by Adam Hiatt
“Do you come here often?” Ellis managed to ask.
“First time,” she said. “You?”
“Almost every day after work. They have great coffee here. And even better views. Especially today.”
The man was shameless. Jenkins knew if she didn't get to the heart of the matter inappropriate pick-up lines would soon follow.
“Peter, would you mind if I asked you a personal question?”
“Please do.” He was enjoying himself.
“Why did you create a file named ‘Priest’?” Ellis' juvenile smile vanished in an instant.
“I'm not sure I know what you're talking about,” he said unconvincingly.
“Of course, you do. Last night you pulled some security footage from Sacramento International, ran a facial analysis, and placed it in a file titled ‘Priest’.”
Ellis' face turned pallid. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for a way out of the mess he suddenly found himself in.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I already told you. My name is Madison.”
“That’s not what I meant. Who do you work for?”
“That is not important,” she said. “What is important is for you to tell me who you work for.”
“You already know I work for the NSA.”
“Nice try. That's who you work for when you're not selling your country out to foreign nationals. I want to know who pays for the information.”
“Are you accusing me of treason?” Ellis asked incredulously. “I have not betrayed anybody.”
“Keep your voice down,” Jenkins demanded. She locked eyes with Ellis and held the position until he blinked.
“The president believes otherwise,” she said.
Jenkins was bluffing, but Ellis didn't know that. Knowing that Ellis had access to high level classified materials encouraged her to take a chance. After all, those that worked at the NSA knew that their surveillance methods, eavesdropping tactics, and hacking prowess provided other agencies with real-life targets for rendition or assassination. The truth was the NSA had hands as dirty as the CIA. Invoking the name of the president would be an appropriate gauge of Ellis' loyalties.
“This can't be happening,” he muttered.
Jenkins was close to breaking him. She could sense that he was on the brink of opening up. She simply needed to nudge him in the right direction.
“I will do everything in my power to keep you out of prison,” Jenkins said. “You have my word.”
Ellis put his face in his hands and began laughing hysterically.
“You think prison scares me?” he asked. “If I break my oath prison is the least of my worries.”
“Your oath? What are you talking about?”
“You can’t understand,” Ellis said soberly. “Do you really think I've risen to my position because of my analytical abilities?” He shook his head as he spoke. “It just doesn't work that way anymore. You have to know the right people to get to the top, to get power and influence, to get wealth.”
“I can protect you,” Jenkins said.
“No one can protect me from them if I break my oath.”
He looked deep into her eyes.
“Nobody,” he repeated.
“Is the Priest one of them?” Jenkins asked.
Ellis nodded.
“You have to trust me. I can keep you safe. It's what I do for a living. My team is the best there is.”
“You don't know what you're getting yourself into,” Ellis warned. “This road only leads to darkness and death.”
“I’m willing to take that chance. Our country's future depends on it.”
Ellis studied her face, contemplating his response.
“Then I will be a dead man,” he said.
“Peter,” Jenkins said gently. She reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “I promise that you will be safe with me, but I need to know what you know.”
“I knew it would eventually come to this. If I wasn't so desperate after my divorce I would've never been in this situation,” he said. He looked Jenkins square in the eye, pleading inaudibly with her. “The Priest is a very dangerous man. He has assets everywhere.”
“I have a place where he can’t find us.”
“I will never truly be safe until the Priest and his assassin are dead.”
“If you tell me what you know I will make your problems go away for good.”
Ellis considered her offer. He ran every scenario through his mind until he believed he found a way to protect his future.
“I'll need to stop by my bank to retrieve some documents from my security box. After that, I will tell you everything,” he said.
Jenkins felt a surge of optimism as she followed Ellis out of the diner. Her gut told her that she was finally on the verge of making some progress. Unfortunately, her hopefulness prevented her from noticing the man watching her from the other side of the street.
24
Mahan stared blankly at his men, mustering every ounce of energy and patience to suffer through their reports, which were more excuses than anything else. They sat in the basement of a Belmont home belonging to a prominent Harvard professor sympathetic to the Russians. The basement was elegant, set up with state-of-the-art video and audio equipment, leather furniture, a mini-bar, and a gaming area. It was a space that would capture the heart of any sports or entertainment enthusiast.
Only four men sat in front of him. Of the four one still suffered from a concussion and another a bullet wound to the shoulder. The health of his elite hunters was deteriorating rapidly. To make matters worse, Pavlov was missing. Mahan and the other men had tried communicating with him to no avail. That could mean only one thing.
Pavlov was probably dead.
The woman professor and whoever was protecting her had disappeared again. There was no trace of them anywhere in the city. With Pavlov missing it was probable that he must have had a confrontation with the woman’s protector and was killed. By now she was most likely underground, off the grid for good. Pavlov was a good soldier, lethally efficient. The fact that he was most likely dead confirmed what Mahan already knew. He had grossly underestimated the man aiding Brooke Hansen.
Mahan's frustration was building with each negative report he was forced to endure. He was approaching his limits of snapping when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Looking at the caller ID he saw that it was the Priest. His heart immediately sank. Things could not possibly get any worse. He would now have to deliver more bad news to his mentor. The Priest had already warned him once about his failure. His reaction to the recent developments would not be pretty.
Excusing himself, Mahan took the stairs two at a time to the main level of the house. Staying clear of the windows, he did a quick check to see if there were any unfamiliar people or vehicles watching the property. Sensing the area was secure, Mahan answered the phone.
“Hello father,” he said. “Is there hope on the horizon today?”
“Be at peace, my son,” the Priest responded. “For the sun soon breaketh through.”
Mahan nodded at the prearranged greeting. It was standard protocol between the two of them for not only identification purposes, but also as a signal of danger. If the response was that the sun was breaking through then that meant there were no problems and the phone call was secure, but if the Priest had replied that clouds were coming, Mahan would've known that he was in imminent danger and that the call was being made under duress.
“I'm assuming you've failed to ascertain the whereabouts of the professor by your lack of communication,” the Priest stated.
“It pains me to admit that my men and I have exhausted all leads and have fallen short of your expectations,” Mahan said meekly.
“So be it. Your men have outgrown their usefulness. The FBI is now investigating the matter. You need to downsize your company.”
“And my search for the professor?” Mahan asked.
“I have recently learned that our friend at the
NSA has decided to break his sacred oath. He must be dealt with immediately.”
“I understand.” Mahan was fuming. He could not imagine ever breaking the oath that he had made. There was too much power and knowledge on the line.
“A woman has seduced him into this weakened state,” the Priest continued. “Do not underestimate her. She will be the key to finding the professor.”
“I will not disappoint you.”
“I know you won’t. Now come meet with me at the altar. You will be working with only our brothers from this point forward. Downsize your operation and make sure there are no loose ends.”
Mahan disconnected the call and placed the phone in his pocket. He silently applied a sound suppressor to his Heckler and Koch USP and made his way downstairs. All four men had their backs to him. He lifted the gun and took aim at his first victim.
His men had no idea that their employment and lives were about to end.
25
Reddic did a double take as the words fell off Brooke's lips. He simply could not believe what he was hearing. His mind raced to fit the pieces together as he maneuvered the Charger through traffic. After glancing at his rearview mirror again to check for any pursuers, he snuck a peek at Brooke. She looked agitated, almost guilt-ridden. Reddic wondered if there was something else she was hiding.
The one thing he was certain about was that the entire situation had just become much more convoluted. Only five minutes ago he was sure that the Russians were the principal players in what was turning out to be a standard international technology theft. He half expected the Chinese to be participants as well.
As it now stood, he felt as if he had just taken one step forward and two steps backwards. There was a nagging thought he couldn’t push away. His brother’s theory about the secret darkness, or brotherhood, or secret combinations, or whatever he had called it, was proving to be a much more important element. One thing was for sure, he needed to get more information out of Brooke.
“Would you mind walking that back for us?” he asked testily.
“Brooke,” Jaxon interrupted. “Why do you believe that Feldman was part of a secret brotherhood?”
“Because I heard the words from his own mouth,” she said defensively.
“Slow down a second, I believe you,” Jaxon said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “What did you hear?”
Brooke looked directly at Reddic. “I'm sorry I kept this from you,” she said.
Reddic nodded his acknowledgment without saying a word. He was right to assume that the guilt was eating at her. Curious about what she had to explain, he decided to placate her.
“What's done is done,” he said. “I’m glad that you're coming clean now.”
“That doesn't excuse my behavior,” she said. “You've saved my life three times already. I should have been more honest.”
“It’s okay, I forgive you,” Reddic said. “Please, tell us what you heard from Feldman.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a big breath. “The man who killed him, William, spoke to him before he died. William threatened to reveal what he called ‘the order’ if the killer didn't back off. He talked about dark oaths and how evil they were and his intentions to expose the darkness. I sensed that he was in trouble, so I called for him from around the corner. That was when he was killed.”
“How did the other man respond to Feldman's threats?” Jaxon asked.
“He scoffed at him and told him that his fate was sealed. It sounded like he didn't believe that William knew enough to expose this order.”
“Feldman obviously knew about the ancient record of the secret darkness,” Jaxon stated.
“And if he knew about it,” Reddic interjected. “Then so do others.”
“Reddic,” Jaxon said. “I think it’s now more important than ever to find Molay's record.”
“I agree, but it won't be easy,” Reddic said. “Somebody is going to connect the dots and come looking for it too, especially if they feel that we are closing in on them.”
The interior of the vehicle fell silent as they entered Manchester city limits. Dense forest covered the rolling hills that surrounded the city. Unless a swath of trees was cut out to build a road or part of the cityscape, it was very difficult to see very far in any direction. Reddic shook his head at the irony. The setting was a perfect metaphor for how he felt. He could see enough to keep moving forward, but the endgame was completely out of sight.
“Brooke, is there anything else that we should know regarding Feldman’s final moments?” Reddic asked. “Was there anything else on his phone that you forgot to tell us?”
“Only one thing,” she said. “Remember when I told you the text that William was about to send me said, 'Brooke, beware'?”
“Clearly,” Reddic responded.
“Well, I may have left out the second half of the text.”
Reddic's face flushed with anger. He squeezed the steering wheel to the point his knuckles were turning white. Brooke instantly noticed the change in emotion.
“I'm sorry, I was scared and didn't know who to trust,” she said. “I can't imagine anybody else doing any different in the same situation.”
“What did you see, Brooke?” Jaxon cajoled.
Turning away from Reddic, she looked into Jaxon's eyes. “It said, 'Brooke, beware of the Priest.”
“Any idea who that could be?” Reddic asked impatiently.
“No idea. I'm what you'd call an agnostic,” she said. “I don't belong to any organized religion, so I have no relationship with any priests.”
“There's no such thing as an atheist or agnostic,” Jaxon said. “Just because you don't understand something doesn't mean that that something doesn't exist.”
“You two can debate your beliefs later,” Reddic interjected. “Do you have any insights on what Feldman could have been referring to?”
“I’m at a loss with this one,” Jaxon said.
“Yeah, you and me both.”
The next ten minutes were driven in silence. He turned the Charger onto the road designated as Wiggins Airways and continued toward a moderate size hangar. Parking the car, he ushered his brother and Brooke inside to where the plane that Jenkins sent would be waiting.
“Put your hat back on and pull the bill down over your face,” Reddic said to Brooke. “When we enter the building do not look up for any reason. Stare at the floor as if you're uninterested in life. That goes for the both of you. I will take care of the rest.”
Reddic marched straight toward the counter, showed his ID, and asked if his plane was ready. The attendant checked her book and found a match. She had Reddic sign two pieces of paperwork and led them to the door entering the hanger. To the left was the Gulf Stream that Jenkins had sent. The stairs were down, and two pilots descended as they approached the jet.
Reddic met the two men and shook both of their hands. These pilots were the only pilots that he ever used. They were employed by the CIA and knew how to keep their mouths shut. Stepping to the side, Reddic allowed Brooke and Jaxon to climb the stairs to the Gulf Stream first.
“I need to make a quick call out here,” Reddic said to the pilots. “I won't be long.”
Without saying a word, they politely nodded and scurried up the steps. Reddic pulled out his phone and quickly dialed Jenkins' number.
“We're on the move,” he said when she answered the phone. “I'm coming to you. I need to drop off a package.”
“Is there something wrong with it?” she asked.
“Nothing wrong. I need to run an errand that might get complicated. Can you look after my package?”
“Yes, and I’ll pick it up myself. I also have an interesting story to tell you when we meet.”
“I can't wait,” Reddic said, as he disconnected the call and hopped up the stairs.
Before entering the jet, he took one last look around the hangar. His mind was racing at an all-time high. He couldn't shake the feeling that whoever this Priest was, he was three steps ahead of
them. He just hoped Jenkins had something that would help him see things more clearly.
26
Ronald Reagan National Airport was becoming busier by the year. Based on its proximity to both the Pentagon and the national monuments in Washington, DC, airlines were more amenable to add routes to Reagan National to entice travelers away from Dulles. The marketing strategy seemed to be working, as Aviation Circle was moving at a snail's pace. Jenkins pulled her Tahoe onto Thomas Avenue then took an immediate right. On her left was the south hangar, which was where she knew Reddic would be waiting.
Vehicular access points at airports were very few in quantity, and those who were able to gain entrance were even fewer. Jenkins pulled up to the perimeter fence and waited for the armed security guard to approach her vehicle, feeling fortunate that her government credentials would grant her entry to most federally operated facilities. She had been to almost every country in the world and had seen some heavy security, especially at airports. The United State was easily the most discreet.
Images of her recent trip to Egypt flashed before her eyes. Just outside of Cairo her charter jet was waiting for her on the tarmac to take her back to America. As her driver approached the access point to the airport, they were met by five men in black masks carrying assault rifles. Despite having proper paperwork, her vehicle and luggage were searched while the soldiers kept their weapons trained on the driver. Had they decided to steal something she honestly didn’t know what she would have done.
Looking at the young African American guard currently approaching her SUV was a totally different experience. She could tell he wore a Kevlar vest. He had his sidearm holstered and walked with a purpose, but there was nothing overtly threatening about him. Inside the bullet-proof booth at the gate was another guard. Jenkins was sure he had a high-powered weapon available should the need arise. Nonetheless, she appreciated the security decorum.
“May I help you ma'am?” the young man asked pleasantly.
Jenkins handed over her ID without saying a word. He examined it and then compared it to her face. After handing it back he twirled his index finger in the air toward his companion in the booth. The steel barricade that stood in her pathway opened smoothly.