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

by C. T. Wente

  “Yesterday morning at approximately 8am local time, local authorities were notified of gunfire at a workers dormitory in the city of Dongying’s industrial district. When authorities arrived at the scene, they found an armed and incoherent US military sergeant by the name of Andrew Kearney standing over the bodies of two men. One of the bodies is believed to be that of a Chinese scientist named Chung Zhu, who had been reported missing a few days prior. His body indicates evidence of brutal torture, including several gunshots to the chest which, while not confirmed, Chinese authorities believe match our military officer’s handgun.”

  McCarthy quickly flipped to the next page of the report.

  “The second body is believed to be that of an American named Rick Martin. Martin was found with two bullet wounds from a high-powered rifle. An examination of Martin’s body produced two items worthy of mention – a compact .22-caliber handgun in his right hand, and a Polaroid photo of the slain Zhu in his coat pocket. Chinese authorities also found a high-powered military sniper rifle on the rooftop of the nearest dormitory building in the compound. The fingerprints on the rifle match those of Sergeant Kearney.”

  The Deputy Secretary dropped the report and gazed over her reading glasses at Alex. “Martin was an agent for the Department of Homeland Security.”

  Alex’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm. “With all due respect, ma’am, that sounds rather unbelievable.”

  The Deputy Secretary raised her index finger. “Ah, but this story gets even better, Agent Murstead. You see, last night, about four hours before this nightmare officially landed on my desk, I received a call from Jack Preston, the Department of Homeland Security’s Western Divisional Director. After a few minutes of awkward conversation, Director Preston dropped something of a bombshell on me. He admitted to grossly violating protocol and sending one of his agents – Agent Martin as it turns out – on a little field trip to Dongying. Apparently he’d been sent to monitor one or possibly two men Preston believed were part of a terrorist cell that, according to him, have been assassinating employees of the Petronus Energy Corporation.”

  The mention of Petronus Energy suddenly brought Alex to full alert. He nervously adjusted himself in his chair as the Deputy Secretary continued.

  “Preston told me he had attempted to call Agent Martin yesterday morning for a progress report when an unknown man answered the agent’s phone. Now, I could attempt to explain the nature of that conversation, but I think it would be much better if you just listened to it yourself.”

  “It was recorded?” Alex asked, his apprehension growing.

  The Deputy Secretary nodded. “Preston at least had the presence of mind to have his team record the call,” she replied dryly as she opened the audio file on her laptop. “We’ve determined that the recording began approximately 30 seconds into the call. Other than that, there’s nothing I can tell you that you won’t hear for yourself.” She punched a key and started the audio file.

  Alex listened in stunned silence to Preston’s recorded call with the unknown man and U.S. Army Sergeant Kearney. How was this possible? he wondered. How could the same terrorist target his SOG agents supposedly neutralized in Amsterdam still be alive? His men were the best trained team in the world. They’d made visual contact of him going into the hotel. They’d swept the entire building. For god’s sake, they’d sifted through what was left of him in his hotel room!

  When it was over, McCarthy closed the audio file and stared at him expectantly. “Are you starting to get a sense of the scale of this problem, Agent?”

  Alex nodded silently.

  “Our own analysis of the audio file confirms that Sergeant Kearney is indeed who he says he is,” McCarthy continued. “Vocal analysis also leads us to believe that he was under the influence of some form of truth-inducing agent, most likely given to him by this other man who, as of now, still remains a mystery. Of course, diplomatically speaking, he’s a non-entity. As far as the Chinese are concerned, this mystery man doesn’t exist. All evidence in the killings of both men points directly to Sergeant Kearney. Unfortunately, whatever that poor bastard was given must have done the trick, because according to the interrogation report he doesn’t remember a goddamn thing.” She shrugged in exasperation.

  “This situation is truly incredible, Deputy Secretary,” Alex replied, quickly composing himself. “Unfortunately, I don’t see how this matter pertains to me.”

  The Deputy Secretary stared at him for a long moment. “I had a feeling you might say that, Agent Murstead,” she replied with a disappointed tone. “There was another piece of evidence discovered in the apartment that Chinese authorities found rather peculiar. It may in fact be the only reason why they’ve chosen to share this information with us at all.” She slowly removed a photo from the file before closing it and returning it to a drawer in her desk.

  “What evidence is that?” Alex asked, an edge of apprehension in his voice.

  “A small box was found in the lap of Zhu’s body,” the Deputy Director answered as she studied the photo. “We assume it was placed there by the unknown man who spoke to Preston. Of course, we can’t verify that.” The Deputy Secretary slid the photo across her desk. “This is what was found when they opened it.”

  Alex could feel the Deputy Secretary’s eyes on him as he picked up the photo. The image showed a small cardboard box with the top removed. Inside was a neatly pressed and folded blue t-shirt, a familiar logo printed across the front. Lying on top of the shirt was a small piece of notepaper with a precisely written message clearly visible in the photo.

  For Agent Alex Murstead –

  Sorry we missed each other in Amsterdam.

  The Deputy Secretary lifted her small frame from the chair and walked slowly over to the window. In the distance, the Lincoln Memorial stood somberly against the lifeless winter landscape of the National Mall. She spoke quietly as she stared out at the view. “Now, before you start piecing together your bullshit defense, let me just assure you that I have no interest in hearing your side of the story. At least not now.” She turned and looked at him coldly. “There’s one more wrinkle in this situation you may or may not be aware of. Jack Preston is convinced that the supposed NSA source who initiated Sergeant Kearney’s mission was none other than Homeland Security’s own Intelligence Director.”

  Alex looked at her in a daze of disbelief. “You mean Richard Connolly?”

  The Deputy Secretary nodded. “Preston said he’d kept Connolly apprised of this situation from the beginning and that he was the only other person who’d been told the terrorist’s location in Dongying. Given Connolly’s awareness and access to NSA resources, it doesn’t seem to be much of a stretch to draw the same conclusion.”

  Alex placed the photo back on the Deputy Secretary’s desk and rubbed his hands dismissively. “Deputy Secretary, I’m afraid I have absolutely no explanation for that photo.

  “Don’t insult my intelligence.” McCarthy said flatly. “You’re as involved in this mess as the rest of them. Even if Director Preston hadn’t told me about the CIA’s recent investigation of these same terrorists, it wouldn’t have been difficult to connect the dots. We’ll discuss your activities in Amsterdam at another time. Right now I have enough to worry about. I don’t have time to turn this situation into some kind of inter-agency witch hunt.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  McCarthy walked over and pointed at Alex menacingly.

  “So you’re going to do it for me.”

  Alex looked up at the Deputy Director in confusion.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Make no mistake, agent – the fallout from this crisis is going to be severe. Careers will be destroyed. Lives will be ruined. But I will tell you right now that mine won’t be among them. I’ve spent far too long in the political trenches to let some power play between agencies pull me out of this office… which means we’ve finally come to the reason I’ve called you here.”

  The Deputy Secretary returned to her seat.
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br />   “Whatever you thought you’d accomplished with these miraculously elusive terrorists obviously failed. So as I see it, Agent Murstead, you have two choices. Either immediately reopen your investigation and make sure it is properly concluded this time, or end up on the sacrificial altar along with Preston and whoever else is responsible for this catastrophe.”

  Alex considered the Deputy Secretary’s humorless expression for a moment before responding. “You make a persuasive argument, Deputy Secretary,” he replied flatly. “May I get a copy of the Dongying file and Preston’s phone conversation immediately?”

  “Yes you may,” McCarthy replied genially. “Susan will have both for you on your way out.”

  “Then I’ll get started immediately.”

  “Excellent. I believe you’ve made the right decision, Alex.”

  “I’m sure I have, ma’am.”

  “I’ll expect regular updates on your actions, starting with your first one.”

  “And just what would you expect that to be, Deputy Secretary?”

  McCarthy gave him a hint of a smile. “Richard Connolly has a congressional hearing in less than an hour. I suggest you reschedule that meeting for him.”

  53.

  Jeri awoke with a start. Her heart was racing, her breath coming in quick gasps, as if she’d just been running a sprint. The remnants of her dream were already beginning to fade.

  She had felt him standing there, his face hovering over hers, his dark eyes examining her in the dim light. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, but he gave no indication of noticing. His eyes were focused on something else, something deeper, as if he were watching the very thoughts in her head. She reached out, her long fingers moving slowly towards him. He continued watching her until she’d nearly touched him,

  then smiled and stepped away.

  Jeri sat up and looked out the window. A clear, orange-tinted sky hinted at the coming dawn. The long boughs of nearby ponderosa pines hung low under the weight of a fresh layer of glistening snow. She quietly admired the beauty of it all before finally pulling back the sheets to get out of bed. As she did, an unseen object lying at the foot of the bed fell loudly to the floor. She hopped out and walked over to the object, its cover staring plainly up at her.

  Predictions in the New Business Ecology

  Jeri picked up her father’s book and held it curiously. She was certain she’d left it on the coffee table in the living room the night before. She shrugged irritably at her own forgetfulness and laid it on the nightstand, then headed off to shower and dress.

  The rising sun painted the early December sky a pale blue, illuminating the white trunks of aspen standing stoically outside her patio window. For the first time in ages Jeri sipped her coffee and quietly watched the beautiful procession of morning. She also tried to ignore the growing tug of nervous excitement in her stomach.

  It was her last day at Joe’s Last Stand Saloon.

  The thought brought a smile to her face. She knew it was time to move on. In fact, it was well overdue. The full weight of that truth had struck Jeri the instant she’d found her father’s buried case. It was at that moment, as she’d held his notebooks and read his letter that she realized the truth. She’d been holding onto her father’s ghost for the past year, fighting a feeling of guilt for not being enough, not giving enough, not saying enough to the man who had shaped her world.

  The irony that her own sense of guilt had been preventing the very thing her father wanted most for her – a life spent pursuing her passions – wasn’t lost on Jeri. She’d simply never stopped to consider it before now.

  She glanced down at the coffee table. The plane ticket to India she’d impulsively bought the previous day stared back at her, bringing with it a fresh wave of excitement. In two days she’d be arriving in Mumbai to begin exploring a corner of the world she’d always wanted to see. An image of busy streets and exotic colors suddenly filled her mind. It would be the first time she had traveled since her father’s death.

  The ring of her cell phone abruptly ended Jeri’s daydream. She grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, then looked at the caller ID and smiled.

  “So, today’s the day, huh?” Allie asked excitedly.

  “Today’s the day,” Jeri replied. “The official end of my bartending career. I assume you’ll be stopping by. After all, it’s your last chance to get free drinks.”

  Allie laughed. “Girl, I have enough guys knocking on the door to keep me in free drinks for the next ten years. But yes, I’ll plan on stopping by after work, okay?”

  “I’ll have a glass of wine ready for you.”

  “Make it two. Are you packed yet?”

  Jeri looked over at the open suitcase laying empty on her living room floor. “Almost.”

  “Good. Of course, I still don’t understand why, of all the places in the world you could’ve picked to disappear, you chose India.” Allie moaned.

  “Can you think of a better place?”

  “A better place? Sweetie, anywhere is a better place. How about Italy, or the Bahamas, or a nice little ride on a cruise ship?”

  “Those aren’t places, Allie… they’re tourist traps.”

  “Well, just remember… tourist traps don’t have rats. Or slums.”

  Jeri smiled into the phone. “Exactly. That’s why I’m going to India.”

  Allie sighed resignedly. “Well, just make sure you take plenty of antibiotics.

  God knows what you might pick up over there.”

  “Consider them packed,” Jeri replied. “Anything else?”

  “No. Just that I love you, and that I’m completely pissed that my best friend is leaving me for a third-world country.”

  “You could come too.”

  “No, I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m not like you. I’m not fearless.”

  “Allie, I’m anything but fearless.”

  Allie sighed into the phone. “Look, I know you better than anyone, and all I can say is that whatever your father buried in that box must have worked, because you’re back… back to being the Jeri I knew before he died. And the Jeri I knew then was definitely fearless. So stop arguing with me and take it as a goddamn compliment.”

  Jeri laughed out loud. “Okay, I’m fearless. But I hate the idea of leaving my best friend just as much as you do. So stop by tonight and we’ll toast a proper send off, okay?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Allie replied softly. “Bye sweetie.”

  Jeri sat the phone down and stared out the window as the first golden rays of sunlight slipped over the hillside. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself, a single word floating through her mind.

  Fearless.

  ∞

  HSI Director Richard Connolly took his seat beneath the high vaulted ceiling of hearing room 311 and quietly busied himself with organizing his notes. Around him, the level of noise and activity within the historic Cannon House hearing room seemed to be rising in anticipation of the next proceeding. A young, pimple-blemished page walked over and placed a fresh bottle of water on the table next to him as another young man adjusted his microphone. Connolly checked his watch.

  The hearing would begin in three minutes.

  The hearing on Homeland Intelligence Spending and Risk Assessment wasn’t an official budgetary hearing, but Connolly knew it might as well be. It would be in this hearing that he would once again have the stage to outline the critical work his Intelligence team was conducting against the ever-growing threats of foreign and domestic terror. Within minutes he’d have the committee’s Chairman and eighteen congressional members riveted. First, he’d lead off with a brief summation of the complex operational and tactical intelligence-gathering procedures being used. He’d then conclude with a list of fear-inducing threats that had been detected and catastrophic disasters averted thanks to the HSI’s diligent efforts. After that, the questions that followed would be where the Department’s true budgetary needs would be
defined and, under Connolly’s masterful guidance, quickly sold. For Connolly, the only discomfort he’d have to endure for the next ninety minutes would be the absence of a cigarette.

  The noise level in the room suddenly dropped as the chairman and members of the committee slowly shuffled into the room. The congressman from Connolly’s home state of Georgia gave him a friendly nod as he took his seat behind the rostrum. The room slowly grew quiet. Connolly adjusted his tie and took a quick sip of his water in preparation for the Chairman’s opening remarks.

  “Excuse me, Director Connolly?”

  Connolly looked up to see a broad-shouldered man in a suit standing next to him.

  “Yes.”

  The man opened his jacket and quickly flashed Connolly his CIA credentials. “Would you please come with me, sir?”

  “What’s this about?” Connolly asked quietly, feeling the eyes in the room now on him.

  The agent nodded towards the front of the room. “That gentleman there will be able to answer your questions, sir.”

  Connolly turned and saw a tall, muscular man in a dark suit standing before the Chairman. As he watched, the man looked up and gestured towards him.

  “I’ll need you to follow me, sir,” the agent standing next to him said firmly as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Connolly forced a casual smile and stood up from his chair. He nodded briefly to the members of the committee before turning and allowing the agent to escort him down the aisle of the hearing room towards the exit. As they walked, Connolly could hear the second agent, who was apparently in charge, following directly behind. The instant they exited the room he turned and confronted both men.

  “What in the hell is the meaning of this?” Connolly demanded angrily.