The Iscariot Factor (Half Staff Book 2)

by Rick Mitchell

  “It was Bradley who gave us the code name for the FBI file. Unfortunately for you it was also Bradley who gave you up as the analyst who wrote the final report. It did however take lot of convincing to get it out of him.

  “So these stupid denials are just going to end hurting you and your friend,” Bill said emotionless. “I need to know what the file revealed about our group. What does the FBI know about us, Cole? If you cooperate, I promise we will end it quickly, and as painlessly as possible.”

  Cole looked direct into the man’s eyes, and said, “Sir, again I have no idea who you think I am, but I do not know anything about a file. I don’t know any Sessions guy, nor am I acquainted with a Brad Wilson; you obviously have the wrong guy.”

  During his speech a television came on and pictures began scrolling of Cole and Brad spending time together at locations around Washington. Frame after frame of pictures from bars, parties, even at a Wizard’s basketball game. Bill watched as the color soon faded from Cole’s face.

  “You can’t say that I didn’t try to do it the easy way. I am going to give you a moment to consider this new information. I need to step out and take care of your buddy. You know; the one who you are not acquainted with. I now know now that he was correct; you are the one with all the answers. Which means that I no longer have a need for Mr. Wilson?”

  As Bill exited the room, Cole continued looking at the pictures scrolling across the screen, as emotions began to rise up in him. As he looked at each picture he thought of each of those moments in time. Brad was like a brother to Cole and if they had broken him, then so be it. He wasn’t about to hold it against him. They weren’t operatives trained to hold out against terrorist. As he waited for his captive to return, tears rose up in Coleman’s eyes.

  As the door opened, Cole saw Brad being wheeled into the room. As was Cole, Brad was bound to an office chair. Bill rolled the men beside each other and motioned them not to speak; he pointed to the television screen.

  A moment later a man appeared on the screen. Through tears it was Brad who first recognized the man was President Ward. Bill reached down and cut the straps holding the two men to the chairs and motioned for the rest of the men to exit the room.

  The President began speaking, “Mr. Wilson and Mr. Lansing, since I see both of you before me it must mean that you have both passed this exercise. Allow me to apologize for the manner in which this had to occur.

  “Fourteen months ago our country suffered a loss it will never fully recover from. That loss at the hands of a member of our Armed Forces was devastating. There are facts about the assassinations that were never shared with the public and I am solely responsible for withholding these facts. I would do it again under the same circumstance. Gentlemen, a single man did not take down a presidency, but a group of cowards hiding behind an innocent.

  “Believe me when I say I too want the truth to come forward; but not at the expense of our country. When we can uncover the roots of this evil we will be free to tell the story. Told prematurely we will lose any chance of finding those responsible for these atrocious crimes.

  “You two are undeniably the best in your field and our plan is to place you within a team of equally competent players; all searching for the answers needed to bring these criminals to justice.

  “Not being trained field agents we needed to see how you both would handle yourselves if captured. CIA Director Lake, aka Bill, told me you passed with flying colors. I wouldn’t feel badly about not recognizing him; I saw him after his makeup was applied and wouldn’t have either.

  “Director Lake is about to give you the oath and credentials necessary to make you CIA agents. You just proved that both of you can hold your tongues in dire circumstances; I expect no less of you now.

  “NSA Director Sessions is aware of your transfers but is not aware that we pulled you from your beds last night. Yes, it was just last night and I am certain by now Blake has bloodhounds out looking for you. Neither of you will contact Director Sessions, or the NSA, unless approved by your CIA team leader. There is a strong likelihood you will never return to your work at the NSA.

  “Director Lake is going to take you to meet with your team. Your team leader is CIA Deputy Director Pat Drice. I am sure his name is familiar to you as the head of my Security Detail within the Secret Service. You can trust Pat and the rest of the team. Director Lake is going to tell Pat that he can trust both of you to the fullest.

  “This mission is highly classified; you can count the people who know on two hands. We are putting much trust in you; do not let us down.”

  Once the live feed ended Lake had the two men taken to quarters where they could shower, grab a meal and discuss between themselves what had happened over the past few hours. Once clean and fed the Director had them escorted to his field office at Camp Peary, nicknamed, The Farm.

  Camp Peary was built in 1942 as a Seabee training post. Many of the Seabees were contractors who had previously worked on major construction projects in the United States, including men who had worked on the Hoover Dam. During World War II it became a secret German Prisoner of War Camp. The camp was mostly home to VIP prisoners, including a number of German submariners. Germany, not knowing of the camp, was led to believe these missing sailors were lost at sea.

  If lost at sea there was no reason for the German’s to change their clandestine codes. These captured code books allowed the U.S. to intercept and translate messages which proved vital in our victory over Germany.

  After World War II the government found other uses for the Camp, located just outside Williamsburg, Virginia. The Farms existence inside Camp Peary is said to take up roughly one hundred acres. It is located in an area called Biglers Mill, with the area closed to the public since 1951.

  Satellite images show several newer buildings and a five-thousand foot runway added some time since the early seventies. Never confirmed as the Central Intelligence Agencies clandestine training grounds, there have been a number of secrets find their way out. One reported on classified CIA training tactics and practiced techniques such as sleep deprivation, deliberately tainted food, and mock executions.

  When Wilson and Lansing were escorted into Director Lake’s field office the Director walked over to each man and shook their hands. When he reached Cole he apologized to the young man for slapping him so hard during the interrogation. Cole shook his hand and told the Director that he and Bradley had come to agreement that the mission must be incredibly important for the President to go to such measures. He assured the Director they were fully on board with whatever he needed.

  The Director smiled at the statement and asked them to raise their right hands. Now for his third time in three days he had them repeat the oath. After photographs and CIA credentials, Don told them how proud he was to have them aboard. Leaving the office all three were taken by car to a hangar half a mile away.

  Inside the hangar Brad Wilson was taken back when he saw what awaited them. The new Gulfstream G650-B was so sleek it looked as if it were doing Mach 1 just sitting still. He looked over at the Director and saw that he seemed surprised by the appearance of the plane also.

  The Director walked up to a man dressed in a white pilot’s shirt and asked where the plane had come from. The pilot pointed toward another gentleman who was standing a few feet away.

  “Are you Director Lake?” the man asked, extending his hand.

  “I am, and if you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”

  “Director, I am Sam Patterson, the Vice President of Government sales for Gulfstream; I am honored to meet you, Sir.”

  Shaking his hand, the Director asked, “And this aircraft, where did it come from? Hold that for a moment,” he motioned for his administrative assistant.

  “Agent Simms I don’t remember signing permission for a nongovernment employee to land here. Have we searched these people; checked their credentials?”

  The agent spoke nervously, “Yes and No, Sir. I had called our flight team requesting a je
t this morning; since yours is being used by Director Drice. And Sir, pointing to the craft, this is what showed up. I was in the process of checking with Langley when you arrived.”

  The Gulfstream employee, Sam Patterson, reached in his pocket to retrieve something when an agent motioned for him to freeze. The agent walked over, went into the pocket, and came out with a folded paper. The agent glimpsed at it, walked over and handed it to Director Lake.

  Lake read the card, and the men saw the tension of the last few minutes drain from his face. He spoke, “So Sam, you and the President are old college roommates?”

  “Yes Sir, he arraigned for me to deliver this aircraft to you this morning; said that he was calling in an old favor. Not sure what that might be, but hell, who am I to argue with the President of the United States.

  “We checked with your flight team and found that none of your pilots have been checked out on this new model so the President suggested Joe and myself fly you this morning. Sir, we are both fully rated on this aircraft?”

  The Director looked at the shiny new aircraft and back down to the note.

  Don started to just send over Air Force One but was afraid I could never get you out of it. So please accept this new aircraft as a token of my gratitude. For all you have done, and continue to do, for the country. I had my old friend Sam send me the brochure; it looks amazing. I understand you are the first in our government to have one. By the way, Sam is a great guy and I trust him unconditionally; Godspeed.

  Director Lake turned to his assistant, “Agent Simms, do a quick check for bugs on the craft and do a quick walk through with the dog. Also link the aircrafts sat system to our latest encryption keys. OK, let’s get this show on the road.”

  He looked over, “Sam, not that I don’t trust you but we have protocols in place and I don’t like the team to deviate from them. It will just take a few minutes and we can saddle up and be on our way. Maybe we can have a chance to speak later; you got any dirt on the President?”

  Sam laughing, “He cheats at cards. Haven’t been able to prove it but I’m sure that he does.”

  Don Lake smiling, “I’ve played with him and I can prove it. Just not stupid enough to accuse him of it. What do you know about our flight today?”

  “I know we are already dialed in for McLaren Airport, Las Vegas; that’s enough for me.”

  Wilson and Lansing smiled at each other at the mention of Vegas; they had visited Vegas on many occasions. They looked at each other knowing exactly what the other was thinking. This CIA gig might not end up being all that bad.

  Inside the jet Don walked to the rear of the aircraft, and tried to hold back a smile. The one-hundred foot long plane was designed to comfortably hold up to 18 people; and it was stunning. Lake decided that losing his earlier model G550 to his new Deputy Director wasn’t such a bad thing. Yeah, not a bad trade off at all.

  -----

  Donald Rayburn, aka John, had been the CEO of Execo Oil Corporation for over the last thirty years. His grandfather founded the company back in the fifties; located just south of Fort Worth, Texas.

  Execo had struggled in the early days, even during the eight years his father managed the company. After his father’s death, a heart attack at the age of forty-six, Donald had taken his place at the helm.

  Now a twenty billion dollar a year giant, they were currently fourth in petroleum acquisitions and seventh in production. Donald Rayburn was constantly exploring ways to stay ahead of the industry.

  Execo was one of the first to introduce fracking for natural gas, as large shale finds began to be discovered in a dozen states. When natural gas prices took hits they would move back to the oil fields.

  With the government began throwing tax dollars toward alternative energy, Donald invested in that play also. Often as silent partners in new energy start-ups in wind, solar, and wave power generation. He had even been part of a twenty million dollar grant to study the possibility of cold-fusion as a U.S. power source.

  Execo played on both ends of the street when it came to the political parties. The company would contribute what was legal and then Donald would have each of the executives send private donations. It wasn’t unheard of for him to pressure his vendors to contribute to his causes.

  Donald never personally gave to any party, or any one individual. He wanted to be looked on as neutral. He believed that it made him look independent; clean.

  As part of “the Disciples” John saw things differently. Donald allowed his long associated with the group to provide him with an alter ego. John leaned far right, as he believed most of the group also leaned. Although he questioned the thought processes of some of the younger members at times.

  It had been Donald who had first introduced Charles King to the disciples. As one of Execo’s attorneys, Charles and Donald had grown to become good friends. After a few years Donald asked Luke if he could approach Charles about joining their band of brothers. At first hesitate, Luke and the other members approved the contact. It didn’t take long before Charles, aka Matthew, had proven himself a valued disciple.

  When Donald had heard of Charles death, now a little over a year ago, he had questioned for a moment whether he wanted to end his relationship with the group. Losing his friend had hurt, and if truth be known Donald had never been keen on the plan to assassinate President Stephens. He argued that six months in office wasn’t time enough to form an adequate assessment of the new president.

  It was Charles who had talked Donald into going along with the plan. Charles said that this probably wasn’t a good time to go against Luke. He told his old friend it would be crazy to burn a bridge that was already hard to cross.

  As John waited for the encrypted call from the group he thought about how much he missed his old friend. Charles hadn’t needed to jump to his death and he would have found a way to get Charles out of that mess; even if it would have cost him a billion dollars. As he thought about his friend, the phone rang.

  Luke began the conference call by calling out the biblical names of the team. Each man answered as his name was called. “Thanks for taking the call on such short notice,” Luke said. “First order of business will go to Simon. Simon, do you have any news from the White House on our situation?”

  “I haven’t been able to get to the President but I did speak with my new Secret Service Director. She confirmed that Pat Drice has been moved to a position as Deputy Director of the Central Intelligence Agency,” Simon could hear breaths inhale across the line.

  “I pressed her but I’m telling you that she has no idea what the President is up to. I also found out that NSA Director Sessions and CIA Director Lake met with the President a couple of days ago. Again, I do not know what that was about.”

  Luke interrupted him, “Simon, in your wildest dreams do you believe Ward is going to open the book on what happened to President Stephens; is he that stupid? As we had discussed before, it could easily ruin his Presidency.”

  Simon pausing for affects, “I have no idea what the President is doing and it appears the new CIA Deputy Director has vanished. It was confirmed that two days ago he boarded the CIA Director’s personal plane and headed to parts unknown. I attempted to track the aircraft but they are not releasing flight plans.”

  Peter spoke up, “Simon is Lake traveling with him?”

  Simon answered, “Not clear, but I don’t think so. He was rumored to be at the Farm as late as yesterday.”

  Luke, clearing his throat, “Let’s sum up what we do know for sure. A conspiracy paper accurately spelling out our assassination of President Stephens has surfaced. We believe Pat Drice caught wind of it and gave it to the President. Once uncovered, Pat is named a Deputy Director of the CIA. The next day he is whisked away on the CIA Director’s private aircraft to parts yet unknown; this can only add up one-way.

  “The conspiracy paper was as much a shock to them as it was to us. They are wondering if the mole is ours or theirs. Drice has probably been sent to round up everyone who
knows the truth. His Air Force buddies, the hooker, the Morgan brother, and anyone else the President might have trusted with this information. The CIA cover allows the President the ability to lock them in a dungeon until he can sort out who wrote this damn report.”

  Thomas speaking, “Luke, I am not speaking for the rest of us but to me this makes perfect sense. I can’t imagine any scenario where the President would want this to come out. Maybe we can let him know somehow that we are as much in the dark as he?”

  Luke paused for a moment, “Guy’s we need to check ourselves and be one hundred percent sure none of us accidentally leaked this. Has anyone spoken to any of our junior members about the assassinations? Don’t get me wrong, I trust each of you wholeheartedly but if any one of us has spilled the beans on this we might find ourselves in deep crapola. We don’t want to find out once it's too late. There is a chance we have a Judas among us.”

  Simon speaking, “Thomas has a valid point. Maybe we could filter information to the President, possibly through Pat Drice and let him know we don’t want the information out either.”

  Luke shocked everyone with his reply, “I had nothing to do with its release but I am glad it hit the streets. I am sick and tired of having to sit by and do nothing while our country crumbles. It’s time for us to get out from under the covers.”

  John speaking, “Luke, tell me what has happened over the last fourteen months that would make you make such a statement. I can’t think of one thing in the short term, which needs our immediate attention.”

  Luke angry, “That’s because you and the others are sitting on your pots of Gold. I am fighting just to preserve status quo.”

  John answering, “I remember early on that we pledged that we would not allow our business interests to dictate our decisions. Any actions taken would be to collectively benefit the United States; not just ourselves.”