time being, Barbara’s death occupied his thoughts almost full time.
His delight in finding new love after the death of his wife, the joy of discovering a woman as wonderful as Barbara, had come to an abrupt and brutal end. The danger for Burt at the moment, and he was aware of it as if it were another person inhabiting his life, was that he just didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care whether he lived or died.
The danger wasn’t to him, it was to those that had been protecting their secret for the past forty years or more. Because of the way he felt right now, he had analysed the realities of his situation, and had come to the conclusion that they would not kill his children if he was already dead – there would be no point. They didn’t know anything, they couldn’t tell anybody anything, and he didn’t believe that the parties involved were so heinous as to kill innocent people just to make a point.
He had met Rook and had gotten the sense that the man didn’t exactly enjoy what he did. Indeed, Waldron had detected a hint of honour and decency about him – regardless of the fact that he had just informed Burt of the brutal murders of two women.
Because of that, Waldron felt he was right about this. The man wouldn’t kill innocent parties. So far as Burt knew, Rook had only killed those who knew the secret. Another problem was that if he were to reveal to the world what he knew, it would not necessarily benefit mankind. Waldron was experienced and honest enough not to fool himself into thinking he was being noble or benevolent.
If he made any such announcement, it would be made purely out of spite and malice. At present, all that lay between him and a press conference that would alter the balance of the world, was guilt. It was seven thirty in the evening and, worryingly, Waldron had been sat at his desk for two hours with the same thoughts swirling through the upper reaches of his imagination, yet he had still not reached a decision.
Mary, his secretary, had told him about the policeman from New York who called every thirty minutes or so asking to speak with him. He had been tempted on more than one occasion to do so, almost wanting the cop to ask him if he knew what was going on, knowing that if asked, he would tell. Voss had also called him late this afternoon to tell him that the cop had been warned not to pursue his current line of investigation, and that he shouldn’t be bothering Waldron any more. If anything, Waldron was a little disappointed. He had welcomed the chance to unburden himself, the opportunity to cleanse his soul. Mary popped her head around the door.
“Director?” She spoke gently. Burt reluctantly snapped out of his reverie.
“Sorry... Mary, why are you still here? You should have gone home hours ago.” He was embarrassed that he hadn’t even known she was still around.
“That’s okay, sir, I just wondered if you wanted anything. I could get you some dinner,” she offered kindly.
“No, its fine really, I'm fine. You should go home now, Mary.”
“Sir, I go home when you go home,” she said, brooking no argument. He smiled tiredly at her, his head to one side, leaning on his left hand.
“Mary, you’re a marvel. I'm going home in the next five minutes. Please go home.” She nodded and left the room.
Five minutes later, Burt Waldron reversed his Jaguar out of his reserved parking spot and started his journey home to the Chesapeake Beach area. He never saw the headlights come on behind him, or the car pull out and follow him.
***
Moretti followed the general at a safe distance; the fact that he left so late made the task much easier. Nick had rehearsed the conversation over and over in his head for the previous few hours whilst he sat waiting. Now that he was here, he wasn’t exactly certain what he hoped to find, but his instinct told him the general knew something, and Nick needed to know what it was. He didn’t know where the general lived, and he started to worry it could be the other end of the country.
They had been driving for an hour when the Jaguar headed toward the coast, so maybe it wasn’t going to be too bad after all. Another twenty minutes and they were off the main routes and clearly reaching the end of the line. Nick hung back a little more now; there was no point blowing it now he was so close. They started to pass residential properties spaced a few hundred yards apart; this was obviously a pretty exclusive part of the world to live.
Nick’s attention snapped back to the road, but he could no longer see the tail lights in front of him. Panic swept over him for a moment, until he spied lights off to his right. They were on Walnut Avenue, and it looked like they had reached the end of the line. A quick look told Nick it was the general’s car, and he drove on as Waldron climbed out of his sedan, not wanting to stop and give himself away.
Fifty yards on, he stopped the car and killed the lights, calmed by the sudden silence. After ninety minutes or more of road noise, the peace was very welcome, and he savoured it for a few moments before opening his car door. He quickly covered the ground back to the general’s property, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
He needn’t have worried, there was nobody about at nine fifteen on a winter’s evening, so he was at the end of the drive before he knew it. He stood awkwardly and stared at the front door thirty feet away, suddenly full of foreboding that this could be the end of his career. Swallowing his doubts, Nick marched up to the front door, raised his hand to ring the bell and heard a voice behind him.
“Hello. Detective Moretti, I assume?” Nick spun quickly to see General Waldron standing behind him with one foot on the stoop, totally at ease.“You are Detective Moretti aren’t you?” the general asked again.
Nick stammered a response. “Yes. Yes I am. How did you know?”
“Well, my secretary advised me earlier that the man had arrived to replace my tyre. As I never asked anybody to do that, it made me think. I never said anything to Mary – I don’t like her to worry unduly, you understand. After I while, I thought how you hadn’t called for some time and wondered why that was.” The general smiled at Nick. “Eventually I figured it was you, and that you might try to get inside and talk to me. When you didn’t, it seemed possible that you may be outside waiting for me to come out. When I got home, I noticed a car go past. We don’t get too many here at this time of night, so I waited. Then you came,” he finished simply, his hands opened wide to take in the property.
“That’s pretty impressive, sir. And there’s me thinking I was a smooth operator.” Nick smiled, hoping it was ingratiating.
“Don’t worry, son, I'm in the spy business, so I’d have been disappointed to have been caught with my pants down. Shall we walk? I'm not confident we’d be alone inside the house.” Nick frowned in consternation.
“You okay there?” the general called over his shoulder.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, just a little bemused. What did you mean when you said we wouldn’t be alone?”
“All in good time, Detective, all in good time. And please, don’t call me sir, I really don’t deserve that much respect from anybody any more. Call
me Burt.” This was not the man Nick had expected to speak with this evening; this was a broken man.
“Okay, Burt it is. Sir, I'm gonna need to ask you some questions. I know you’re grieving, but there are things about this whole situation that just don’t add up. I don’t believe the senator and her daughter were killed by a rival gang.” Nick rushed his delivery, but it was out there now. To his astonishment, the general laughed a dry, humourless laugh.
“Oh, I know they weren’t, young man. I know exactly what happened. I’ve spent most of the last few days trying to decide what to do about what I know. I heard you’d been dissuaded from pursuing your line of investigation, and if I'm honest I was hugely disappointed. You see I wanted you to find me, and I wanted to have this conversation. If not, it would be too dangerous for me to reveal what I know. Not for me, but for my children. And I must point out to you that if you do decide to listen to me, your life will be in danger. In fact, I would go as far as to say that just looking for me could have risked your safety.” He looked hard at Nick as he spoke these last sentences.
“Yeah? Well, I think I'm prepared to take that risk, Burt. Whatever happened here, a guy I grew up with was killed. In fact, he was cut in half on some railway tracks. So, I have a vested interest in the outcome of this case. Now, please, what the hell is going on?”
***
“What do you mean, you don’t know where he is?” Voss asked his man.
“I mean, in between flying to New Mexico and flying back to New York, we lost him,” Rook answered a little defensively.
“Mr Rook, it isn’t just you is it? I mean, you do have other people working for you don’t you?” Ernestine Rook breathed hard. This was all starting to become a pain in the ass. He hoped and prayed the young cop had just taken a little trip somewhere, rather than paying a visit to the general.
“Yes, I do have other people. But it’s still possible for us to make a mistake, sir. And that’s what this is, a mistake. We’ll find him again,” he vowed.