The Lion's Prey

by Camden Mays

  “Yep. With Amy running things here in the den and someone like Sara in the field, we’ll be hard to beat.” Cole was proud to have snagged the veteran army intel officer with her experience at CENTCOM.

  “Damn straight.”

  “Sir.” One of the team’s analysts stood near his workstation and interrupted the two. “I think we’ve got a lead on Jawahir.”

  “Talk to me.”

  “One of our assets in Al Mukalla tagged him at the Banaamh Mosque.” Walsh put up the photo of the AIJB lieutenant on the screen for all to see.

  “Who was the asset?” Cole asked.

  “Pearl Fahimi, sir,” Bridgette Robinson replied.

  “Man, that woman is something else.”

  Robinson nodded. “She followed him to the airport. She’s there now. She thinks he’s headed to Sana’a.”

  “Do you want me to get some assets in Sana’a on this?” Walsh asked.

  Cole remembered the firefight in Sayhut, and the disturbing sight of Kallah Majid’s eyes as life left his body. The CIA asset had betrayed them, killed Amir, and was the first man Cole had shot. He rubbed his hand through his hair, thinking.

  “I don’t want this to get away from us. Can we get Pearl on that flight? Do we have time?”

  “Which airline is he on?” Sinha asked.

  “Yemenia,” Robinson replied.

  Steve Sinha looked at Michael Walsh, and they grinned at each other.

  “What? What’s going on with you two?” Cole asked.

  “Well, we are supposed to be ‘untethered,’ right?” Sinha asked with a sheepish grin.

  “Yeah. Spit it out.”

  “Well, sir, Steve and I can hack the airline system and create a delay to buy us time for Pearl to get on,” Walsh explained.

  “Do it. Do it now. Bridgette, see if Pearl will comply.”

  The analysts began working their tasks and setting Pearl up to fly to the Yemen capital to track Jawahir, one of Hasni’s old lieutenant’s and potentially the Lion of Aden.

  “Alright, Darryl, while they’re working on this, let’s go into my office and review the training reports. I want to make sure we’re ready to go if we nail him down.”

  They sat at the small round table in Cole’s office, and Capps shared the field training scores of the team and proposed that the field crew be limited to five members who excelled in the training simulations. Along with Cole, Capps, and Sara Wang, the two analysts with the highest aptitude for field scenarios were Steve Sinha and Bridgette Robinson. “OK, let’s pull Steve and Bridgette in separately, talk to them, and make sure they’re up for the rigors and challenges.”

  “Will do,” Capps said.

  Cole looked at his cell and remembered the den was a dead zone. He hated not having a connection throughout the day without leaving the basement.

  Amy popped her head in. “McCune on the horn for you,” she said, nodding at the line on his desk.

  “Thanks.” Cole picked up the phone. “Ma’am.”

  After listening for a few seconds, Cole ended the call with a clipped statement. “Yes, ma’am. On my way.”

  “You want some ChapStick?” Capps asked.

  “What?”

  “You headin’ upstairs, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’re gonna need some ChapStick for all that ass-kissing.” Capps laughed out the last part in his gravelly voice.

  “See, that’s what everybody was talking about when you walked in.”

  “What?” Capps snapped toward Cole with a stern look.

  “You’re an asshole!” Cole felt like he got the last laugh and headed out of the den for his meeting with a CIA legal team. They were looking to strategize against Congressman Scott Shepherd.

  ✽✽✽

  Washington, DC – Capitol Hill

  Journalist Darcy Regis stood back and watched Congressman Scott Shepherd and his retinue push past reporters and photographers up the steps of the Capitol building at the east end of the National Mall. After reaching an elevated position, the congressman turned back to the clamoring reporters below him. He knew which angle he wanted the lenses pointing to give him a taller, authoritative look. With the reporters on the steps below and the Reflecting Pool, Washington Monument, and Lincoln Memorial in the background, it was obvious the narcissistic politician could think of no other place he’d rather be.

  “Please, please. As I said before, it is important to hold our government in check. What business does the CIA have using its resources and agents for domestic issues? I have it on good authority that one of their officers conducted illegal activity during the Roslin investigation. That is why I, as a member of the Subcommittee on National Security, have petitioned for an investigation into the activities of certain members of the intelligence community.” Shepherd stopped and pointed to one of the reporters.

  “Congressman, your critics say that this is outside the scope of your committee. How do you respond?” the reporter asked.

  An obvious softball question, Darcy thought.

  Shepherd called the reporter by name. “Mr. Dents, as you know, we are a subcommittee of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform, and as such we have jurisdiction and oversight of national security, homeland security, and foreign policy. I’ve repeatedly implored the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence to open an investigation, but they have refused to take these matters seriously, so we in the House will do it if need be.”

  The politician’s rehearsed lines went over well, and it was apparent that his confidence grew as he came across as a bold, aggressive leader.

  “Congressman!” Darcy pushed her way through the throng to get in Shepherd’s face. He had to field the question. “Congressman, other reports suggest this is a witch hunt that you have orchestrated because of your personal vendetta against the highly decorated CIA officer Cole Cameron.”

  Darcy knew that the CIA didn’t usually like notoriety. It preferred to keep its business in the dark with the majority of awards or commendations given in secret. However, the incidents with Cole Cameron were of a public nature, and with the agency suffering from a battered reputation, the high-profile incidents gave the CIA an opportunity to mend its status. As a result, Cole Cameron had to deal with the publicity. Every major media outlet wanted in on the story. There were book offers and even TV and movie pitches, but Officer Cameron and others involved refused all of them. They had to if they wanted to keep their jobs, but more importantly, perhaps for their own security and safety, discretion was required.

  “This is outrageous.” The congressman was caught off guard.

  “Isn’t it true, sir, that there was an altercation between two of your staff members with the CIA officer just minutes before the incident at the Hilton Capital that occurred two months ago?”

  Shepherd gave a look to a staff member, who stepped in saying, “No further questions.”

  “I have a recording of the confrontation right here, sir. Would you like to hear it, Congressman Shepherd?” Darcy shouted.

  Shepherd and his staff turned and walked away.

  “I didn’t think so,” she said softly after seeing him turn tail and run. The other reporters around ate it up and quickly jotted down notes. They pushed toward her, grabbing at her and asking if they could get a copy of the recording.

  “Back off!” Darcy yelled. “Go do your own damn work.” The spunky journalist turned everyone away, and when she was finally clear, she sent a text message.

  It’s done.

  Nancy McCune looked at her phone as the vibration indicated the incoming message. THX, she replied. Then she saw Darcy’s quick response.

  You owe me.

  ✽✽✽

  Washington, DC – Hilton Capital Hotel

  The Russian SVR agent Katrina Nikolin confidently strolled in her high heels across the marble floor of the lobby. Wrapped in her form-fitting, short, black cocktail dress, she stole attention as she went directly to the elevators. She selec
ted the ninth floor and squeezed her small black purse, remembering her stay at the hotel with Grant Ramsey just two months earlier.

  How did my date get the same room Grant and I stayed in? she questioned.

  She knocked at the door of room 915, and her date answered the door with his robe flapping open and a drink of Scotch in his hand. He stood about five foot ten, with light brown hair, and was somewhat on the plump side for her, but this was work.

  “Emma, I’m assuming?” he asked. She nodded.

  “Come in, dear, come in,” he said, looking down the hall to make sure it was clear.

  “My, my, you are gorgeous.” He led her into the hotel room. “Can I pour you a drink, sweetie?”

  “Do you have Pinot Grigio?” Katrina asked in a honeyed voice.

  “Yes, my dear, I was informed of your preferences. I hope you approve of the selection.” He showed off the expensive bottle.

  “Excellent choice,” she said, batting her eyes with gratitude.

  The man cinched his white robe tight, poured the wine, and turned to hand Katrina her glass.

  “Here’s to letting go of the stress of the day,” he said, offering his glass for a toast.

  Katrina forced a smile and lifted her glass.

  The man has no idea what stress is, she thought to herself. She took her wayward thoughts captive and reminded herself she was there to do a job.

  “You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” the babbling idiot continued, motioning for her to sit on the couch. “Perhaps you saw the evening news, all of the reporters clamoring around, shoving their microphones in my face. The vociferation of it all sometimes is just overwhelming.” Congressman Shepherd fought to awe his attractive date.

  Katrina sat quietly sipping her glass of wine, uninspired by the man’s pathetic attempt to impress her.

  “You don’t talk much, do you, dear?” Shepherd’s confidence waned, and he started to appear agitated. He took another stab at making an impression.

  “You know, this is the same room that was used by the murderer in the incident a few weeks ago.”

  “Really?” Katrina feigned interest and knew she needed to step up her game.

  “Yes. It’s not public knowledge, dear, so please don’t repeat it. In my position, I am privileged to certain information. Actually, I was here at the Gala the night that it happened.”

  “Oh my! You must have been terrified,” Katrina said, putting her hand on his bare leg.

  “Well, thankfully we were able to get up here in time to save a few folks, or it could have been worse.” Shepherd bragged as if he had done something that night, not knowing that his date was fully aware of the details of the event.

  “I’m so lucky to have a date with someone as brave as you,” she said, fighting to keep up the act. She was weary of the game and wanted to get on with it. “Thank you for being so thoughtful with the wine and knowing my preferences.” She placed the glass on an end table. “I was informed of your preferences as well.” Katrina stood in front of Shepherd and pulled down the zipper of her dress, letting the garment drop to the floor.

  “Very nice,” Shepherd said.

  Katrina leaned over and slapped his face. He was stunned and held his red cheek.

  “No more talking. I’m in control now.” She pulled the tie on his robe out of its loops.

  “On the bed,” she commanded. Shepherd obeyed like a whipped pup. She pulled his hands back over his head and tied them up, then dragged her long nails deep into his chest, causing him to scream in pain. The SVR agent wanted to get him so worked up that his performance would be quick and—maybe if she was lucky—he would finish before he ever started.

  I think I’ll enjoy hurting this putrid excuse for a man, she thought.

  Chapter 5

  Leesburg, Virginia – Executive Airport at Godfrey Field

  Clear skies soared above the general aviation airport in the historic town of Leesburg that Wednesday morning. Cole brought the Cessna Skyhawk in for the last of three landings on runway thirty-five, bringing him current with FAA requirements for carrying passengers on the aircraft. He taxied the plane back to its assigned spot near the base of the tower, and his passengers settled themselves into the cramped cabin. Brittany and Hannah went to the back, and Jess joined her dad up front in the copilot seat.

  He could see that his daughter was excited about the experience. They plugged their headsets into the comm and received Cole’s safety instructions, including the sterile cockpit rule while taxiing or in takeoff and landing configurations or the traffic pattern of the airport. He knew Brittany would be the most challenged to remain quiet during those critical times.

  Soon they were airborne and heading north, turning to follow the Potomac River and staying low beneath the Class B airspace of Dulles Airport.

  “OK Jess, what’s your job?” Cole asked through the aviation headset to see what his daughter remembered.

  “To help you scan for traffic,” she said, alternating her glance between the glass screen cockpit display and the windshield.

  “Yeah, we don’t want another plane to hit us,” Brittany said from the back.

  “Brittany, why is this the first time you’re going with us?” Cole asked. He pointed to White’s Ferry below and provided commentary. The historic ferry was the only cable ferry service that carried cars, bicycles, and pedestrians across the Potomac River.

  “Jess used to ask, but my parents wouldn’t let me,” Brittany replied. “But now it’s my decision.”

  “Well, I hope you enjoy it,” Cole said. Along the route, he called out some of the sights: Tarara Winery, Port of Rock, Sandy Hook, and Harpers Ferry. They circled a couple of times over Harpers Ferry and headed to Shepherd Field, a regional airport in Martinsburg, West Virginia.

  “Not too happy about the name of this airport,” Cole grunted.

  “What is it?” Brittany asked from the back.

  “Shepherd Field,” Cole replied.

  “Oh God,” Hannah said, thinking of the shady politician. “I’m not the superstitious kind, but are you sure the runway is safe?”

  They touched down on the eighty-eight-hundred-foot runway and taxied to a stop. They all broke for the restroom before returning to the plane with Jess and Brittany swapping seats. Hannah had insisted on Brittany taking the copilot seat, knowing that she and Cole would have other opportunities. They took off again and headed back a different route. They flew south over Winchester, then banked east to follow Highway 7 back to Leesburg, crossing over the Shenandoah River. The landing at Godfrey Field was not quite as smooth as Cole had managed at Shepherd Field, and the bump caused Brittany to let out a scream. Everyone laughed as the plane slowed and turned off the runway.

  As Cole shut down and secured the plane and Jess climbed out of the back seat, Hannah leaned up and said, “That was awesome. Maybe sometime you and I can come back and take a trip.”

  “I would love that.”

  They grabbed lunch at the Melt and enjoyed the afternoon in historic downtown with the quaint shops and art exhibits. They all were exhausted as they piled into the Range Rover. The car ride was quiet as one of Jess’s playlists played softly. Cole held Hannah’s hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

  She smiled back.

  “Sorry about next week. I really wanted to go to Tennessee to meet your parents,” he whispered as he glanced in the mirror, seeing Jess smile as she put in her earbuds.

  “I know. I was looking forward to that too. I pulled back my time-off request, and I’ll save it for another time,” Hannah said.

  “I thought you wanted the week off before you start your new role?”

  Hannah’s interagency work had paid off, and she was scheduled to start a new position at the FBI’s National Counterterrorism Center (NCTC) after wrapping up some administrative tasks in her current role. She had plenty of earned time off, and now was the perfect chance to take it before diving into a supervisory role in a new office. But, unfortunately, Cole’s
schedule didn’t work with hers. It was a haunting reminder of the adverse circumstances their relationship faced. The odds were stacked against them with the two demanding careers.

  She squeezed his hand. “I’ll save it for when we can be together,” she said softly.

  “What about July fourth? We’ll make it a long weekend. Maybe even take off on the second or third—get almost a week out of it. McCune owes me, and I owe you so, let’s make it happen.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  Hannah leaned across and kissed his cheek.

  Sensing their resolution, Jess removed her earbuds. “Hannah, would you be willing to write a recommendation for me if I apply to the FBI summer internship next year?”

  Hannah turned around in her seat. “Yeah, sure. That’s a great idea if you’re seriously considering a career with the Bureau. I did it between my junior and senior years.”

  “Great, thanks,” Jess said, exchanging glances with her dad in the rearview mirror.

  “I guess you’re looking at the LA Division, right?” Hannah asked.

  “Actually, I was hoping to do it back here in DC.” Jess caught flash of her dad’s huge grin.

  “Oh my God! That’s awesome!” Brittany shrilled, causing everyone to jump in their seats. They all thought she had fallen asleep.

  “And, Dad, if it’s OK with you, I’d like to stay here through most of the summer and train with that Boggy guy that you and Mr. Capps work with. I can pay for most of it with the money I saved for our road trip.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Cole tried to hide his concern as he wondered if his daughter’s zeal would erode her lighthearted nature that he loved so much.

  “Just be careful that you don’t forget to smell the roses along the way here. You’re only young once, you know.”

  “Jess, what about our road trip?” Brittany asked in a melodramatic fashion.

  “We’ll go down to Virginia Beach for a few days. You can still come out and visit in California before you start back to school. Besides, I think Brent is going to be asking you out. Best you stay around here because I know you like him.”