Lethal Authority (Wade Hanna Series Book 2)

by Joseph D'Antoni

  As fast as the images had come, they slowed and disappeared. Wade took another deep breath, not knowing what he was supposed to do with the trapped memories. His mother had been dead now for several years, yet she stood out among the images next to him speaking in a loud voice about his upcoming journey; then it became a whisper and disappeared with the other images.

  He acknowledged the spirit from childhood that had just paid him a visit. Though he tried to shake off his experience, he remained staggered by the spiritual power of whatever had just happened. There was no message about how his upcoming journey would end - just that he would have company along the way.

  Chapter 5

  A few days after returning from the swamp, Wade made a call to Jenkins. In a cordial but unrevealing response, Jenkins said he wanted to schedule their next meeting at the Wave Restaurant because of the probability of inclement weather. The bureaucrat was hurried and short with Wade, clearly unwilling to chat.

  After a few more moments of contemplation Wade felt Jenkins had been dismissive, and that fact didn’t sit well. Perhaps Jenkins’ demeanor was a way of preparing Wade for bad news. At least he was going to tell him in person rather than over the phone. Wade wondered if there was anything he could do to prepare for the meeting.

  Wade began to assume the worst and prepared himself in advance for an unwelcome response. Time in the swamp had allowed him to focus on a Plan B option, which was what kept him going. Just knowing there was a Plan B anchored him. If I can get the Navy to do my shoulder surgery and rehab, it would give me at least another twelve months before they could deploy me for undersea service.

  He kept reciting his Plan B option to himself. It wasn’t that bad. Everything was going to be just fine. The Plan B alternative wasn’t ideal, but neither was deploying for sea duty in the next six months, or staying in New Orleans. Under Plan B, assuming he could avoid being seen by the mob in New Orleans, perhaps he could go to an out-of-state college and have the Navy do his surgery. This would give him another year before he could be called to sea duty.

  He might even call back Commander Benson and take Captain Hodges’ offer. Perhaps college was not going to happen for Wade right now. Regardless of how events turned out, though, he couldn’t stay in New Orleans any longer. Wade kept his affirmations positive: Everything is going to work out fine.

  At the last meeting, Wade had presented Jenkins with a detailed outline of what he wanted in order to work for the Intelligence Agency. He felt the outline was fair to both parties, while capturing what he needed in order to be part of the dangerous world of intelligence work.

  But proposals were behind him now. He didn’t know if he would even have the chance to respond to Jenkins’ questions, assuming he had any. At this point everything was in the government’s hands, and they controlled the rules of hire. Jenkins would unfortunately be the only “government” in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  The Wave Restaurant was set back from the road, nestled in the corner of an oyster shell lot across the water inlet from the lighthouse where West End turned into the yacht club.

  Jenkins and Hanna arrived at the same time and proceeded to an isolated table at the back of the largely-empty restaurant. The heavily nautical motif emphasized seafood but also life under the sea – an environment Wade was trying to forget.

  Images of sharks and undersea plant life seemed real behind the polished brass portholes lining the wall. The underwater scene made you feel you were looking out from a sunken ship’s hull. Several large aquariums with colorful fish complemented the wall décor, suggesting guests might be swimming with the fishes.

  Thoughts of his near-death undersea experience caused Wade to wonder if Jenkins had purposely selected the restaurant for its subliminal messages. The undersea images did seem to have some effect on Wade as he fought flashbacks of his Prowfish experience.

  Seafood gumbo was the house specialty, and both men ordered a large bowl. The waitress first brought freshly-baked French bread. Both men reached for slices before the waitress’s basket rested on the table between them.

  Jenkins seemed sullen and unusually quiet, giving no indication of the government’s position or how this discussion would proceed. His stoic posture suggested there would be no celebration at this meal. Wade thought he would break the ice with some small talk. He knew Jenkins’ travel schedule must be grueling and thought the subject might conjure easy stories to share.

  “Do you travel much?”

  “A bit.”

  “Where do you normally travel?”

  “All over.”

  Jenkins wasn’t in a sharing mood. They finished the rest of their delicious gumbo in silence before Jenkins stiffened his posture even further. Caught off guard by this new “official posture,” Wade wondered what he was about to say.

  The stiffened posture projected bureaucratic authority, which seemed a bit misplaced in the dark corner of an almost-empty restaurant. The only audience was Wade and perhaps a passing waitress, so it was hardly the place for a public announcement.

  Jenkins cleared his throat several times, calling attention to his uncomfortably erect posture.

  “I think we should get this meeting started.”

  With that announcement, Wade expected to hear a drum roll, but there was no drummer in sight. He couldn’t figure out what the hell Jenkins had in mind and why he thought it was necessary to give a formal announcement that the meeting was starting. What are all the theatrics about?

  Instead of speaking, Jenkins pulled some papers from his briefcase as though he were testifying before a congressional hearing. Positioning the documents upright, Jenkins created a white paper wall between himself and Wade. For some reason he held the papers as if to discourage Wade from grabbing them. The thought of reaching for the documents hadn’t even occurred to Wade.

  The last expression on Jenkins’ face was resolute as he disappeared behind his newly constructed paper wall. Jenkins read in silence, clearing his throat every few minutes as a reminder of his importance.

  After a long silence Jenkins finally lowered the paper wall. He stared into the empty restaurant as though trying to reconcile some complex legal dilemma in the text. Wade waited patiently, focusing on the tableware.

  Wade wasn’t about to give Jenkins the satisfaction of showing either anticipation or fear, although both were crossing his mind at the same time. For the third time he smiled and craned his head toward the cute waitress checking silverware placement at empty tables.

  Jenkins was either having fun at his expense or was enjoying the importance of his own power for some perverse reason. Perhaps the old bureaucrat was making the best of the remaining few authoritarian roles he had left in an otherwise thankless career.

  For no obvious reason, and without further dramatics, Jenkins broke the silence.

  “I have good news to report. The government has accepted your proposal as written.”

  With Jenkins’ long-awaited comment Wade offered a guarded smile. He stifled a happy cry and hid the frustration Jenkins had just put him through.

  Wade simply responded, “I’m pleased the government found my position acceptable. What’s next?”

  After reshuffling papers in his hand, Jenkins answered while handing Wade several typed pages. “I have a draft employment contract for you to consider. Your outline is attached as Exhibit A to the contract. Please take a moment to review the agreement and take whatever time you need to have your attorney review it.”

  The agreement had been prepared in detailed legalese. To Wade it sounded both governmental and official, and after quickly reviewing the document, he looked up at Jenkins.

  “I understand most of this, but I’m going to have our family attorney check it over.”

  “You can have your attorney call me with any questions. If I don’t have the answer, I’ll have someone from our legal department get back to him.”

  Wade sat back in disbelief. It finally sank in that despite
all his fears, his Plan A had succeeded. This meant he would soon be employed by the Agency, his college education costs covered, his complicated shoulder surgery paid for, and he would receive his intelligence training – and all of this out of town and out of reach of the New Orleans mob.

  Outwardly Wade maintained his reserved demeanor with Jenkins. A few questions were asked and answered about certain paragraphs referencing training locations and dates.

  “If there’s anything vague in timing or schedules, it’ll have to be worked out as you move forward in the program.”

  “I understand. What Agency group will I actually be working for if I sign this?”

  Jenkins’ response was evasive. “That depends on what project you’re assigned to. It could be any one of several intelligence organizations.”

  Jenkins saw Wade recoil from his answer.

  “You see, the program you’re coming into is new – well, new in the sense that the government wants to consolidate intelligence training activities and control costs. The government’s feeling is that there’s too much empire building between different organizations and not enough sharing of resources, cooperation, or coordination in performing intelligence work.”

  After pausing, Jenkins continued. “This administration wants to see divisional walls broken down and organizations utilizing people across lines, all with the same core skills. It’s a new concept and something internal politics hasn’t fully embraced. I suspect it will take some time before it’s fully implemented. Most new Agency recruits will come in under the new system with the same training you will receive.”

  “Under the program, you’ll be accessible to any one of three or four intelligence organizations. I know that may not satisfactorily answer your question, but it’s truthful, and all that I can go into for now. Perhaps we can have another chat if you decide to sign the contract.”

  As the two men approached the front door, the rain pounded the green metal canopy over the restaurant. Ominous gray clouds in the far southern skies showed no signs of dissipating.

  “I have a lot of traffic to fight before my next meeting,” said Jenkins.

  “I’ll be back in touch as soon as I meet with the attorney.”

  The two men shook hands before ducking under large black umbrellas and moving quickly across the wet parking lot in different directions, toward their cars.

  It didn’t take Wade long to choose a medium-sized college located in a quiet Alabama town near three military air bases. His intelligence training schedule required him to be at one of those bases to fly out of, almost every weekend and even on holidays. The Agency came through on his transfer out of the Navy into the intelligence service. No more submarine classes or worries about being called back to sea duty. He just had to manage the next six years of his life between college and intelligence training, spending the last two years of his contract in full-time service with the Agency.

  The quiet, laid-back town of Greenstone, Alabama suited Wade just fine. It wasn’t long before he settled into a grueling schedule of college and intelligence training. There was little time for himself or any social activities, and whatever hopes he had of a normal college social life were soon eroded.

  The next three years of Wade Hanna’s life passed in a blur. Between college and intelligence training, no time remained for anything else. His feeble attempts at a traditional college social life were all unsuccessful. He was handsome and easy to talk to, but few potential dates were interested because of his long and frequent absences.

  Heavy doses of core classes were the mainstay of Wade’s college schedule. He was also prone to taking unconventional classes. Questionable class electives like locksmithing, gemstone appraisal, art valuation, magic, and theatrical make-up were considered supplements vital for covert assignments, but caused the agency to wonder. Wade became proficient at persuading the agency to accept his strange course curriculum, arguing that he would make good use of every single skill he acquired.

  His magic class actually turned out to offer a surprising application to undercover work. A large part of the class was spent on how human perception works and how the mind tricks itself by filling in the blanks for what the brain thinks it actually sees.

  The fundamental principles behind illusion intrigued Wade. He made connections between magic tricks and what he was learning in other intelligence classes. He learned that “objects” in an illusion were not as important as the method of misdirection. The visual diversion had to be created while everyone was watching. His winning classwork brought surprise and praise from his classmates and a seasoned instructor who had performed professionally several hundred times. The class project at the end of the term had students design their own illusions and perform them in front of the class.

  He convinced himself that underlying illusion principles would serve him well in real undercover assignments, but he didn’t know how or when such tricks might come in handy. But at least now he was ready to use them.

  Life for Wade was not all about taking fun courses. Intelligence training occupied most his weekends, holidays, and even his summers. The government expected a high commitment to the training courses that consumed every spare moment of his time. Wade was a sponge, though, and loved almost every minute of his extensive training.

  Government, law enforcement, and various forms of intelligence classes drummed into him every aspect of intelligence work. Intelligence classes took him across the country to numerous alphabet soup locations with the CIA, NSA, Customs, Secret Service, DIA, DEA, and FBI.

  For field training, he attended classes at base after base throughout the country, including remote specialized training facilities operated by the Navy, Army, Air Force, Marines, and Special Forces. There were even a few remote clandestine facilities that trainees were taken to blind-folded.

  Under Wade’s government-mandated training program, all military, intelligence agencies, and federal law enforcement courses offered, became available for his training. Scheduling and coordination of these training activities for each new recruit was complex and almost impossible to achieve for the uninitiated. They were handled by an assigned intelligence officer officially called a Training Coordinator, and informally called a handler.

  The handler assigned to Wade was Megan Winslow, who was part wizard, part task master. Megan herself was an intelligence officer and recent graduate of the program. She was based in Washington D.C. and considered her role important, but temporary.

  Megan’s career goal was to be a field operative, and she hoped to get a permanent posting in the next couple of years. Until then, she took her handler role seriously. She knew every trick in the book and didn’t take lip from recruits or any of the military officers she had to deal with.

  Like tracking a covert target, Megan knew Wade’s whereabouts every moment of the day. She made sure he was where he was supposed to be at the correct time. Whatever little spare time Wade had, Megan was busy scheduling it. She knew every school holiday, when each of his college classes began and ended, homework assignment schedules, exam dates, and when a class had been canceled, often before he did.

  She was Wade’s constant telephone companion and oftentimes his wake-up call. Megan saw something in Wade that she didn’t see in other recruits, and she liked what she saw. A mutual feeling of trust developed and began to grow to something more than just recruit and handler. Romance was in the air, but only a possibility at the end of her tenure as Wade’s handler.

  Wade performed well in his intelligence classes and field work. Superior ratings were common in both classroom and field training. Performance write-ups over his three years of training suggested that his strongest skill was his ability to improvise.

  Many of the courses were Special Forces training sessions for both Navy SEALs and Army Rangers. Intelligence trainees, although not expected to achieve the same level of proficiency as a Ranger or SEAL, were expected to show significant proficiency in weapons, explosive devices, navigational skills, en
cryption, and surveillance.

  Wade wasn’t the strongest or most skilled at hand-to-hand combat, but he demonstrated good techniques on certain defensive moves and poise in making directed “kills” when so ordered. More importantly, Wade exhibited an ability to find ways to achieve results when resources were limited and the odds were stacked against him.

  His methods were not always pretty or conventional, nor did they necessarily follow protocol, but somehow he nearly always found a way to succeed. As one field officer and instructor wrote in Wade’s course review, “He finds ways to win or neutralize his opponent in situations where the odds suggest he should not prevail.”

  Now only five intelligence classes were left before Wade was scheduled to graduate. Two of those classes were field classes, and the remaining three were classroom instruction. It was important to Wade to do well and graduate high in his class.

  One of the more difficult field classes he faced was yet to be scheduled: the Sniper and Navigation Special Forces class at Fort Benning, Georgia. He and Megan had discussed the class for more than two months.

  The class was always full and had an incredibly long waiting list. Megan was determined to get him in before the graduation deadline, however. She wasn’t going to have her record tarnished because any recruit of hers missed a class she was supposed to have scheduled. To accomplish this, Megan was not opposed to going over a base training coordinator’s head. A call to the assistant base commander at Fort Benning at the suggestion of the Assistant Director of the CIA got her the audience she needed to do the convincing.

  Over the last three years, Wade and Megan had become constant telephone companions but had never met in person. Long personal talks lasting into the early hours of the morning were not uncommon as their personal relationship grew. There was more than a hint of a much stronger relationship to come. Each was sensitive to their professional positions, though, and cautious about how they approached the topic.