Don't Order Dog: 1 (Jeri Halston Series)

by C. T. Wente

  Perhaps even worse, the e-mail he had sent to Alex three days ago had still gone unanswered.

  Maybe I am going off the deep end Tom thought bitterly before quickly dismissing the thought with a shrug. “No, no… I’m right, and I know it,” he muttered under his breath before emptying his beer glass.

  “Right about what?” Chip said, suddenly next to Tom as he slid back onto his stool.

  “What? Oh, nothing… just thinking out loud.” Tom fell into silence, visibly brooding as he stared at the empty beer glass in front of him.

  Chip watched him curiously for a moment before looking over at Jeri nestled in her corner behind the bar with her book. “Good lord… I leave for two minutes and the mood in the whole bar goes to hell.” He leaned towards Tom. “Wait, let me guess,” he whispered, nudging him on the shoulder. “You asked Jeri about the letters, didn’t you?”

  Tom shook his head. “I didn’t even get that far.”

  “Yeah, well, I could have warned you about that.”

  Tom suddenly reached over and grabbed Chip’s arm. He was once again surprised by the firmness of Chip’s muscles as the older man tensed in alarm.

  “Look Chip, I need to know something. Are you really worried about this guy Jeri’s getting letters from?”

  Chip’s eyes quickly lost their glint of humor as he gazed at Tom.

  “Of course I am. Why are you asking?”

  “Because I’m worried about him too. But the difference between you and me is that I’m in a position to do something about it.”

  Chip looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me show you,” Tom said, releasing Chip’s arm. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card, holding it out for the older man to see.

  Chip stared at the Federal crest emblazoned on the card and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re with the Department of Homeland Security?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Tom hissed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m an investigator with the ICE division of Homeland Security, and before I say anything else, I need your word that everything discussed here stays strictly between the two of us.”

  Chip furrowed his brow. “Do I strike you as the kind of guy that handles confidential information loosely?”

  Tom stared at Chip.

  “Yes, you have my word.”

  “Good,” Tom replied. He looked around again to make sure no one else was within earshot before glancing down the bar. Jeri was still coiled up in her corner absorbed in the thick book on her lap. “What I’m about to tell you is highly confidential,” he said quietly, still weighing his next words. Ethically speaking, Tom knew he was about to tread on shaky ground, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed the older man’s help. It was clear that Chip was the only man that Jeri appeared to trust – let alone like – which meant he was also Tom’s only hope of being an informant. Of course, the best way to control a potential informant was to “amp-up” the scale and seriousness of the situation. And as Tom now saw it, exaggerating the level of Federal Agency involvement was the most convincing way to do this.

  “I’m currently heading an investigation of potential terrorism involving the deaths of three individuals that have occurred within the last two months,” he said quietly, his voice low and serious. “And here’s what I know. Each of these individuals were either murdered or died under suspicious circumstances. Each of them was a researcher with the same large oil company. But what’s most interesting of all,” he paused and pointed at the far wall. “Is that each of them died at a time and location that exactly matches a letter pinned to that goddamn wall.”

  Chip looked at Tom disbelievingly. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered, his blue eyes wide with shock.

  “The first incident occurred in India,” Tom continued, “in what appears at first glance to have been a freak accident. The second incident involved a terrorist-style explosion inside a luxury hotel in Nigeria. And the third incident, perhaps the craziest one of all, involved the victim falling overboard from a yacht that was cruising off the coast of Venezuela and getting chopped into little pieces. India, Nigeria, Venezuela – all places Jeri’s little pen pal has visited, and each at the same time as our victims’ deaths. Now, you tell me, Chip… would you call that a coincidence?”

  Chip silently shook his head.

  “Of course, Homeland Security has limited international resources, at least directly, so the CIA is handling the majority of the on-site investigative work overseas. I’m handling the investigation here.” Tom slipped his business card back into his pocket and looked at the older man. “Chip, this situation is as serious as it gets.”

  Chip narrowed his eyes on Tom, as if sizing up his credibility.

  “How long have you been investigating this?” he asked.

  “Not long,” Tom said, improvising quickly. “Investigations into the deaths obviously started at the time of each incident, but I didn’t make the connection to Jeri’s mysterious letter writer until the night you and I first met. Immediately after that, I sent a report to my connections at the CIA. It’s been a ‘highest priority’ investigation ever since.”

  Chip nodded and took a long drink of his beer.

  “And why are you telling me all this?”

  Tom considered the question carefully. His answer would be critical in getting Chip to cooperate, but it was a delicate task. He needed to play heavily on the older man’s emotional attachment to Jeri, but not in a way that sounded dishonest or patronizing. He needed to be persuasive in his conviction, but not in a way that invited more questions about the details. In short, Tom thought morbidly, just as he’d done on that horrific night in Afghanistan, he again had to tell a perfect lie.

  “Because I need your help,” Tom replied firmly. “Look, you’re the reason this investigation is even happening. If you and I hadn’t met that night a few weeks back, my team would have never figured out that a rogue terrorist was responsible for murdering scientists in one of the world’s largest oil companies. Hell, you were the one that made me think this guy could be a killer in the first place. When this is over, our government and the entire fucking country will owe you a debt of gratitude. But for now, the painful truth is that, like it or not, you’re right in the center of this mess, and we need you to be our eyes and ears here as much as possible.”

  “And by ‘we’ you mean you and the Federal Government?” Chip replied, glaring at Tom wearily.

  Tom nodded his head. “Think about it Chip – you’re the perfect choice. You know this place as well as anyone, and you know the kind of people who normally hang out here. You’d be the first person to spot something that looked out of the ordinary. Plus, you already spend a lot of time here, so you won’t be changing your routine in a way that anyone would notice.”

  He paused and leaned in closer. “You’re also the closest thing to a friend Jeri has around here, which means you’d probably be the first person she’d talk to if anything happened outside of the bar.” Tom leaned back and took a sip of his drink. He could tell that his argument was having its intended effect on Chip, who was now sitting with his shoulders slumped sullenly as he silently pawed at his beer.

  A moment later, Chip turned and fixed his piercing blue eyes on Tom intently.

  “If I help you, it will only be for the same reason I’ve been hanging around here from the start – to make sure no harm comes to Jeri.”

  “Of course,” Tom replied.

  “My interest in this situation only goes so far as her safety,” the older man continued. “The rest of this matter is in your hands… and I sure as hell hope you and your agency friends know what you’re doing.”

  “Trust me… we do.”

  “So what exactly are you expecting me to do?”

  Tom shook his head as he reached into his jacket for his pen and notepad.

  “Nothing more than what you’re already doing, Chip. I just want you to keep an eye out.” He quickly scribbl
ed his phone number and tore out the page. “If anything happens, just call me at this number. I can be here in ten minutes.”

  Chip took the note and glanced at it doubtfully before tucking it into the pocket of his blue jeans. “And what about Jeri?” he asked quietly. “Are you planning to inform her that her pen pal might actually be an international terrorist?”

  Tom ignored the sarcasm in the older man’s voice. “The less she knows the better. Telling Jeri the truth would only terrify her, and anyone keeping tabs on her would notice a change in her behavior.”

  Chip chuckled as he pawed at the glass of beer in front of him.

  “What?” Tom asked.

  “That’s the unwritten policy of the Feds these days, isn’t it? Presume that no one is capable of handling the truth and keep them safely locked behind a wall of ignorance. Tell them nothing, even when their safety’s on the line.”

  “Look, Chip, that’s not–”

  “Or is this about the need to control the one person that can lead this guy into your hands?” Chip continued. “After all, you can’t have Jeri just up and leave for fear of her own safety now, can you? If she did, your tenuous little thread to this guy would vanish completely. Better that she doesn’t know anything and remain the tantalizing little bait you need to catch him with. She’s just a lowly expendable bartender anyway, right Tom?”

  Tom started to respond when his cell phone suddenly buzzed to life. He grunted irritably and dug it from his pocket. The screen on his phone identified the caller simply as Private. After debating for a moment, Tom pressed the answer button. “Tom Coleman.”

  “Tom, it’s Alex.”

  “Hi Alex,” Tom replied, keeping the surprise from his voice. In the ten years he’d known him, Tom couldn’t recall a single time his brother-in-law had actually called him. “How can I help you?”

  “You can start by telling me what the fuck you’re up to,” Alex replied, his voice low and threatening.

  Tom shifted uncomfortably on his barstool. “I apologize, Alex… would you mind if I called you back in a few minutes? I’m in the middle of something right now.”

  “Tom, whatever you’re in the middle of, you’ve got exactly ten minutes to get out of it and get your ass downtown. Meet me at Heritage Square by then, or I swear to god I’ll put a warrant out for your arrest.”

  “Wait… you’re here in Flagstaff?” Tom replied, the shock evident in his voice.

  “Ten minutes.”

  The line went dead the moment Alex finished his sentence. Tom kept the phone to his ear and smiled uneasily as he looked over at Chip. “Sounds good Alex, I will see you shortly.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket, his mind spinning.

  Alex was in Flagstaff.

  Something serious has happened.

  Tom quickly composed himself and turned to Chip.

  “Look Chip, I understand what–”

  “Sounds like you’re off to handle more important matters,” Chip interrupted as he grabbed a handful of peanuts from a bowl on the counter.

  “Sorry, but I have to go,” Tom said as he stood up from his stool.

  “Right, of course. Don’t worry, Agent Coleman… I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things,” Chip replied, giving Tom a clumsy military salute.

  “Please Chip,” Tom said in a low voice, “I just need to know if I can count on you.”

  The older man drained his glass and placed it gently back on the counter. “You already have my answer,” he answered, glancing up at Tom. “I’ll do my part in this. Just make sure you don’t screw up yours.”

  26.

  The red brick pavers of Heritage Square were hidden under a pristine blanket of glittering snow as Tom paced down its wide center path. The large outdoor courtyard, a popular spot for concerts and sunbathing co-eds in the summer, was now a cold deserted landscape of folk-art benches and low fieldstone walls in the center of Flagstaff’s old downtown. It was a short walk from Joe’s Last Stand Saloon, and just minutes after his brief conversation with Alex, Tom was sitting on one of the frigid steel benches, anxiously tapping his gloved fingers against his crossed arms as he waited for his brother-in-law’s arrival.

  He was dumbfounded that Alex was in Flagstaff. What the hell had happened that would make him come here? The question hung in Tom’s mind as the wind whistled softly through the leaf-stripped trees around him. Was it the email? He knew the email to his brother-in-law had been a gamble, but what did he have to lose? If his theory was wrong, Alex would dismiss it as he always did- as another nonsensical rant by his wife’s irritating younger brother.

  But what if he was right?

  Tom was still mulling over this question when he noticed two men walking north on Leroux Street. Both were ominous looking figures, dressed in heavy dark overcoats that concealed everything but the bottom seams of dark trousers and black, patent leather shoes. They stepped swiftly across the snow-covered intersection of Aspen Avenue directly towards the square.

  Tom shifted uneasily as he watched them approach.

  The two men stopped at the north end of the street and briefly exchanged words before one of the men nodded and continued north on Leroux Street. The other turned and walked directly towards Tom. As he passed under the street light, Tom immediately recognized the tall, athletic build and blonde hair of the approaching figure and stood to greet him.

  “Happy Holidays, Alex,” he said, reaching out his gloved hand.

  “Tom,” his brother-in-law said flatly, ignoring Tom’s hand as he gestured towards the street. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”

  “Sure,” Tom replied, a nervous weight pulling at his stomach.

  The two men walked silently along Aspen Avenue towards the populated stretch of bars and restaurants. Tom kept in pace next to Alex, trying to sense the nature of the conversation that was about to take place. He glanced casually over his shoulder to see if the other agent was following them, but the sidewalk behind them was empty.

  “So, how are Jane and the girls?” Tom asked, trying to ease the tension. “Jessica must be going on, what… five now?”

  “She’s nine, Tom,” Alex said coldly as he stared ahead, the steam of his breath trailing behind him. “But I’m not here to talk about the family. I’m here to get some answers from you.” He stopped suddenly and grabbed Tom’s jacket at the center of his chest “Starting with that fucking email you sent me last week.”

  Tom swallowed hard as he stared up at his brother-in-law. At six-foot-four, Alex stood more than a half-foot taller than him.

  “And since you’re family, I’m going to give you the chance to tell me the no-shit truth about everything going on here before I decide whether or not to bring you up on charges.”

  Tom’s eyes went wide. “Charges? For what?”

  “Withholding critical information in matters of National Security,” Alex replied matter-of-factly. “In a few minutes we’re going to be joined by one of my colleagues, and if you’re nervous now, you have no fucking idea what you’ll be in for if you don’t tell me what the hell this is all about.” He released his grip on Tom and continued walking. “I’ve played along with your game of trying to get into the CIA for the last several years because you’re my brother-in-law, but enough is enough. You needed help with knowing the inside workings of agency recruiting– fine. You needed some coaching on the entrance exams– no problem. I gave you every form of help I could possibly give you Tom, and guess what– you still blew it. That’s the truth of the matter. Now tell me,” Alex stopped again and faced Tom. “After everything I’ve done for you, are you honestly trying to use some kind of self-discovered intelligence on a possible terrorist as a bargaining chip to get into the agency?”

  Tom stared quietly back at his brother-in-law. At just thirty-two years old, Alex embodied everything the CIA looked for in an agent. He’d graduated from Penn State with a degree in criminal psychology before joining the Navy and undertaking the grueling task of becoming a SEAL. Despite the ultr
a-clandestine nature of the SEALs, Tom knew from his gloating sister that Alex had been a well-liked and highly respected commander of his team.

  Now, just four years after leaving the Navy and breezing through the CIA entrance exams, Alex was running ops for the agency’s Special Operations Group. He was smart, strong, and, when it came to his career in the agency, unflinchingly driven. He was everything Tom wanted to be, which is exactly why Tom hated him.

  “So I take it you did read my last email,” Tom replied.

  “Fuck you, Tom. How did you come into this information?”

  Tom shrugged. “I don’t get it. Three days ago I sent you an email about a theoretical connection between a series of seemingly unrelated incidents and you didn’t even respond. Now here you are in Flagstaff crawling up my ass and threatening me – your own brother-in-law – with a crime? Why is that?”

  “You know why, Tom.”

  “No, I don’t,” Tom replied, his mouth forming a smug grin. “That is, unless something happened in Kaliningrad.”

  Alex glanced around warily. Apart from a few young women standing by the door of a nearby restaurant, they were alone on the sidewalk. He looked at Tom and nodded slightly. “Keep walking.”

  The two men continued down the street.

  “Alright Tom, you want the truth? The truth is, you’ve pretty much blown all credibility with me in the last few years. In fact, I consider you to be about one I.Q. point above a goddamn idiot. But the information you presented in your email was compelling enough for me to pay attention. Your theory that the three deaths were linked was a stretch, but against my better judgment I put Kaliningrad on my watch list – just in case something happened.”