by T C Miller
“Is good to hear voice of my friend, Jack Morgan. How is everything in Capitol of this decadent nation?”
“Fine. It’d be better if I could hire real pros for my dirty work,” Morgan answered. “I have to tell you, Gregori, Boerman is not working out. I may have to terminate him.”
“I am sad you have difficulties. World has changed. Is hard to trust anybody. Enough small talk, you have located lease properties, yes?”
“I have, and they fit your specs to a T, right down to loading docks inside the warehouses. I take possession under an alias in three days. How soon will you be here?”
“Not even one week. I have small job to complete, then I terminate lease on this hole in way Consortium remembers for many years.”
“Sounds like you’re a man with a plan. Shout at me when you get near Chicago.”
“Shout, what is this ‘shout’?”
“It means call me.” And learn more English.
“Okay, I will shout at you when I am in Chicago.”
Two Miles From the NSA Complex
Justin hissed into the satellite phone. “I urgently require assistance in researching the recent arrival of two people.”
“Wait a minute there, bucko,” the tinny voice drolly responded. “You’re the hotshot NSA guy who’s supposed to tell us what’s going on, not the other way around.”
“Indeed, I am, and I ferret out the best concealed secrets. The difficulties I currently encounter tell me Banner is engaged in nefarious activities.”
“Nefarious? Why do you have to use four-syllable words? Why can’t you talk like normal people?”
“Very well then, I will dumb it down. Out of the blue, the leader of the BlackStar Ops Group and his wife show up here for work, and it appears to be permanent. I cannot find out why they were moved so abruptly since my usual sources have sealed lips. Winfield may be the new Deputy Director.”
“Wait, no…what? Deputy Director? We’ve been waiting for the opposition party to name Marvin Hawkin’s successor and you’re telling me Winfield is the new man? Why haven’t you told us sooner? You’re supposed to keep me informed.”
“As I said, it is a recent event. You would have become aware of the move days sooner if you responded to my request for contact.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t get a request. I contacted you today about another matter.”
“Then I am perplexed. I left messages with our third-party contact per the usual protocol and have awaited a call.” The satellite phone was silent. “Are you still there?”
“Hold on a minute,” the tinny voice commanded. “Call you back in five.” A red light on the phone signaled the end of the conversation.
Six minutes later, Justin’s contact continued without preamble, “Sorry about the delay, I had to check in with the local police. Our third-party contact was found dead in his apartment this morning from multiple gunshots. He’s been there for a few days, which means you’re off the hook. Any idea what’s going on?”
“I never met the man and was unaware of his untimely demise. He was a voice on the phone, as are you.” None of these Consortium people seem real. It could be a dream…or a nightmare. “What are your instructions?”
“None at the moment. I’ll check out a few things and get back to you. In the meantime, find out everything you can about this new Assistant Director. What did you say his name was?”
“Bart Winfield, the colonel who ran the BlackStar
Ops Group until a few days ago.”
“The former Cold War operative Tupelo?”
“I am not privy to his personnel file, so I cannot say. I have been excluded from most information
regarding Winfield and his wife…”
“Petite brunette with a take-charge attitude?”
“I suppose one might describe her thus.”
“Keep an eye on her. She’s every bit as dangerous as her husband. This may change my plans. Call me tomorrow.”
Justin sat motionless and stared out the windshield at the quiet neighborhood. What would an ordinary life be like? He started the engine and pulled away from the curb.
“This guy’s not the sharpest tack in the box, is he?” Joe Glass asked his partner, Bill Barnes. They sat two blocks behind Justin in the back of a van with advertisements for a fictitious plumbing company on the sides. A couple of ladders and lengths of PVC pipe on the roof rack served well as props. “What do you mean?”
Bill glanced up from the sports section of the Post.
“This is the third time this month he’s come out to the same neighborhood. Usually, it would mean the guy’s getting a little lunchtime action, except he never gets out of the car and nobody joins him.”
“Could be one of those guys who likes to get away from his desk to decompress.”
Joe chuckled. “Decompress? Are you going New Age on me? Where’d you pick that up?”
“Don’t remember. Anyway, what’s your point about this Todd guy?”
“Not sure. Just seems like a weird little duck who’s doing out-of-the-ordinary things. I wonder if maybe we should file a report?”
“Up to you, Sparky, but you write it.”
Joe sat in thought for a moment, wet the end of his pencil and mumbled, “What’s a six-letter word for fowl?”
***
Chapter Six
Wyoming Highway 487, North of Medicine Bow
Jake crouched next to the crippled Blazer for cover. “You were right about rifle shots taking out the tires.”
“Can’t hide anything from you, can I?” Joanna replied, with a grin. A dull thud announced the arrival of another round into the dash, and she flinched. “There goes the comm gear. So, partner, what’s the plan?”
“We move across the highway and find better cover. These hombres picked this spot for a reason. Nobody around, and help’s too far away to get here fast. Did you see the winding driveway a mile or so back that led up to a steel building?”
“I did, but it didn’t seem big enough to be a house.”
“Could be a line shack for a livestock operation or an equipment shed. It may be our only option since the radios are shot…”
Joanna grinned. “Nice pun.”
“Unintentional, believe me. My cell phone says no signal. Anybody got service?”
“I haven’t had any bars since we went through Medicine Man, Medicine Lodge, or whatever it was,” Star replied.
“Medicine Bow,” Licia corrected her. “Wasn’t much there.”
“Most county mounties come out to isolated areas like this only in emergencies,” Joanna said.
“I’d say this qualifies,” Jake replied. “Hard to call them without a signal. Let’s head toward the steel building. It may have a landline or a radio.”
Licia broke in. “Did you forget about the sniper?”
“Not hardly. I saw gullies across the road heading toward the building. Joanna and I will cover you while you get across, and we’ll follow. Keep your heads down until we join you. Then we’ll look for a likely trail.”
Star mumbled from a squatting position in front of the rear wheel, “I don’t know if I can….” “Which part?” Joanna asked.
“Any of it. I’m not good at physical stuff.”
“Are you good at dying? Because that’s what may happen if we stay here. Sooner or later, the bad guys will come charging down here, looking for somebody to waste.”
“My legs are frozen….”
Licia scowled. “We haven’t been out here that long, and you’re wearing ski gear.”
“Not the cold. I’m afraid my legs won’t work, and I’ll fall down.”
“Look, Honey,” Joanna said. “I understand you’re afraid. We all are….”
“Except you and Jake don’t look scared.”
“Mostly due to our training. We concentrate on solving tactical issues and don’t have time to be afraid.” Joanna softened her tone, “Come on, baby
girl, let’s get you up and across
the road.”
“I…I can try.”
“Which is all any of us can do,” Licia said.
Joanna smiled and nodded. “Ain’t that the truth.”
Office of the Deputy Director, NSA Fort Meade, MD
Nora Winfield picked up a plain brown-paper wrapped parcel from the secretary’s desk and walked into Bart’s office. “Do you have a secret admirer already?” She stood in front of his desk holding the nondescript package.
“Mornin,’ Darlin,” Bart replied without looking up. “Let me sign this, and I’ll be right with you.” He inked his name to the signature block and looked up. “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I…uh, this was on your secretary’s desk, so I brought it in. Why?”
“It wasn’t cleared by the mail room. There’s no
Correspondence Security sticker on it.”
Nora’s eyes grew wide. “I forgot. What do you want me to do?”
“Set it down on the desk and let’s get out of here now.”
Nora carefully placed the package on the corner of
the desk. Bart positioned her in front as they ran for the door.
“Faster.” He closed the door behind them.
His secretary walked in the outer door from the hallway carrying a strawberry smoothie and a bran muffin from the cafeteria. She froze in place at the sight of her boss and his wife running toward her.
Bart spun Jane around. “Out, now.”
The trio rushed into the corridor and Bart pushed them to the side.
He turned to close the door when a muffled explosion rattled the walls and sent deep vibrations through the floor. A cloud of dust and smoke containing bits and pieces of the inner office door billowed into the corridor.
“Man, that was closer than stink on a skunk,” Bart exclaimed as he brushed dust and debris off his clothes.
Jane stood with shoulders slumped and a vacant stare. Her arms hung limply at her side, and splashes of strawberry smoothie and muffin crumbs stained her sweater. She coughed to clear her throat. “Would somebody please tell me what’s going on?”
“What?” Bart stuck a finger in each ear and wiggled them to clear the hollow ringing sound caused by the blast. His hearing slowly returned to the sound of beeping fire alarms.
Jane repeated the question.
“Nora, this is my new secretary, Jane Maracek. It’s her first day on the job. Jane, bless your heart, you might could be in a little bit of shock after that rude welcome. We should get you to the infirmary to be checked out.”
Bart glanced at the security badge hanging from a bystander’s neck. “Excuse me, uh, Bob?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you be so kind as to escort Miss Maracek to the infirmary?”
Bob appeared dazed and took a moment to
respond, “Uh, sure, be glad to, I guess.”
He took Jane’s arm to lead her toward the elevator.
“Not the elevator,” Bart admonished him. “Might not be safe.” He avoided using words that might cause panic, like bomb, explosive, or device.
“Oh yeah, right, of course,” Bob turned Jane around, and they moved toward a stairwell.
Brilliant white strobe lights every thirty feet flashed warnings through a dusky haze. People with puzzled looks emerged from other offices further along the corridor. The smell of burnt office fixtures, carpet and ceiling tiles hung heavily in the air.
“Evacuate the building, folks,” Bart announced in a commanding voice. “Proceed to your assembly points outside as soon as possible.”
Dazed office workers gravitated toward Bart but turned away as his words registered.
“Stay calm and follow the evacuation plan,” he said in a softer tone. His voice carried an unmistakable tone of authority, even when quiet. The workers milling in the hall shuffled along plush carpet toward the emergency exits.
Bart turned to Nora. “Join them if you’d like.”
Nora stared at him. “Puh…lease, big guy. I’m not leaving without you, and did you forget I’m an agent, too?”
“Suit yourself, my love.” Bart put his arms around her in a loving embrace.
“Besides, I sort of feel responsible.”
“Don’t blame yourself, baby. The bomber was counting on an unsuspecting person moving the package. They had no idea it’d be you. It may have had a backup timer besides a motion sensor. Could have gone off no matter what.”
“Yes, but I carried the thing right to you without hesitating. We’re here less than a week, and I’m losing my edge.”
“Which turned out to be a good thing. It might have gone off after Jane got back to her desk. You may have saved her life and mine, too.”
Firefighters entered the hallway from each end and approached the blast site. One, who wore the white helmet of an on-scene commander, peered into the demolished office suite. “Anybody in there when it went off?”
“No, thanks to my alert husband,” Nora replied.
“And my capable wife,” Bart added.
“Good work, folks. I’m Mike Woods, Fire Department Shift Commander. Any idea what caused the blast?”
“Package left on my secretary’s desk.”
“That so? We got word it was a gas leak. So, it wasn’t an accident?”
“About as far from it as you can get.”
“Any idea who the target was?”
“More’n likely me,” Bart quietly answered.
“Well, that puts a whole new spin on things. I’ll get Arson up here right away.” Woods used the portable radio clipped to his belt. “By the way, Deputy Director, welcome to headquarters.”
Bart and Nora sat on a sofa across from John Banner’s desk, sipping coffee and tea.
“Any thoughts on who’s behind this?” Banner asked in a calm voice.
“I have a few,” Bart answered. “Although it seems strange it would happen so soon. I don’t imagine that many people know we’re here.”
“This is DC, and I had to notify Congress before appointing you to the position. And, as I mentioned before, the gossip mill here is strong.”
Bart nodded. “Back to your question, only a handful of people hate me enough to kill me, and most of them are in prison. A list of the ones who aren’t includes Seawind Bay criminals, smugglers, Rick Eichner, and his people, and Jack Morgan, if he’s actually alive.”
“Why Morgan?”
“You mean besides exposing his corruption, ending his DEA career, and forcing him to fake his death and go on the run?”
“I see what you mean, but does he have the
resources to pull off an attack like this?”
“He might could, but it’s hard to say for sure. It looked like he led the mercenaries during the attack on Cheyenne Mountain. We only made eye contact for a second, but I got a look of pure hatred from somebody I never met.”
Banner shuffled through a stack of file folders until he found one in particular. “One of our sources reported seeing a guy in Maryland he thought was Morgan. Said he moved toward him, but the guy vanished into thin air. He’s a credible witness since he and Morgan worked together for a dozen years at the DEA.”
“Morgan may have gone off the deep end. He’s had major setbacks this year that could go a long way toward explaining today’s bomb. But why would he have such a big beef with me? I was only one of two-dozen agents at Seawind Bay. Why focus on me?”
“Capturing and interrogating him is the only way to find out for sure. You need to bring him in as soon as possible, no matter what it takes.”
“What about the mole?” Nora asked. “They may have alerted Morgan to our presence here.”
“Good point,” Banner noted. “Finding the mole may lead us to Morgan, or vice-a-versa. I’ll leave the details to you two, but keep me informed. I should also add, good work today.”
“Thanks, boss,” Bart said. “I’d go back to my office now if it wasn’t knee-deep in shredded debris and dust. Oh, man! They got my favorite Air War College co
ffee mug. I’m getting real tired of the bad guys destroying my office. Cheyenne Mountain, and now here, it’s getting old.” He thought about the cleanup and repair of the extensive damage, and the weeks or months it would take.
“You can share my office while Building Services finds you a suitable space. We also need to increase security for you. Problem is, the people behind this may have compromised our security force. Any suggestions?”
“Matter of fact, yes. We can trust Carl Dean, so how about you let him supervise security for Nora and me?”
“Sounds okay by me,” Banner answered. “Anybody else?”
“It’d be great if you could free up Bob Onkst and Ted Belk, along with TRT One. Unless you want Nora and me to live in the building, we’re going to need security here and at the condo, at least until we catch the perps.”
“I’ll give the orders to Ops. This is an attack on the very core of the NSA, and demands immediate and decisive action.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Bart said as he stood and shook hands with the Director. “I’ll go see what I can salvage from my office.”
Wyoming Highway 487, North of Medicine Bow
“We can’t stay here much longer,” Jake whispered to Joanna. “Perps could move in at any time.”
“Or the girls could become frozen with fear,” she replied.
“Or just plain frozen. I’m not too concerned about Licia, but Star may be a problem.
“Listen up, girls,” Jake said. “I won’t sugarcoat this, someone in those trees wants to do some serious damage to us.”
“Why would anybody want to kill me?” Star asked in a trembling voice.
“I didn’t say they want to kill you. Matter of fact, the sniper had a good chance when we pulled over and didn’t follow through.”
Joanna broke in, “Maybe they couldn’t see into the truck through the tinted windows.”
“Windows don’t stop rifle rounds.”
“True, but the perps couldn’t see who was behind the glass. They wouldn’t want to kill the wrong people.”