Pitch greeted her with a smile and politely said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
Trident shook her hand and mumbled something she could not understand.
“Uh, Trident, you could try to be coherent,” Pitch advised. To Ramona, he said, “Please forgive Mr. Manners here; he’s usually much more talkative, especially with the ladies. And as for the strong silent one,” he continued as he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Doom, “his personality is only slightly better than his call sign.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tucker stated looking at each of the three men in the eye. “Excuse me Edge, but can I talk to you privately for a second.”
“Sure. I’ll be right back, guys.”
When they had moved out of earshot of the group, Tucker demanded, “Okay what’s going on here?”
“I figured we could use the help,” was all Edge gave in response.
“Do you know something I don’t? If so, feel free to fill me in because if we plan to catch these bastards I need to know what you know,” Tucker fumed.
“I told you I wasn’t going to be caught off guard again. So I called in a part of my team to lend a hand, should the shit hit the fan again.”
“But why the secrecy?”
“I was testing a theory,” Edge said, unemotionally.
Edge’s minimal responses were beginning to rub Tucker the wrong way. I don’t have time to play guessing games. “And this theory would be?” Tucker asked through gritted teeth.
Edge stared back for a moment. Finally, he stated simply, “You’re compromised.”
۞۞۞۞
As Tucker and Edge stepped away, Ramona remained by Doom, Pitch, and Trident, standing with her arms crossed and briefcase at her feet. She found herself focusing on Tucker, idly watching his jacket moving in the cool mountain breeze as he walked, wondering what it was about him that had begun to intrigue her. Of course, there was the cute, nervous clumsiness when he was around her, but on this trip, she had seen a more solid, commanding aspect of him. Pulling herself back to the moment, she asked her company, “Now what do you suppose that’s all about?”
Trident nodded towards Edge. “That didn’t take him long.”
Everyone turned to see a very agitated Tucker talking with his hands while Edge stood calmly with his hands in his pockets.
“That’s gotta be a record,” Pitch commented.
“You know how suits are,” Trident added, “and you know the Sarge doesn’t hesitate to call ‘em out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ramona asked, clearing her throat.
“No offense, Agent Xuxa, but Spec Ops and suits simply don’t mix,” Pitch explained.
“You can say that again,” Trident added. “Man he looks pissed.”
“Doesn’t he look familiar to anyone?” asked Pitch.
“You’re slipping,” Doom replied. “That’s that analyst, Dante Tucker, from Nightwolf.”
“Name rings a bell.”
Pitch raised his eyebrows. “Wow, it’s been a long time. He looks…”
“Taller,” Trident finished.
Ramona felt like they were belittling Tucker and she was getting irritated. She felt like she had to defend his… she wasn’t sure what. “To set things straight, Tucker doesn’t like people getting killed on his watch. The victims in Miami are very much on his mind, and he recently lost two men on an op gone wrong.”
“Hell if that doesn’t sound like someone we know,” Doom said slowly.
“Anyway, what are they talking about, Doom?” Trident asked, abruptly changing the conversation.
“Well I can’t make out what Sarge is saying with his back to us, but the suit is asking a bunch of questions,” he reported, purposely vague.
“And how do you know that?” Ramona snapped, annoyed that she felt like they were having a conversation in a language she couldn’t follow.
After a momentary silence, Doom replied, “Well, looking into a scope down range has taught me a lot of things. The ability to read lips just happens to be one of them.”
۞۞۞۞
“What do you mean ‘compromised’?” Tucker asked, barely holding back his desire to shout. He knew Edge had to have a logical reason, but the sting of the implication that he was the cause of the issue was a bit hard to swallow.
“Think about it; every time you give an update on the investigation the Order manages to find us, attack, and nearly kill us.”
“Well, it’s not hard to believe after encountering them that they’ve probably hacked my phone like I said before,” Tucker replied, annoyed at the seemingly pointless fact. “That hardly makes me compromised; they’ve probably got your phone tapped, too.”
Edge replied without expression. “True, but I didn’t make any calls before we went to the bank tower.” He watched Tucker ponder the comment nod in agreement. “Besides it’s not the phone: you’ve swapped phones enough, including land lines they have reason to suspect you’d use, that the odds of them covering all the phones you’ve reported updates with is negligible. The only common factor is who is getting the messages.”
“So you think the mole is someone I’ve been talking to? Come on! The only person I’ve called about this was…” Tucker stopped as he realized the implication.
Edge gave a slight nod.
Tucker was furious; first, because of the insult to his boss and second, because he could not reconcile the two realities. “Hold on. So you’re trying to tell me that a Vietnam vet, long time patriot, and Director of the CIA is behind the Order? I could agree with your paranoia about rogue organizations, but this is too much. There’s no way he’s involved,” Tucker denied.
“Come on Tucker, use that intelligent brain of yours and put it together,” Edge prompted. “Every single time we advised Winford of our plans, the Order showed up. For Christ sakes, he, Reid and Webster, were the only ones that knew we were going to the cabin, besides the kid. Reid’s dead and Webster’s wounded. I doubt they were working for them. I didn’t tell you about bringing in my team so that you couldn’t tell him in case I’m right. That way, if the Order does show up, we have an advantage. And if he’s not behind this then we have nothing to worry about.”
The notion of Winford being the enemy shook Tucker to the core. He had always held Winford in the highest esteem and, if Edge was correct, his entire value structure was going to have to be re-evaluated, like assessing the viability of a house after an earthquake.
“If, and I do mean if, your assumptions are correct, why would a man who has received both the Congressional Medal of Honor and the Purple Heart for his military actions, who practically rebuilt the CIA, do something like this?”
“Not sure about that yet,” Edge admitted. “But remember, you serve the office of the DCI, not the man in it. You may admire the man in the position now, but men have faults, and sometimes they change. That’s something I know you’ll figure out,” Edge said, placing a firm hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “Collect your evidence for now and we’ll bring in all those responsible, no matter who it is. The important thing is not allowing your emotions to interfere with your judgment. Understood?”
“Yeah, I gotcha,” Tucker replied, calming down. He wasn’t happy with it, but Edge was right; they would have to work this out later. For now, they had to focus on the missile facility.
Tucker paused a second to get his thoughts together while Edge returned to the group. He couldn’t look unbalanced around them, although he figured they probably already saw his reaction. Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot, he thought as he rejoined the group.
“Ramona,” Edge said as he approached, “as I explained to Tucker, my team will accompany us on our visit to the facility. I know that their clearances haven’t been established according to normal protocol. Sorry to make you wing it, but there’s simply no time to fill you in on everything. What Tucker and I need right now is for you to get us into that facility. If the Order has more of those weapons, clearances are the least of your worries.”
“Now that the family reunion is over, how about we get going,” Tucker urged. He had come to terms with putting the Winford thing on the back burner for the moment, and he was now eager to move the investigation forward.
“He’s right,” Edge agreed. “It’s nice to sit and chat, but the Order isn’t going to wait around for us. I need to update you three, but this place is a little too public.” He looked at his team as he took out a map from his coat pocket. “There are several rest stops before we get on the path to the facility; we can stop at one of them and finalize the plan. I just don’t want peering eyes seeing any more of what we’re planning.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tucker accorded.
With no further objections, Edge placed the map back into his pocket, “Let’s move out.”
۞۞۞۞
As they drove through the Siuslaw National Forest, Tucker tried to keep his mind on the immediate mission, namely investigation of the saw-mill turned missile factory. What was even more immediate, though, was the fact that Ramona was sitting next to him in the midst of the most beautiful setting he could imagine and the desire to tell her how he felt about her was simply overwhelming.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it,” she said.
It sure is, Tucker thought looking over at her as she gazed out the passenger window.
Aloud, he said, “Yeah, it’s amazing how places like this still exist.” He glanced at her smooth figure, not knowing what else to say. There was something about a woman in a business suit, especially when the woman wearing it was Ramona Xuxa.
“Wish I got to come to these places more often. For some reason it helps me forget about how screwed up the world is,” she shared.
The more he got to speak with her, the more Tucker found that they shared common views and interests. He was going to have to figure out how to justify more trips like this.
“It does have that cleansing effect,” Tucker agreed. “Make it seem like nothing matters right now. I could get lost in here for a while.”
A voice came from the backseat joining in the conversation. “Please don’t get lost. I would like to find this place before the Order does.”
“Edge,” Tucker said, irritated that the moment had been blown, “after we hit the rest stop, how about you go chaperone your bros in the other jeep?”
“Ooh! Testy, testy,” Edge teased, as Ramona laughed lightly.
“Don’t worry Edge, we’re still on track,” Tucker assured him. “According to the map, we’re just shy of a half hour-ish-ness.”
“Very precise, Mr. Analyst,” Ramona commented.
“Yeah, well I’m not exactly Mr. Tracker,” Tucker replied as the map was snatched out of his hand.
“Thankfully, I am,” Edge asserted. “I see a rest stop a few miles up the road. Why don’t we stop there, do a little planning.”
Tucker came to a halt in the empty rest stop and Doom, Pitch, and Trident pulled their vehicle in behind him. Edge scanned the parking lot through his reflective shades, looking for potential eavesdroppers. Seeing only four bright blue port-o-potties in the distance, and hearing only the sound of a woodpecker working hard nearby, he concluded that they had the needed privacy.
Tucker grabbed his brown leather bag from the back seat and walked over to a nearby picnic table. He removed the contents from the bag and booted up his laptop. He laid down a photo, and everyone positioned themselves to look over his shoulder.
“Okay, here’s how this all started,” Tucker spelled out. “Approximately six days ago this man,” Tucker pointed to a picture of Nezaket, “was assassinated or executed; we’re not sure which, in his cabin in an isolated area of the Everglades.”
“Is that who I think it is?” asked Pitch.
“Sure is,” answered Trident.
“Gamze Nezaket,” Tucker confirmed. “CEO of Turkish Petroleum Incorporated. Given that he is no longer amongst the living, we can’t question him. We believe he had a hand in the Miami bombings; he wasn’t the mastermind but a facilitator in some capacity for an, until recently, below-the-radar organization called the ‘Order of the Phoenix.’”
“Cliché,” Trident murmured to Pitch, “yet catchy.”
Tucker continued his exposition, “The missiles used in the attack were created in the facility up ahead. Our job is to go into the facility and determine how a handful of them decided to go missing and ended up in the hands of the Order without raising a red flag.”
Doom scratched his head, “The only thing ahead is a logging company according to the road signs.”
“Well then the cover operation is doing what it is supposed to,” Ramona said as she took the laptop and began bringing up blueprints. “The logging company is just a cover up for what lies forty feet below the surface: two hundred and thirty acres dedicated to the construction of AM/P-B technology. This is the basic layout of the facility.” She displayed the screen of the laptop for everyone to see.
“Shit, all that’s underneath these mountains?” Trident asked in astonishment, summing up everyone’s thoughts. “Pardon, my French.”
“Yes, all that’s under these mountains, and it’s locked down tighter than Fort Knox,” Ramona informed them. “There are four departments to the facility: living quarters, offices, labs and the manufacturing floor, which is the largest part. Both civilian and US military personnel operate in the facility.”
“And who is this facility director?” Trident asked.
“That would be a man by the name of Randolph Quinn,” she replied.
“What’s all we have on him?” Edge inquired.
“All I know is that he spent somewhat under two years in the Navy. Rumor has it that his loving parents managed to accelerate his discharge because they felt the navy was too dangerous for him, you know, with the war on and all. From there he slid straight into the role of Director and now he’s as civilian, as bureaucrat as they come.”
“So he’s an over privileged slacker,” Pitch summed up bluntly.
“You could put it that way,” Ramona agreed.
“And who are his over-connected parents?” Edge inquired.
“You must have heard of Senator Madeline Quinn of Texas and her husband, Governor Ken Quinn?”
“’Fraid not,” Edge refuted.
“Well, let’s just say money isn’t an issue for them.”
“So this is a civilian facility?” Pitch asked.
“Yes, it’s technically a civilian facility, but that doesn’t stop Uncle Sam from implementing military security throughout.”
“And by military security you mean Military Police,' right?” Pitch questioned back.
“From what I read, the procedures for hiring are standard military, but for staffing the military provided candidates and Quinn was given a choice of who to hire,” Edge explained.
“Oh that’s not bad then,” Pitch said as he dropped his arms to a more relaxed position.”
Tucker looked confused. “How so? They’re trained military personnel.”
Trident spoke up this time. “Yeah; who work for a private manufacturing company, not an accredited security company that gets audited for compliance. That means they’ve become fat, slow and lazy. The most action any of them has seen in the past three years is in multiplayer games. They shouldn’t be much of a threat; I could take over this place single-handedly.”
“Now, what are the odds the Order knows that?” Tucker asked looking to Edge.
“Hence the backup,” he replied gesturing to his team. “Okay everyone, time’s a-wasting.”
Tucker and Ramona returned to their vehicle; Edge stayed behind to address his team one last time.
“They’re coming,” Edge assured them. “I’m a hundred percent certain. They pack serious firepower. Our job is to protect whatever info we get, and them,” he pointed to Tucker and Ramona, “not to mention any civilians that get caught in the middle.”
; “Well damn, man, I thought you were going to give us something hard. Packed my good sidearm for nothing,” Doom joked.
“They’re planning on us being here,” Edge reiterated. “This is where they can make us disappear. They’ve failed twice so far because they underestimated us and we got lucky, but two good men died in the process. I don’t think they’re going to go surgical this time. They’re going to scorch the earth.”
“They better be careful what they wish for,” Trident said, fixing his glasses.
“My thoughts exactly. See ya there,” Edge finished.
The group dispersed. As Edge walked to the car, he looked at Tucker, who once again was attempting to read the map. I hope you learned something in those battles, he thought to Tucker. You’re gonna need it today.
Chapter 9
The road to the lumberyard was barely more than a trail. It was well-maintained and remarkably smooth for a dirt road, but it was narrow. The trees on either side arched across it and kept it in perpetual shadow. Seen from above, it was completely invisible: there was only the main road and, a great distance into an unbroken forest, a small clearing.
After driving through the forest for what seemed like forever, especially since they were practically sitting on top of one another, the team finally reached the facility. It was in a clearing a few hundred yards on a side and looked every bit the lumber mill it pretended to be. The only anomaly in the picture was a twelve-foot high electrical fence topped with razor wire around the circumference of the facility.
If this is a lumberyard, it must house the world’s most expensive wood; Tucker couldn’t help but think.
Tucker brought the vehicle to a stop at the gate and two men in thick plaid shirts, blue jeans, and heavy work boots appeared from inside the booth. One walked towards the cars, while the other stood at the door, leaning on his right arm. Even through the layers of clothing Edge saw the faint outline of body armor.
There was doubt that the man that was leaning on the booth had his hand on an emergency switch, which Edge expected to be a routine security procedure. He also noticed that a few other men had casually walked into view, stopping to talk by crates that probably held weapons of some sort, another security tactic.
Rise of the Pheonix: Act 2 Page 10