by T C Miller
Morgan finally spoke in clipped phrases, “Get it straight, Yancy, I don’t work for any government. My services go to the highest bidder. Right now, that’s you. Don’t make me change my mind.”
“I meant….” Gregori realized the call abruptly ended and the light was red. His finger was poised over the redial button when he realized a callback would make him appear weak.
He returned the phone to the holster on his belt, retrieved an UZI from the office and strode toward the door. “Day of reckoning awaits, Mister High-And-Mighty Jack Morgan,” he mumbled. Minutes later, Yancy watched the mine fade into the distance in the rearview mirror.
Office Of The NSA Director
John Banner scanned the faces of the dozen division chiefs seated at a highly-polished walnut conference table for the daily staff meeting. “Why has it taken two days for me to find out about this?” he asked in a slow, stern voice.
No one answered. A few fidgeted with ink pens or felt an intense urge to check notes from previous meetings.
He met the eyes of each person in turn and continued, “I see a lot of shrugs and blank stares. You’ve been around me long enough to know I expect prompt answers to my questions.”
“Well, uh…Director,” a rotund, balding man in his late fifties began in a timid voice. “It came in as a robbery gone bad.”
“McIlhenny, head of Internal Investigations, isn’t it?”
Sweat was visible on the shiny pate of the career bureaucrat. “Y…yes, sir.”
“A robbery gone bad? Did the two dead agents belong to you?”
“Yes, Director.”
“Let me see if I got this right. An unknown person, or persons, casually strolls up to their vehicle and shoots both of them? How can two experienced agents be caught off guard like that? What were they working on, and why were they in a residential area?”
“They may have been taking a lunch break.”
“May have been? Aren’t they required to report their status?”
“Yes and no, sir. My agents have a certain amount of leeway when conducting an investigation.”
“Which brings us back to my other question, what was the nature of the investigation?”
“They were conducting routine low-level surveillance of an NSA employee. I don’t understand why anyone would kill them.”
“Who was the subject?”
“Well, um, sir, your assistant.”
“You suspected Justin of illicit activities, and you didn’t tell me?”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but I didn’t have enough information to present to you. We investigate personnel who leave the building during the workday to make sure they’re not involved in illegal activities.”
Banner leaned back in the executive office chair. “I understand, but doesn’t the murder of two agents in a residential area strike you as suspicious?”
“It does, but I have to wait for a report from DC police before proceeding.”
“Why?”
“I know you’re relatively new in DC, but we have established protocol we’ve followed for decades to avoid stepping on the district’s toes. We wait for them to send us a report.”
Banner shook his head. “My gut tells me there’s more to this than a robbery gone south. Get the facts ASAP, even if you have to contact the Chief of DC
Police directly.”
“That will certainly ruffle some feathers.”
“I don’t care. I want answers ASAP, not next week, understood?” Banner glared at the visibly uneasy man. “Get a report by close of business today or pack your desk. Do I make myself clear?”
“Y…yes, D…Director, quite clear. I’ll get on it r…right after this meeting….”
“Meeting’s over for you, and don’t stop anywhere on the way, including the men’s room.”
McIlhenny muttered under his breath and shuffled papers on the table as he stuffed them into a twelve-hundred-dollar rhinoceros-skin briefcase.
“Now, McIlhenny,” Banner said in a low voice.
McIlhenny tucked the partially opened case under his arm with random corners of paper sticking out and scurried from the room.
Marston Ranch Entry Building
“Where does noise come from?” Sasha asked.
“Why do you ask me?” Pyotr replied.
They stared past the equipment toward the far end of the building. Both drew weapons and Pyotr moved toward the sound. Sasha hung back for a moment, then followed.
A three-foot wide section of the back wall held slickers, hats, and other outdoor gear on coat hooks. A hidden hinge on one side squealed as the other end slowly opened.
Pyotr moved to the opening side and motioned for Sasha to take the hinge end.
Mary Marston held on to the edge of the hidden door as she cautiously peeked out. “John, sweetheart, is that you?” She saw Sasha standing an arm’s length away and yanked on the door to close it.
Sasha grabbed the edge and pulled it toward him.
Mary spit in his face and pulled harder.
The sharp edge of the hidden door pinched Sasha’s fingers, and he howled in pain while trying frantically to free his fingers.
Mary realized she couldn’t close the door with the fingers in the way. She loosened her grip slightly, and the door opened a crack.
Sasha quickly pulled his fingers back and held them in front of him while issuing a torrent of swear words in Russian.
Mary was startled by the sound of a foreign language and froze for a moment.
Pyotr seized the opportunity to shove the barrel of his pistol through the crack. “Let go of door or I shoot you in face.”
“Okay, don’t shoot,” Mary yelled back. Why didn’t I bring my gun? She let go of the door and kicked it hard.
It struck Sasha’s hands, and he howled in pain again as he bent over and blocked the entrance.
Mary backed away from the door, but realized too late she couldn’t hit the panic alarm button without moving toward the two men. She turned and started down the steps to the house.
Pyotr flung Sasha to the side and stepped onto the landing inside the door.
Mary was already down three steps when Barkley, their Irish Setter, came bounding up the stairs from the house with his tongue hanging out. She moved to step around him, but he blocked her progress.
“Stop running, lady,” Pyotr commanded.
Mary felt the cold hard steel of a gun barrel thrust against her back and froze in place.
Barkley gazed up at her with his head tilted to one side, looking for attention. “Fat lot of good you are,” Mary mumbled. “Should have gotten a German
Shepherd or a Rottweiler.”
Executive Suite, NSA Headquarters
“Look, lady, we’re here to upgrade your air
conditioning system. I got the work order right here.”
Randy, according to the embroidered patch above his shirt pocket and the fake ID badge on a lanyard around his neck, looked down in frustration at a worn clipboard. “I got no idea why nobody told you we was gonna be here today.”
“Where’s Jason?” the matronly woman with carefully coiffed champagne and silver hair asked. The smell of Shalimar formed a protective cloud around Marge Vandeveer, gatekeeper for the Executive Wing, and John Banner’s personal secretary. Nobody got past her without intense scrutiny.
Randy coughed and nearly gagged from the perfume. “Called in sick the third time this week.” He held his breath and leaned in a little closer. “Between me, you and the fence post, he keeps this up, he’s looking for another job.” He pantomimed taking a drink of whiskey.
“Jason’s such a nice young man. Tell him I hope he gets well soon.”
“I will, lady, next time I see him.”
The Jason they were referring to sat on a barstool in a sleazy dive near downtown Baltimore. The two grand he had been given was nice, but Jason liked the sick time off even more. It started when a man plopped down next to him at the bar a week ago and struck up a convers
ation. Jason preferred to drink alone, but tolerated the intrusion after the stranger bought him a few beers.
Jason stared mindlessly at a hockey game on a tiny TV mounted above the bar as the stranger talked about their jobs.
He realized after a minute the stranger was asking him a question. “Sorry, dude, didn’t catch the last part.”
“Paul…my name is Paul.”
“Sure, uh, Paul. What were you asking me?”
Paul took another swig of beer and leaned in toward Jason. “You said you work in the main building now and then, and I got a buddy who needs to get in there. His girlfriend works on the third floor, and he wants to spring a proposal on her.”
“I ain’t much of a romantic, but I understand what you gotta do when it comes to women. First, he’d have to get past the gate guards….”
“Not a problem. He works for the agency, too, just not in the admin building. Wants to hide in an equipment room dressed up in a gorilla suit and surprise her.”
“I imagine that’d do it, all right. Still, I don’t….”
Paul quickly continued, “It means so much to him, he’s willing to give you a grand for your trouble.”
“A thousand bucks, huh? And all I gotta do is take a couple days off?”
It occurred to Jason more than a proposal might be planned, but he didn’t care. Lately, he didn’t care about anything. Let them fire me, there are plenty of jobs out there for a guy with my skills and security clearance. Jason was fed up with the monotonous routine. “Sure, why not? And you’re right, I won’t need my keys if I ain’t there.”
“You got it, and here’s five hundred as a down payment.”
Jason took the five one-hundred-dollar bills, peeled one off and shoved the rest in his pocket. A vague feeling of uneasiness washed over him for a moment, but he ignored it.
He slammed the hundred down on the bar and motioned to the barmaid at the other end. “Hey, Susie, how’s about a fill-up down here? May as well have one, too, while you’re at it. And keep ‘em coming, I feel like getting blitzed.”
“Well, it looks like your paperwork is in order,” Marge said as she smiled at Randy. “It must be okay since Security cleared you into the building. Utility closet is down the hall, last door on the left.”
Randy smiled and winked at her as he and his assistant picked up their toolboxes and strolled away. He whistled an old show tune to annoy the other man.
They reached a door with a bright red and yellow high-voltage warning sign. Randy inserted the key Jason had coughed up into the lock and pushed it open. Sign should keep snoops away, which is good. I get real nervous when working with this stuff.
Ravine Near Marston Ranch
Joanna walked back along the trail and searched for
the shiny object she spotted only after they passed it. She didn’t want to delay Doc and the girls from getting to the safety of his home.
Joanna found a broken compass and bent down to retrieve it. When she looked up, three men came around a bend in the trail.
She turned to run and collided with a fourth man who dropped from the hill above.
Boris had skillfully tracked Joanna from a hidden trail above. The bearded mercenary leered at her with rotted teeth between chapped lips. He rose a foot above her and held a device slightly larger than a garage door opener.
Joanna’s rifle was too long with him so close. She reached for her personal sidearm in a leg holster when an explosion of lights and a bone-jarring shock jerked her body rigid. Joanna had no control over muscle function and collapsed to the rocky ground. The last thing she remembered was the smell of ozone, and fetid breath as the mercenary loomed over her.
Side Street Near The NSA Complex
Justin took a long pull on a cigarette and tried to remain calm as he spoke into the encrypted satellite phone, “Was killing the two agents necessary?”
“It wouldn’t have been if you’d made sure no one followed you,” the controller replied.
“I observed the correct protocol.” He did not like this new controller. The old one was more sympathetic to the precarious conditions under which he worked. Still, he understood why they fired the old controller. You simply cannot sleep with your boss’s wife without consequences. It also explained why Justin had no personal relationships. No close friends ensured less chance of entanglement.
He took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice, “Those buffoons tracked me before, and it got them nothing. Questions are now being asked, due to your lackey's impulsive behavior….”
“They were there to protect you, and before you stick your foot in your mouth, I ordered them to eliminate the threat. Besides, the word I have from my friends in the local police department is it looked like a robbery gone bad like I planned.”
“Why did you feel compelled to intervene?”
“My job is to make sure you don’t bumble your way into compromising situations. Plus, it’s no concern of yours….”
“I beg your pardon, sir, it is indeed my concern, particularly when it has the potential to unmask me.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look, you should be happy I protected you, and it’s not important anyway since you won’t be on this assignment much longer.”
“I will not?”
“Banner’s made it too hard for you to gather the information we need. I know from experience it won’t get any better as long as he’s Director.”
Justin checked the rearview mirrors and scanned the area around him. Will they permanently terminate me? He had visions of his bullet-riddled body floating face down in the Potomac. He was hypersensitive to his surroundings now and checked the rear view mirror again.
A red-haired man in work clothes sat behind the wheel of a white plumbing van a block behind him eating a sandwich and reading a newspaper. Another man stepped between the seats and sat on the passenger side. He stared directly at Justin with a piercing look.
Justin was startled by the way the stranger locked eyes with him. He started the car and pulled away from the curb. The street ended in a cul-de-sac a block later. He turned around and headed toward the mysterious van.
The passenger in the white van nudged the driver, who glanced over the paper with a surprised look and dropped a sandwich in his lap. He backed into a parked car as he feverishly worked to turn the cumbersome van around in the narrow street. The passenger pounded on the dash like a madman and screamed as Justin sped past them, and turned down a side street.
Justin watched the mirror as the van raced after him. It barely slowed as it hit a speed bump and all four wheels became airborne.
A tinny voice screamed from the phone on the console. “What are you trying to do, get yourself killed? My men say you’re driving like a maniac.”
Justin looked for escape routes ahead. “Why are they following me?” he growled.
“They’re protecting you, “ the controller screamed.
“I can do quite well on my own, thank you. Tell your goons to back off.”
“Can’t do that. I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“By drawing attention to me? I work better when I am anonymous.”
“Everybody needs backup now and then. Calm down and let my men do their job.”
“I do not like you meddling and require time to contemplate recent events. I am returning to my office.”
“Good, you’ll be safe while we check out a few things.”
I’ll also be safe from you and your bumbling minions. He watched as a black Mercedes pulled up beside the surveillance van. The passenger side window lowered and gunfire from inside the sedan ruptured the front tire of the van.
The van swerved and scraped a parked car, causing it to reverse direction. It clipped the Mercedes, sending both vehicles into a wild spin. The van slid sideways in the narrow street and skidded to an abrupt stop, blocking traffic in both directions. The Mercedes driver couldn’t get around the disabled van and pounded the steering wheel in frustration.
Justin t
urned down a cross street and watched the mirror. There was no sign of either vehicle a mile later.
A guard at the gate to the NSA complex checked Justin’s ID ten minutes later and waved him in. He parked in his personal space in the first row of a side-entrance to the main building. It was one of many perquisites he enjoyed as Executive Administrative Assistant to the Director. He would miss the parking spot with his name on it.
Justin’s shoulders sagged as he scurried toward the entrance. He had crucial decisions to make in the hours ahead, and nothing seemed normal anymore. His heart pounded, and his stomach hurt. He took one last puff of the cigarette and deposited in a standup receptacle before heading into the building.
Marston Ranch
Doc used the grove of trees surrounding the entrance building to hide the trek toward the cave. He still hadn’t figured out exactly what was happening, much less why.
Two hours ago, he made a routine house visit to a client and friend who was dead. Another neighbor met the same fate. The useless killings made no sense.
The federal agents seemed real, but the events they triggered were a mystery. Events he witnessed in the last half-hour along the isolated stretch of highway didn’t happen to ordinary people. He needed to sit down with Mary and solve the puzzle.
“How far is the cave?” Licia asked above the howling wind.
“We’re only twenty yards away. You can’t see the entrance until you’re right on top of it. It’s behind those boulders so we can spot anybody coming up.”
Licia moved up closer. “Looks like you had good advice laying out your property.”
“My parents moved out here when the area was still part of the wild and woolly West. Although, I don’t recall anything happening that was even remotely like this. In fact, I’ve never heard of such a thing, except in the movies.”
“You seem to be handling it well.”
“Yes and no. My veterinary training taught me to handle emergencies calmly. We also tend to take care of emergencies out here without help. My dad used to say firemen would get here in time to wet down the ashes, and the sheriff would come out to haul off the body. You take care of it yourself, or it doesn’t get done.”