by Adam Hiatt
A file entitled EOS caught his attention. He let the mouse cursor hover over the folder as he considered opening it. He had no idea what was inside, but he suspected there were personnel files on the operatives of EOS. One of the security measures of the covert agency was that nobody outside of Madison Jenkins knew the identity of any other field agent. It was a wise policy in some ways, but completely irritating in others. Reddic never understood why there was so much secrecy in protecting their identities from one another, but Jenkins explained it away as not just a necessary measure, but critical.
One mistake, one slipped word, one unauthorized meeting with the wrong person watching could compromise the entire operation, Jenkins had explained. She had created a built-in deniability for her operatives. It put in place a structure where Jenkins took responsibility for the actions of her people. To be honest, that was one of the reasons why Reddic ultimately made the decision to accept her offer and join EOS. He trusted her and knew that she would have his back in a pinch.
But right now, he was not thinking about that. All he thought of was this golden opportunity to learn who he was working with. He clicked the mouse once, highlighting the folder. Maybe it was a guy thing to want to compare. Maybe it was selfish pride to see who the best was, or maybe it was just his curiosity. Either way, all he wanted was to see the names. He would figure the rest out later.
He double-clicked the folder to open it, but instead of expanding on the desktop a request for another password popped up. Smart, he thought. He tried using a variation of the same password he had used to access the computer. After three failed attempts the folder locked him out. Very clever, Madison, he thought.
“What did you just do?” Jaxon asked. “We won’t be able to try another password for at least twelve hours, or until someone resets it.”
“That wasn’t the folder she wanted us to see,” Reddic said. He felt pangs of embarrassment as he spoke. “I was just snooping into something I should’ve left alone.”
“You’re such a child sometimes,” Jaxon responded in exasperation.
Reddic ignored the insult. He could not have agreed more with his brother. What he just tried to do was very juvenile.
He put off the thought and found the program for the security system. As he opened it, he quickly noticed that it was a state-of-the-art system. The screen was divided into four small squares, each showing a different wide-angle picture. From left to right they showed the exterior and interior of the garage, the conference room and hallway, and her office. Jaxon waived at the ceiling as he watched himself on the screen.
Reddic looked around the office to spot the camera. From the angle of the picture on the monitor he could tell it was embedded somewhere inside the motion detector mounted just above the doorframe. It made a lot of sense. The motion detectors would not only power on the lights and cameras but would make for a very discreet housing unit for the surveillance equipment.
On the bottom, left-hand side of the screen was a tab for the archives. Reddic clicked on the tab and brought up a list of dates and timestamps. He selected the most recent activity and the screen changed back to video. On the upper left-hand screen, they saw a Chevy Tahoe approach the garage and enter. Reddic immediately recognized Jenkins’ vehicle.
They intently watched as Jenkins led Brooke into the anteroom of her workplace. She turned and whispered something to Brooke before stealthily approaching her office. On the bottom screen they could see a man sitting in her desk with his back to the door. As Jenkins entered her office, movement on the top right screen stole their attention. Another man was in the garage and silently opened the door behind Brooke. She had no idea he was behind her. He grabbed her neck from behind with his left arm and brought a knife to her throat with his right. He pushed her into the office where Jenkins was pointing a gun at the man sitting in her chair. Reddic strained at the video to get a closer look. The man was wearing a hood concealing his face, but his vestment made his identity clear.
It had to be the Priest.
Jenkins suddenly turned toward the door and aimed her weapon at the man holding Brooke. Reddic noticed the way the man moved and instantly knew he had to be the assassin that Jenkins mentioned in the hangar.
“Take the shot!” Reddic yelled at the screen.
He watched in horror as Jenkins’ hesitation allowed the assassin to shove Brooke her way and overpower her in the blink of an eye. Jenkins fell to the floor hard after being struck in the head. The assassin pulled the gun from Jenkins’ hand and pointed it at Brooke. She dropped to her knees with her hands in the air. The assassin flex-cuffed her wrists and put a bag over her head. The Priest rose from the desk and led Brooke from the workplace as the assassin carried Jenkins away. Once they got out of view of the cameras the screen turned black.
“How could this have happened?” Reddic asked. “This office is more secure than a bank vault.”
“Besides you, who else would know about this place?” Jaxon asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe other operatives. Other than that, probably only the president himself.”
“I think we’re in serious trouble then. This obviously goes much deeper than we could have imagined.”
“What are you saying? That it goes all the way to the president. Come on, Jaxon. That’s crazy talk.”
“Reddic, we just discovered documents proving the king of France was part of a secret pact to eliminate probably the greatest legion of soldiers to walk the face of the earth. I don’t think it’s that crazy.”
The words had a sobering effect on Reddic. If the president was involved, then all bets were off.
“I don’t know. You could be on to something, but let’s not jump to conclusions just yet,” he said. “Let’s stick with what we know. We just watched Madison and Brooke being taken by the Priest and his assassin. That’s number one. Number two, Madison told me she thought the assassin’s name was Mahan. Where he took Brooke and Madison we don’t know. But, fact number three, we can assume that they are still alive. If they wanted them dead, they would have killed them right here on camera. As long as Brooke’s research is incomplete, she has value.”
“That’s true, but what leverage could Madison possibly have?” Jaxon asked.
“That’s a tough question. Her biggest bargaining chip is her job. She has unfettered access to pretty much anything that’s sensitive or classified in the government. That alone makes her extremely valuable.”
“So perhaps she’s being used to gain access to sensitive material? That would make a lot of sense, considering that type of information could be used to not only expose and subdue potential enemies, political or financial, but make huge profits through blackmail or inside access. The possibilities would be endless.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know Madison like I do.” Reddic said. “She’s beyond reproach. I mean totally incorruptible. I can’t tell her half the things I do out of fear she would prosecute me herself.”
“Then what else could it be?”
“I don’t know. There’s so much I can’t put my finger on. It’s like trying to put together a puzzle without knowing what the picture is. The pieces we have seem so random, but I know they fit somehow. There’s just a huge piece that’s still missing and I’m willing to bet that we can find it on these surveillance tapes.”
With that thought Reddic turned back to the computer and selected the earliest entry from the previous day. The video showed Jenkins’ Tahoe once again enter the garage. She entered the building and quickly moved to her desk and began working on the same computer Reddic was using. He changed the video speed to triple playback mode. Jenkins logged off her computer and exited the office and garage. The screen again turned black.
He clicked on the next archived entry. The Tahoe returned to the garage, but there was a passenger this time. It was a man. Reddic studied him as Jenkins opened the door to her workplace. He checked the time stamp on the video. It was less than an hour before he had met Jenkins in the airport
hangar before leaving for France. There was no doubt the man with her was Peter Ellis.
Jenkins motioned for Ellis to take a seat at the conference table. She had her back to the camera, but she was speaking to him with her palms on the flat surface. Ellis said a few words before sliding a manila envelope across the table. Jenkins picked it up and left Ellis in the conference room. She walked into her office and closed the door behind her. She turned to her left and entered the private bathroom with the envelope in hand. She was out of camera’s view for only a few seconds before reemerging in her office, but there was no envelope with her. She returned to the conference room, addressed Ellis shortly and exited the building.
As her Tahoe drove away a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere and rolled underneath the door into the garage just before it sealed shut. The area on the screen was dark, making it difficult to see any facial or bodily features, but Reddic had a pretty good idea who it was that just entered. On the bottom left screen, they saw Ellis turn on the flat screen television in the conference room and begin watching the financial news. He was completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t alone.
The video continued with no movement from the man in the garage. Reddic could see his silhouette in the shadows. He simply waited. Ellis remained in the conference room with his feet up on the table. Reddic moved the video forward a few minutes until the man in the garage left his position and approached the door.
He knocked on the heavy steel door three times and waited. Ellis, startled by the sudden intrusion, jumped to his feet and cautiously approached the door. There was no way for him to know who awaited him on the other side. He stood still, clearly calculating his next move. He decided to open the door a small crack and peer outside. But a soon as the locking bolt cleared the frame, the man in the garage put his shoulder into the door, causing it to explode inward toward Ellis, knocking him off-balance and on to the floor.
The man standing in the doorway came into clear view of the camera. Mahan, the assassin, rushed into the room and wrapped his left arm around Ellis’ neck like a boa constrictor snake. He whispered something in his victim’s ear, causing Ellis to protest violently. He wildly kicked his legs and swung his arms in a desperate attempt to loosen Mahan’s grip. Nothing worked. His efforts to escape quickly diminished as the flow of blood and oxygen to his brain rapidly declined. Ellis’ body quickly became slacken. Mahan maintained his tight hold much longer than needed to render a man unconscious. When he finally released his grip, Ellis fell to the floor in a lifeless heap.
Mahan left Ellis where he was and stepped back into the garage. He propped the steel door open and flipped the switch to lift the exterior door. He bounded up the small concrete ramp and looked in both directions behind the building. Satisfied that he was alone, he walked out of camera’s view only to return within a few seconds with a blanket. Back inside the conference room Mahan wrapped Ellis in the blanket and hoisted him over his shoulders and out of the building.
He must have disposed of Ellis’ body because when he came back on camera, he had only a cell phone in his hand pressed to his ear. He ended his call and stepped inside the garage, closing the door behind him. Reddic moved the video forward several minutes until the garage door opened back up. Instead of a vehicle, another man on foot walked down the ramp. The religious robe, the hooded head was all too familiar.
The Priest entered Jenkins’ office and sat down behind her desk while Mahan remained in the shadows outside. A short while later Jenkins’ Tahoe pulled into the garage. In their haste, Jenkins and Brooke walked right past Mahan and into the ambush that awaited them inside.
Reddic stopped the video and looked up at his brother. Jaxon had an anger in his eye that he hadn’t seen in a long time. His hands were balled up into fists.
“Promise me you won’t stop until you find them and bring them to justice,” Jaxon said.
Justice they would get, Reddic would make sure of that. But their justice wouldn’t come by way of the courts. The justice they deserved was a bullet to the head.
44
Madison Jenkins sat alone in a windowless room. The area was devoid of all comforts except for a square metal table that was bolted to the floor, as well as an aluminum bench, also bolted down. Staring down at her was a camera with a bright red light making it clear that her every move was being watched. An identical camera was mounted to the wall directly behind her. At first, she thought the room sterile with its dull, monochromatic color scheme, but the longer she remained in the room the more she considered it depressing.
She was not handcuffed or bound in any way, so she could move about freely. Occasionally she stood to stretch her legs, but the ten-by-twelve room wasn’t exactly a fitness center. She was grateful to have the restraints off her wrists, a small convenience that didn’t go unnoticed. It was a big change from when the FBI stormed the dingy motel room and slapped cuffs on her, leading her away like a common criminal.
On second thought, she was escorted to the awaiting government vehicle like a high-profile criminal. The walk of shame was one that she will never forget. Jenkins was the consummate optimist, but it was hard to keep her head held high being ushered with her hands behind her back through a rundown parking lot as one shady-looking patron after another stepped out of their rooms to observe. Keeping her chin pressed against her chest was all she could do to avoid the humiliation.
The FBI agents drove the vehicle a short distance to the Hoover Building, the headquarters of the bureau. For her sake they discreetly drove into the bowels of the parking structure and entered the building through an elevator accessible by employees only. They led her to a room that was much friendlier than the one she sat in currently. It had more of a conference room feel, with windows, a polished wood table and chairs that swiveled. The agents removed the handcuffs and reapplied them with her hands in front of her. Her shoulders were extremely grateful for the change.
It wasn’t lost on her that no formal charges were ever made—not in the motel, not on the drive to headquarters, and not in the conference room. She remained by herself for over an hour until a pair of military police arrived and swept her away, again without any charges. They put her in the back of a dark green Dodge Durango and drove off. As soon as the military took custody of her she had a pretty good idea of what was going on and where the vehicle was heading.
The National Defense Authorization Act allowed the military to indefinitely detain any suspected terrorist, foreign or domestic, without charge and without legal counsel. She presumed she was being transported to the nearest detention facility at Andrews Air Force Base in Maryland. The only thing she could not figure out was why she was being treated like a domestic terrorist. She hadn’t broken any laws, at least none that she was aware of, or any that could be traced back to her.
The most likely scenario was that she was just another victim of a political execution. Sadly, despite the political rhetoric regarding the so-called war on women, she wasn’t at all surprised that this could possibly happen to her. Washington DC was, after all, the model city of hypocrisy. Politicians of all shapes and sizes beat their drums demanding gender equality when in front of a television camera or microphone, but behind closed doors the culture remained the same. It was the ultimate boys club, and even more so in the power structure.
Jenkins felt it when she ran the National Counterterrorism Center. It wasn’t necessarily overt misogynism as much as tacit disapproval, perhaps envy, and definitely ego-driven opinions that a man would be better suited for the position. For that reason, she remained politically neutral and avoided stepping on toes. She was firm and decisive, but not confrontational. And she watched her back constantly. Nonetheless, it didn’t change the fact that she had a big job and a big title. The constant scrutiny wore on her.
When the framework for EOS was created there was no hesitation on her part when asked if she would be interested. For her it was the perfect job. Not only was she still part of the intelligence community,
her security clearance increased. But the best part for her was the cloak of anonymity. Her critics believed she had been demoted when in fact it was a monumental promotion. She selected, planned, and executed vital clandestine operations for the country. For the first time in her professional career she felt a sense of control and belonging.
Nevertheless, she wasn’t naïve enough to believe that she was immune from the political jackals that laid in wait for a mistake to be made. She knew there would be a day when somebody would come after her job. When she first started EOS there were less than five people that knew of its existence. But the net had grown over the years to the point that the president’s cabinet now had a general knowledge. The nondisclosure and confidentiality documents they signed did little to assuage her fear of future, inevitable political meddling.
Now she sat on a hard bench by herself inside of a military interrogation room with her fears confirmed. There was no doubt in her mind that her job was being targeted. If that meant destroying her life, even going to prison with trumped up charges, then so be it. Stepping on somebody else to get ahead was the Washington way. Her back was just another rung in the ladder for the foot that stepped on it.
She had a pretty good idea who was coming after her. Years ago, she created an enemies list and constantly updated it. The problem was, her most prominent enemy now might have the president’s ear even more than she did. She knew the chief of staff disliked her from the moment President Rutherford took office. She just had no idea what he had on her.
Jenkins’ thoughts were interrupted by the locks to the interrogation room popping open. The door swung inward and the same two military policemen entered the room. Jenkins remained seated as they stood to each side of her. She caught their surnames sewed just above the right breast of their combat uniforms, along with their rank insignias. To her left was First Lieutenant Lewis and on the right was Captain Wilson.