V Plague (Book 13): Exodus

by Dirk Patton

  “Should have stayed in the goddamn Army,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “I’ve heard that a lot, lately.”

  I looked up to see my wife, Katie, standing in the doorway to my home office. She was dressed in a lightweight summer dress, purse over her shoulder. Must be shopping time.

  “Tired of computers,” I smiled, standing up and wrapping my arms around her.

  She snuggled against me for a moment before stepping away and making a production of fanning herself.

  “I know you’re trying to save money, but it’s hotter than hell in here. Turn the damn AC down!”

  “You saw our electric bill last month,” I said, taking a quick peek at the laptop. “You know how much ammo I could have bought for that?”

  “Would ammo keep the house cooler?”

  She stepped close and kissed me.

  “Going for coffee with the girls. Want anything?”

  “Depends on what you’re offering,” I said, reaching for her.

  Katie laughed, nimbly dodged my clumsy grasp and dashed for the door.

  “See you in a couple of hours,” she called over her shoulder, then was gone.

  “That’s why I didn’t stay in the Army,” I said, smiling as I went back into my office and looked at the laptop screen.

  The damn thing still wasn’t ready, doing nothing other than showing a blank screen with a spinning cursor. Slamming the lid, I walked down the hall to the master bedroom.

  I had to get on a plane to Atlanta the next morning, and owed my anal-retentive boss an activity report on two of our clients. I should have sat back down and dealt with my computer issues and cranked it out, but I wasn’t in the mood. Besides, I had a four-hour flight ahead of me. Plenty of time to create the corporate drivel that was expected of me.

  Changing clothes, I got into my truck and drove to the gym. A hard workout would probably do wonders for my poor attitude. And, as usual, it did. A couple of hours later I pulled back into the garage at home, having to squeeze far to the left because of the way Katie parks her car.

  I looked at the tiny little Mercedes and sighed. Normally, Katie drops me off at the terminal when I’m traveling, but our schedules didn’t line up this time. And, because my truck was too tall to fit into the airport parking garage, I was going to have to shoehorn my big ass into the cramped roadster and drive myself.

  “Figured that’s where you were,” Katie said when I walked into the house.

  “Couldn’t take the computer any longer,” I smiled. “How was coffee?”

  She followed me into the bath as I stripped off my sweat soaked clothes and cranked on the shower.

  “Boring,” she said with a shrug.

  “Thought you liked having coffee with them,” I said, stepping under the running water.

  Katie leaned against the bathroom counter, watching me through the clear glass shower door.

  “It’s not that,” she said. “I just get tired of hearing them complain about their husbands. Seems as if that’s all they can do.”

  “Not everyone gets as lucky as you,” I said, leaning in to rinse soap off my shaved head.

  A moment later the water briefly turned scalding hot, like it does when someone flushes the adjacent toilet while the shower’s running. With a yelp, I jumped back and nearly slipped and fell on my ass. Blinking soapy water out of my eyes, I peered at Katie who was in precisely the same pose she’d been in.

  “Something wrong?” She asked innocently.

  “Yuck it up, chuckles,” I growled. “You’ll get yours!”

  “I’m counting on it!”

  She smiled sweetly and left the bathroom.

  Several hours later we were sitting on our patio, enjoying the relatively cooler evening air. The sun had been down for a couple of hours, but it was still over one hundred degrees. Well, that’s Arizona for you.

  My bag was already packed and in the trunk of the Mercedes, ready to go early the next morning. I was tired of traveling for work and had dragged my feet while I was getting everything ready to go. Well, to be completely truthful, I didn’t mind the travel. It was the job. The money and benefits were good, there was no denying that, but the job was soul-sucking. At least for someone like me.

  I never liked being indoors or having to make polite conversation with people I didn’t respect or even care about. And, I sure as hell didn’t like never being able to get anything done without it having to be discussed, ad nauseam, by a committee. I should have stayed in the Army, I thought to myself with a snort.

  “What’s funny?” Katie asked.

  We’d been taking frequent dips in the pool to stay cool, and as soon as the sun had gone down, the bathing suits had come off. Now, she lounged on a chair next to me, faint moonlight gleaming off her bare skin.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “Thinking about the trip tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Don’t want to go.”

  “Don’t want you to go.”

  “No choice,” I said.

  “Always a choice,” Katie said, fluffing her damp hair so it would dry faster. “Just might not be the choice you think you want.”

  I looked sideways at her, drained the last of my second margarita and lit a cigarette.

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “Means that it’s abundantly clear you’re miserable. You hate your job. So, quit!”

  I snorted, smoke shooting out of my nose.

  “And do what? We’ve still got bills to pay, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Don’t be an ass,” Katie chided. “We can get by on far less. We did when you were in the Army. You make twenty times that now. So, we scale back. We’ve got savings. We sell the house and my car. Get some property out in the boonies and enjoy life again. You think I like it when you’re gone? It sucks!”

  “Can I get a dog?” I asked, not really believing she was serious.

  “I’m not kidding,” Katie said, turning in her chair to face me. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. We need a change. Neither of us are happy.”

  “You are serious,” I said, surprised.

  “Totally. So, what do you think?”

  “I think I need to think about it,” I said. “That’s a hell of a change you’re talking about.”

  Katie shrugged her shoulders, then we both looked at the door into the house when the phone began ringing. It was our home phone, an actual landline. The only reason we even had it was if I needed to send a fax.

  “Let it ring,” Katie said. “No one has that number.”

  The line didn’t have voice mail, and the fax machine wasn’t set up to answer, so the annoying bell just kept sounding. After what must have been twenty rings, it fell silent. Then, seconds later, started again.

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Katie snapped, jumping to her feet and stomping into the house.

  I chuckled, expecting a telemarketer was about to lose a sizable chunk of his or her ass. But when she walked back out she was holding the phone pressed tightly against a bare breast to cover the microphone. I frowned a question at her.

  “For you,” she said quietly. “Says his name is Nitro.”

  I sat there for a couple of seconds, memories flooding in. Extending my hand, I took the phone from Katie.

  “Nitro?”

  “Boss! How the hell are you?”

  There was no doubt. This was the voice I remembered, barrio accent included.

  “What the hell? Are you in town?”

  “No, nothing like that. Listen, boss. I’m real sorry about this, but I need a favor. You know who I went to work for after Delta, right?”

  “I heard rumors. Couple of guys were talking about it at Spider’s funeral. By the way, where the fuck were you?”

  Nitro was quiet for several seconds before continuing in a much more subdued voice.

  “Sorry, boss. I was out of the country. Didn’t find out until I got back, and that was a couple months after the fact.”<
br />
  I didn’t say anything. Wasn’t sure what to say, or what favor he could possibly want. I hadn’t seen or talked to Nitro in a long time. We’d been as close as teammates can be. We were brothers. But that didn’t mean we were the kind of friends that stayed in touch to talk about what was going on in our lives.

  “So, ‘bout why I called, boss. You remember our trip? The one where we spent a few weeks with the Aussies?”

  “Yeah. I remember it like it was yesterday,” I said.

  “Well, this is about one of those guys that tagged along. Not the tall, thin one that could keep up with Poon on our runs, the other one. Know who I’m talking about?”

  “Yes,” I said, sitting forward and lighting another smoke.

  I knew exactly who he was talking about. A CIA agent that called himself Delker. He and I had come to blows, and as we were getting ready for extraction he’d made some threats against Katie that had resulted in me pointing a gun at his face.

  “What’s going on, Nitro? Should we be talking about this on the phone?”

  I could tell Katie was intrigued, hanging on every word I said, but I ignored her for the moment.

  “Got no choice,” he said. “Man’s up to something bad. Real bad, and we’ve got to do something about it. That’s why I’m calling. My new boss is standing here next to me, and he’s got some questions. We was hoping you’d be willing to talk to him.”

  “Hold on,” I said, covering the mouthpiece on the phone with my hand before Nitro could answer.

  “What?” Katie asked.

  I started to speak, then changed my mind and led the way into the house. Our neighbors weren’t close, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in the open.

  “Remember my trip to Africa? Right after we got married?”

  Katie nodded.

  “The CIA guy that went with us. Nitro’s with a PMC. They’ve got a job that’s got something to do with him, and his boss wants to ask me some questions.”

  “About what?” Katie asked, looking concerned.

  “Nitro said he’s into some bad shit and they’ve got to move quickly.”

  “If you talk about a serving Agency officer, and the CIA gets wind of it, you’re going to be in a world of shit,” she breathed.

  “I don’t even know what I could tell them,” I said. “I don’t know anything about the prick.”

  “Then tell them that and get the fuck off the phone!” Katie said.

  I thought about it for a long moment, then raised the phone back to my ear.

  “OK, Nitro. Put him on.”

  “Thanks, boss!”

  “Don’t thank me. I didn’t say I was going to answer any of his questions.”

  There was a scuffling sound as the phone on that end was passed over, then a new voice sounded in my ear.

  “Master Sergeant Chase, thank you for speaking with me.”

  “Who am I speaking with?” I asked.

  “My name is Sean Thompson. Retired Colonel, third battalion Rangers.”

  “You know the only reason we’re speaking is because of Nitro? And even then, I’m not at all happy about having this conversation. It’s dangerous for both of us.”

  “I understand and appreciate that, but the gentleman we’re discussing is involved in something that is potentially catastrophic for our nation.”

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me what that is?” I asked.

  “Not on an open line, no.”

  I nodded my head, not surprised in the least.

  “Ask your questions, Colonel. I’ll answer if I can.”

  Katie gave me a look and shook her head, but didn’t interrupt.

  11

  Sean kissed his wife goodbye, holding her tight against him. The Black Hawk pilot fed in throttle, the big rotor speeding up until it was creating a hurricane around them. It was his not so subtle way of saying it was time to go. With one last kiss, Anna broke away and dashed to the side door of the waiting helicopter. Nitro leaned out, hand extended, and helped her in. The aircraft immediately left the ground, Anna turning and waving to Sean. He stood in place, watching until she was out of sight.

  “Ready, boss?”

  Sean turned to see Boogie standing a couple of yards behind him. The other three members of his team waited on the patio with Bill. They all towered over the older man, heads bent as they listened with rapt attention. From the way he was using his hands, Sean was sure he was telling a story about flying a combat mission.

  “Let’s go.”

  The men picked up their gear and headed for the front courtyard where a Suburban that belonged to Thompson Aviation waited for them. Piling in, they drove a short distance to an uncontrolled airfield. A twin-engine Beechcraft gleamed in the moonlight, and Boogie brought them to a stop a few yards off its port wing.

  It only took a few minutes for Bill to complete his pre-flight walk around. While he did this, the men squeezed into the cramped cabin. Satisfied with the readiness of the aircraft, Bill got behind the controls and started the engines.

  “How is it a helicopter pilot can fly a plane?” Boogie shouted from the back seat.

  “Who said I could fly this thing?”

  Bill grinned and shoved the throttles all the way to their stops. Engines roaring, the plane leapt forward, throwing all the passengers back in their seats. They raced down the smooth dirt strip, becoming airborne well before the end.

  As the plane climbed, the men settled in for the trip. They were flying into another uncontrolled field in the Virginia countryside, then would drive to their target’s home in Richmond. Vehicles were already waiting for them, as well as an empty warehouse in nearby Alexandria where they would take Delker for interrogation. All of this had been arranged through Sean’s contacts in the PMC world.

  The flight was less than three hours, Bill setting them onto the tarmac with a barely perceptible bump. By this time, Boogie had settled down, putting his war face on. The time for joking was over. They were going to work.

  Transitioning from the plane to a pair of Suburbans, they were quickly on the road. It was early morning, beyond the worst of rush hour, but traffic was still heavy. As an operator called Billy the Kid, or just Kid, drove the lead vehicle, Sean brooded in the passenger seat.

  He was not at all happy about what they were doing. Not the fact that they were going to kidnap and torture a CIA officer. That didn’t particularly bother him. He was worried about the time crunch they were operating under. This wasn’t a snatch and grab of some third world shithead. This was dramatically different.

  They were operating in an American city, and the subject was a trained operator and intelligence officer. By definition, that made him a hard target. And, to make matters worse, if he or his team made one mistake, there were probably about a hundred neighbors who would pick up a phone and dial 9-1-1. Despite the importance of what they were doing, he wasn’t going to start shooting at cops.

  Monk, one of the operators who’d gone to Nevada with Anna, had pulled up digital maps and images of their target’s home the previous evening. The team that was making the grab had spent several hours going over every detail as they put their plan together. All things considered, it appeared to be reasonably easy. At least on the surface.

  Sean had confidence in his team. They were all very experienced. Knew what they were doing, and time and time again had shown their ability to improvise when a plan went to shit. Reassuring himself, he let out a sigh and stared through the windshield at the cars and trucks streaming into Richmond.

  A few miles later, a phone rang, and Sean twisted around in his seat to see who had violated one of his standing orders. Bill winked at him as he retrieved a cheap, disposable cell from his shirt pocket.

  “Burner,” he said before answering it.

  Sean nodded, unhappy, but keeping it to himself for the moment. He watched as Bill listened for a few seconds.

  “Target’s on the move,” Bill said.

  “Where?” Sean snapped,
worried about the unexpected wrinkle.

  “Northbound on 295.”

  “North or south of 64?” Kid asked, looking at the built-in navigation screen.

  “South,” Bill answered after relaying the question.

  “Talk to me, Kid!” Sean barked.

  “We’re on 895,” he answered, looking between the road and the screen as he talked. “Intersect with 295 in three miles.”

  “Bill, give me that,” Sean said, twisting around and taking the phone.

  He barked into the handset, looking at the navigation as he listened to an answer to his question. After a few more questions, he closed the phone and tossed it into a cup holder.

  “Maintain your speed and merge onto 295 north. We should get on less than a mile behind him. Looking for a silver Chevy Malibu.”

  He recited the license plate and sat back in his seat.

  “How we gonna do this, boss?” Kid asked, changing lanes to be ready for the exit ramp. “Whole different ball game than grabbing the guy while he’s in his jammies.”

  “Acquire the target and follow. We try this on the freeway, we’ll have cops crawling up our asses.”

  “Roger that,” Kid said, checking the mirror to make sure Boogie was staying close.

  “What if he’s going to Langley?” Bill asked from behind.

  “Fuck,” Sean said.

  He leaned sideways to look at the screen as Kid merged onto the ramp for northbound 295. It took some time for him to figure out how to use the system, and a little longer to gather the information he needed.

  “Silver Malibu. Hundred yards, left lane,” Kid said, drawing Sean’s attention to the windshield.

  “See the plate?” Sean asked.

  “That’s him,” Poon said from the back seat.

  Sean glanced over his shoulder. Poon was holding a small, sniper’s spotting scope to his eye, watching the target vehicle.

  “OK, Kid, stay with him. If he sees us, we’re fucked.”

  “Like a ghost, Kemosabe,” Kid said.

  “What are we doing?” Bill asked. “If he gets to Langley, we can’t touch him.”

  “Well aware of that, Bill,” Sean said, more patiently than he felt. “If he gets on 95 North, that’s probably where he’s going. Let’s just wait and see.”