A Viable Threat (A Martin Billings Story Book 4)

by Ed Teja

  “What does Hank say about this?”

  “So far, just that my agent is lying”

  “Well, the, maybe that is the truth. She might be lying about all of it.”

  Hodges tapped the file. “I have copies of it. It's exactly what she told us to expect. We also have his requests for reconnaissance and chatter that match things in the file. I also have recordings of the admiral explaining the threat to the team, plus his admonition that no one was to tell you about the threat or the actions he intended to take.”

  “Polly knew your agent was a woman,” I whispered into the mic and Hodges nodded. She had carefully used the term 'my agent' in every reference.

  Hodges patted the folder. “It's a believable package.” She slipped out a copy of one of the photos. “These are official surveillance photos that were professionally doctored.”

  “How did you get these? I thought—”

  “What did you think?”

  Polly pushed the photo back. “I thought you needed to have warrants.”

  “Not when they are offered to my agents.”

  “And do you have some kind of chain of possession to be certain that Hank created these, or had it done?”

  “Nothing that would hold up in a court of law, perhaps. Unfortunately for him, it isn’t the police who apprehended your husband. He is in our custody.”

  “He has rights. I'll get him a lawyer.”

  Hodges shook her head. “We can detain him indefinitely without letting see a lawyer. Thanks to you.”

  “What?”

  “The legality of this detention is covered by one of the new subversive activity laws you supported.”

  “So you brought me here to slander my husband?”

  “No. You see, this is where the security breach I told you about comes into play. There is no reason to go into details of the mission, but your husband was trying to have the team eliminated. My agent called for an extraction and we set in motion. Someone who should have known better relayed the details of that extraction to Homeland Security.”

  “So?”

  “The details were immediately relayed from Homeland to someone in DC, who sent them to the admiral, who sent it to an assassin, who set up an ambush.”

  I watched Polly's eyes, seeing a sense of relief. “An ambush? Oh, that's how your agent was killed. Did anyone escape?”

  Hodges' voice was cold. “That information is not relevant to the security breach.”

  “I'm sorry. This sounds like there are leaks in your operation as well as Homeland Security. How does that relate to me?”

  Hodges nodded. “We've already taken care of our leak. The one in Homeland is more difficult and a much bigger threat than one agency spying on another. It even goes beyond my agent being killed.”

  “Bigger?”

  “Much. It suggests that your husband was working for someone, a highly placed, powerful, and well-connected person in Washington. That person has assets in Homeland Security and has put her own interests over those of the country. That is treason.”

  Polly's jaw was clenched. She pointed to the file. “If you are going to throw around accusations of treason, I demand to examine those records in detail.”

  Hodges shook her head. “Here is the problem—the records contain sensitive data. Regardless of your clearance, or how important you are, as we've agreed, there is a serious security breach. Letting the information leave here would endanger many lives and ongoing investigations.”

  “I won't—”

  “Senator, you may think your office is secure, but the truth is I am aware that you are monitored by several intelligence agencies, and not all of them ours. I won't risk compromising things further.”

  “I am the Senate's representative on intelligence.”

  “And as such, you have two choices. You can insist that I hand this over to you. If that's your choice, I will preemptively send it to the Department of Justice with a recommendation that Hank Jeffries be labeled a national security risk and publicly prosecuted. I will also give the information, redacted, to the press.”

  “That's a breach of—”

  “It's already breached, Senator. Of course, you will deny any knowledge of your husband's activities. But that will be discounted quickly. When he is brought to trial, whether or not you are accused of any involvement, your political career will be on trial along with him. The press will demand to know how you could not have known. They will turn over every rock of your personal life in an attempt to connect you to this.”

  “You are blackmailing me?”

  “Perhaps. But I assure you, he will be found guilty of crimes that include plotting the murder of a federal agent, as well as aiding and abetting drug smuggling. Of course, you'll get him high-priced lawyers who will draw out the trial for years. After all, they are paid by the hour. In the end, even if no one says a word against you, it won't leave a savory legacy”

  “And the other choice?”

  “Walk away. You agree to not insist on learning any more detail than I've given you. In addition, you will use your considerable political clout to support our efforts to use this information to track down the cartels and every single business that fronts for them. I'll want and expect total cooperation from other agencies.”

  “And what happens to Hank?”

  Hodges shook her head. “We will learn that he was kidnapped by the evil cartel. His drug interdiction efforts were, unfortunately, far too effective. They will torture him, and then one day his body will turn up. He will be a fallen hero.”

  Polly's eyes grew wide. “You will kidnap and kill a US admiral?”

  Hodges opened her hands. “Senator, he has disappeared. We aren't responsible for his safety. I assume the cartel has him. This is the unfortunate reality.”

  “Why did you bring me here and tell me this? If that's what you intend to do, why not just do it without telling me?”

  Hodges smiled. “Because I don't want a powerful senator raging at people and demanding exhaustive and expensive searches for him that will send our targets into hiding. I want a grief-stricken widow reminding the world what a patriot he was and how you put your faith in the various agencies to find the culprits.”

  Polly let out a breath. “You don't want me rocking the boat?”

  “More than that, I want the unqualified support I mention.”

  “And in return?”

  “In return, you become the wife of a patriotic martyr.” Hodges pushed the thick folder toward her. “At any rate, it is decision time. My people are ready to return you to your office.” Hodges stood. “If you choose to take this with you, go ahead. My assistants have already made copies. I think they've even put together a PowerPoint presentation. The CNN fax line operates 24/7.”

  Polly stared at the folder and the computer. “You could be totally bullshitting me. There might be nothing in that pile of shit.”

  Hodges nodded. “I could be, but I'm not. And I think you don't want me to pursue the angle of who in Washington was responsible for my agent's death.”

  Anger, black rage, flashed in Polly's eyes. She stood, her body rigid and her eyes fixed on the folder. “This agent—”

  “Yes?”

  “She was a good agent?”

  “The best.”

  “And Hank killed her?”

  “He ordered it. One of his men did the work.”

  “Where is that man now?”

  Hodges broke into a smile. “A very reliable source told me she managed to blow his fucking face off before she died.”

  Polly trembled slightly, then she stood. “Tell Martin—” Then she stopped. With a last look at the file, she tucked her hands behind her back, and walked out the door.

  Hodges reached in a pocket and brought out her phone. “She's on her way back. Before you blindfold her again, offer the woman a stiff drink.” Then she stood and looked at me. I was next.

  36

 
It took longer than I expected before Hodges came into the room. When she did, the look on her face was grim. I gave what I knew to be a sad smile. “Within the chest of that hard-nosed senator beats the heart of a stone-cold bitch.”

  She shook her head and sat opposite me. “She knows it's the beginning of the end. I'll keep my word on those files, but she knows that sooner or later Hank will give her up.”

  “She's kind of cornered then.”

  “No. She's got resources. If I were here, I'd run. She can set up with her other business somewhere else.”

  “You can watch her. Grab her when she runs.”

  “We can try to watch her, but she has good security, her own private security people. Gee, I wonder where they came from?”

  “Vermeer's people?”

  She nodded. “Really her people. They mask her movements. And since we don't exist, we can't issue subpoenas or tap her phone legally, anything like that. Because of who she is, if we get evidence, we'll have to contact the Department of Justice. As connected as she is, she'll know instantly if she's being officially investigated. Eventually we will make the case and start shutting down her operations. She will have to run. But bringing her down is going to be hard.”

  “So she gets away with it?”

  Hodges raised her eyebrows. “Does that bother you?”

  “It does.”

  “Then stick around and help me finish her off, bring down the rest of them.”

  “What can I do that the regular authorities can't?”

  She smiled. “Whatever it takes.”

  I took a deep breath. She meant going off the reservation, doing the nasty things it took when the system failed, and the evildoers were clever. “Once you start down that road it never ends, does it?”

  “Not until we die.”

  I shook my head. “That's not me. I was a SEAL and now I'm a freighter captain. I'm not some super agent.”

  Amy glared at me. “None of us has super powers, but the job has to be done.” She pushed her chair back. Anger had her face turning red. “People who have the special qualities to do the work are few and far between.”

  “Special qualities—”

  I knew the special qualities she was talking about. It hurt to think that she thought I was special in that way. “Which reminds me—I don't even know who you are, what your organization is.”

  “Yeah. That's on purpose. Isn't that secretive as all get out?”

  “Even Polly didn't know who you are.”

  That got me a smile. “I was pleased to discover that and to see it drives her nuts. I love frustrating control freaks. And think about it—wouldn't it be great to work for a group that she doesn't control? An organization she can't even locate, much less influence?”

  “You are wicked, Hodges.”

  “And cruel. I have to be. Wimps don't get this work done.”

  “Look, I wish you well and all that, but I'm not much of a team player. That's why the SEALs didn't work out well.”

  “That's not why, but it's okay. We don't have any teams. We rely on people who work alone, people like Amy.”

  “But you have rules.”

  “Did I ever tell you about the time she went to a meet and went off the radar for a year with no warning?”

  “Actually, that's the first time you've told me anything about her.”

  “The point being?”

  “I know you had some kind of personal connection to her. So did I. But she got killed doing this and her death isn't even enough to stop Polly.”

  “She made a difference. You keep trying,” she said.

  “I walked away once because I saw it was pointless.”

  “In the SEALs you were hamstrung by military protocol. This is different.”

  “Different group, different strategy, but you are still fighting politics and entitlement as much as you are the bad guys.”

  “So help me change that.”

  I shook my head. “I can't.”

  She grabbed her phone and sent a text. Moments later a bright young man, some executive assistant or something, came in with a package that he handed Hodges. She looked at it and tossed on the table in front of me. It slid toward me and sat there, waiting for me to pick it up.

  It was shrink-wrapped in plastic. I saw a pair of shoes, pants, underwear, a shirt, and, taped to the top, an envelope.

  “For me? Is it Christmas already?”

  “That's your escape bag,” she said. “It's the thanks of your grateful government for helping truth, justice, and the American way.” The sarcasm dripped from her voice.

  “Right.”

  “It's what you need to go back to your life. A new identity for the trip home, clothes, plane tickets—”

  I hesitated. “Just like that?”

  “Why not? Go ahead and open it. No tricks. You've done everything a person can do, right? You gave me what I asked, helped me set up your ex-wife, even. Like you said, you were a good scout, so you are free to leave.”

  “Why a new identity?”

  She scowled. “Because Polly red-flagged your passport, remember? Even if that's been lifted, it won't amuse immigration that you are leaving when you never arrived. And I'm hoping she never knows for certain you made it here. I want her guessing. She'll learn you made it back to St. Anne but won't know anything about what happened from the time Hank's assassin ambushed you two. The only people besides you and me who know are locked up tight or dead.”

  That was a sobering thought. “So she won't know if I've seen the files, or just handed them off.”

  “Right. And officially, you never left St. Anne, so you arrive as a tourist who then disappears; you resume your real identity when you get there. That won't leave any obvious loose ends. That new passport will be revoked in a week, so don't bother to hang on to it.”

  The edge in her voice told me that Hodges wasn't in a great mood.

  “Look, we did a lot of good,” I said. “Brad's data and the man himself will give you leads to stop the smuggling, maybe names that you need. Hank's plan to replace him is off the table, and you've undermined Polly's position, her ability to protect the cartels while playing patriot.”

  “It's a start,” she said.

  I understood. It wasn't enough; it didn't even begin to make up for Amy bleeding out in a car on Exuma.

  I poked at the thin plastic, the kind dry cleaners wrap suits in and bad guys use to smother you on television. “You are disappointed in me,” I said.

  “Am I?” Her face was hard.

  I tore the envelope off and opened it. It held a passport and a cell phone. A note on the phone gave me the password. I looked up at her. “The boarding passes are on the phone. I hope you like window seats. There are also some 'personal' phones and a bunch of text messages you've sent and received over the last few months.”

  I opened the passport and flipped through it. Emblazoned on it were my picture, my birth date, and the name Johnny Walker. “Someone has a sense of humor,” I said.

  “It's computer generated,” she said. “Your plane tickets from Miami to Barbados and then the island hopper to St. Agnes are in that name, too. We like consistency and TSA usually pays attention. They don't have a sense of humor either, so don't give them that idiot grin when you show your documents.”

  “Idiot grin?”

  “Once you reach St. Agnes, you're on your own for getting to St. Anne.”

  “I can do that.”

  “The plane leaves here for Ft. Lauderdale in one hour. If you are on it, you'll have plenty of time to get to the Miami airport from there.” She looked away. “All you have to do is change into those clothes and catch your flight.”

  “I could stick to the orange jumpsuit and make a dramatic fashion statement.”

  “Probably not the right kind.”

  “You are just going through the motions, giving me this.”

  “I want more,” she said.
/>   It was my turn to let anger show on my face. I leaned forward. “Exactly what did you expect from me, Hodges?”

  “To help me finish this. Catch the bad guys. Make the world a better place. Do it for Amy. All those important clichés and rah.”

  I shook my head. “I'm done with that.” The part about Amy stung.

  “I'm done being the good Samaritan.”

  “Right, except you can't help yourself.”

  Tension made my shoulders ache. “I keep walking away and people like you don't get it. Amy didn't get it. Hank suckered me into this thing to help Polly, who didn't need help, as it turns out. Even when it was clear that Hank had lied, I let Amy convince me to go ahead, finish the mission for the good we could still get from it. And what it got was Amy killed.”

  “He intended to kill you both whether you grabbed Vermeer or not,” she said. Her voice was soft and low. “You knew too much.”

  My neck ached, and I rubbed it as if that would help. She was right. Yet—

  With Hodges looking at me, giving me her sad look, I recalled the slightly crazed, rather sexy lopsided smile Amy flashed me on the island. Then she'd asked: “Are we gonna do it, Marty? No matter what game Hank is playing, are you ready to take the bad guys down, anyway?” I had been, and now I could feel the excitement. I'd been ready to take on anything.

  “In her way, Amy worked me too,” I said. “I'm sick of being manipulated. All the heroic stuff sounds like a good idea at the time but being willing to die for something is a far cry from watching friends die in front of you.”

  “I understand,” Hodges said. “She demanded too much of everyone.” She let out a short, dark laugh. “But I guess that ultimately she was wrong about you.”

  “In what way?”

  “She told me you were a compulsive hero, that you were like her and it was in your DNA.”

  That rocked me. “She told you that?”

  “Why do you think she took to you? She thought you were a kindred spirit.” She pointed to the package.

  Somehow that didn't sit right. It made everything seem like a knee-jerk reaction. “Doing the right thing because you have to doesn't get you credit,” I said. I wanted her to be mistaken.