Run! - Hold On! Season 3

by Peter Darley

  Curiosity prompted him to head outside. Making a left turn, his pace quickened until he came to the end of the building. He spotted the prisoner transport turning toward the rear of the complex and frowned. Why would the FBI bring a prisoner to CIA headquarters? And why were they taking such an unorthodox route? None of what he was seeing seemed to fit with official procedure. Who the hell is it?

  He briskly walked back into the building, pondering which entrance the van would have delivered the prisoner to. He instinctively knew something was wrong. Paranoia came over him as he took the elevator to the lower floors.

  He stepped out into the lower ground corridor. After walking toward the rear, he turned left, immediately stopping in his tracks. In the distance he could see a squad of FBI agents and Agent Cullen leading someone toward one the interview rooms. But who was it? The prisoner was obscured by the other personnel. And why had Brenham placed an underling like Cullen in charge?

  Kerwin turned back, determined not to be seen.

  He took the elevator to the upper floors and headed toward the offices of SDT, swiftly arriving at the door of Wilmot’s secretary, Deborah Beaumont. He knocked the door and waited for a moment.

  Deborah opened the door with a typically stern expression.“Agent Kerwin. What can I do for you?”

  Kerwin knew she didn’t like him, but he had to know if Wilmot was alone. “Is he in?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he in a meeting? I’d hate to interrupt anything.”

  “No.”

  “Thank you.” He moved on to the next door ten yards away and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Kerwin anxiously stepped inside.

  “What’s going on?” Wilmot said.

  “I don’t know. The FBI just delivered someone to the back entrance. Everything about it looked suspicious.”

  “Do you have any idea who it was?”

  “No. I tried, but the detainee was completely surrounded. And Cullen was the one leading the entourage.”

  Wilmot looked at him bemused. “Wentworth Cullen?”

  “Yeah.”

  Wilmot gestured to his desk chair. “Take a seat. Something is going on. I can feel it.”

  “Any word from Slamer?”

  “No, and I haven’t been able to reach him. I’m worried. All I was trying to do was make Operation: Nemesis official. Nobody would’ve known it was Treadwell’s brain child. But if they find out we were involved back then, every one of us will be finished.”

  “Do you think they’re onto us?”

  “It’s looking increasingly like they are. Garrett’s coming back tomorrow.”

  “How’s her face?”

  “Much better, apparently. It was a mild fracture. She told me the swelling had gone down considerably. She’s lucky. A blow from Drake could’ve taken her head off.”

  Kerwin leaned forward. “What do you suggest we do if Brenham is on to us?”

  “Nemesis has one-hundred-fifty-seven operatives still active within Langley. Their covers are protected, and most of them don’t even know the other is a part of it.”

  “Do you know who they are?”

  “I’m the only one who does. I helped Treadwell recruit them all, including you and Rhodes. If this goes down, we’re going to need them. It’s all of our asses on the line.”

  Kerwin shivered. “You’re thinking of activating Firestorm?”

  “Only as a last resort. Believe me, I don’t want it to come to that.” Wilmot’s gaze burned into Kerwin’s. “Do a little investigative work. Find out who they’re holding down there. It may have nothing to do with us.”

  “I’ll do whatever I can.”

  “Keep it low key. We don’t want any of them to be alerted to you.”

  “You got it.” Kerwin stood and made his way out of the office.

  ***

  Jed Crane hid beneath a baseball cap and sunglasses and strolled along the sidewalk approaching CIA headquarters. Wearing a worn-out jacket, jeans, t-shirt and sneakers, he felt a little uneasy about his imminent reunion with the director. His current financial status didn’t allow for extravagant attire.

  The glass-and-mortar half dome of the New Headquarters Building’s main entrance came into view. It was a place of hope to him—of national security and the protection of democracy. But it had been infected by persons who threatened everything for which it stood.

  He came closer and noticed the neatly-groomed gardens on either side of the entrance path. It seemed like a lifetime ago since he last saw it. It was such a simple, commonly-seen side of nature. Yet, it filled Jed with a feeling of warmth. The contrast it presented to the hell from which he’d returned was considerable. Could this be the day I get my life back?

  A black BMW slowed down beside him. Jed kept his eyes forward, and then moved them to the left underneath his sunglasses. Just the merest glance revealed it was Brenham at the wheel. With a sigh of relief, he edged toward the car.

  Brenham lowered the passenger’s side window. “Get in.”

  Jed opened the door and climbed in.

  “This has been an unusual experience for me,” Brenham said. “I’ve been circling around here for the past half hour looking out for you. I didn’t know if you’d be driving or not.”

  “I took the bus. I’m extremely low on funds.”

  “Not for much longer. I’ll see to it that you get three months back pay, up front.”

  “Thank you, sir. That’s very generous of you.” Jed’s thoughts went out to Juanita. There was no way he could’ve survived without her, and he made a decision to arrange for a percentage of his pay to be sent to her. It would help her to at least get out of that pitiful apartment.

  “That’s just the beginning,” Brenham said. “I have to say though, that get-up you’re wearing sure brings back memories of when I was your age.” He glanced over at Jed and winked in an obvious move to make him feel at ease.

  Jed chuckled. “Unfortunately, we beggars can’t be choosers. Do you have any word on Drake’s status?”

  “The FBI is flying him back as we speak. He should be in our hands later this afternoon.”

  They continued past the parking lot and headed around the side of the building.

  “I’m getting us in through the back,” Brenham said. “The fewer people who see you, the better. It’s been a nightmare, Jed. I can’t trust anyone. Every time I walk past one of our personnel, I wonder if they’re one of them.”

  “Believe me, I understand, sir.”

  They arrived at an entrance at the rear of the complex. Brenham and Jed exited the car and stepped through a doorway. Two security guards came forward.

  Brenham raised his hand. “It’s all right.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Jed kept his head low. “Where are we going?”

  “To one of the interview rooms on the lower level.”

  Jed followed the director toward an elevator. The area was deserted, indicating the location was not in active use. It was an ideal set-up for a secret interrogation, but the chilling nature of the situation struck Jed again. They were involved in an investigation to protect the intelligence community—from the intelligence community.

  They exited the elevator and walked along a seemingly-endless corridor, eventually arriving at an observation room door. Brenham took out a key card and opened the door.

  Jed followed him into a bare room with a two-way mirror. Jed came closer to it and looked down. A young agent was interviewing a prisoner approximately ten feet below them.

  “That young man down there is Agent Wentworth Cullen,” Brenham said. “I’m very proud of him. I want you to help him in an advisory capacity. He needs your guidance.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do whatever I can. Is this the job you were telling me about on the phone?”

  “No.”

  Jed turned to Brenham, confused. “So, what is?”

  “If all of this pans out, Wilmot will be in SeaTac Federal Detention Center by tomorrow. I
’ve pondered closing down SDT for some time. It was Treadwell’s idea, and it’s always left a bitter taste in my mouth.”

  “But?”

  “But . . . it’s unique. It gives its personnel the ability to perform investigations in a conventional manner. It allows us to perform tasks that, formerly, we had to call upon the FBI for. The only disadvantage is that once an agent has been assigned to SDT, their cover is blown and they can never return to the CIA, as you know.”

  “It was a career risk from the start. But I always knew I’d be able to find work in law enforcement if SDT came to an end, sir.”

  Brenham waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about that, Jed. Now you’re back, I see the future of SDT.”

  “The future of SDT? Surely you’re not thinking of keeping it. It’s been responsible for this whole mess.”

  “Yes it has, but I had to make a choice. I could petition for it to be closed down, or I could turn it into a force for good. It’d be like spitting on Treadwell’s grave.”

  “OK. So what is it you want me to do?”

  Brenham stepped forward with his hand outstretched and a glint of pride in his eyes. “SDT may operate independently, but it’s still under my jurisdiction. I want to propose you as the new director of SDT.”

  Speechless, Jed placed his shaking hand in Brenham’s. “Yes, sir. I accept.”

  “Good. After everything you’ve been through to bring these bastards down, I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

  They were interrupted by the entrance of Wentworth Cullen. Jed suddenly felt vulnerable and it clearly showed in his body language.

  “It’s all right, Jed. I told him we’d be in here.” Brenham turned to Cullen. “Any luck?”

  “Nothing, sir. Even the polygraph showed innocence. I suggest we go to enhanced interrogation.”

  Jed moved toward the young agent assertively. “No. You’re wasting time. That monster is as tough as Teflon and knows every polygraph trick in the book. If you try torture, you’ll be at it till Thanksgiving.”

  “So, what do you suggest?”

  “Sodium pentothal. No messing around.”

  “He’s right,” Brenham said. “We need answers and we need ‘em yesterday.”

  “Get what you need ready,” Jed said. “Then I have to talk to you, Agent Cullen. There are a number of other questions we need answers to in addition to the ones you already have.”

  “I’ll get right on it.” With that, Cullen left the room.

  One hour later, after a thorough debriefing by Jed, Cullen stepped into the interrogation room with a small, silver case. He placed it on the desk in front of the prisoner and opened it to reveal a clear vial of liquid and a hypodermic syringe. “I tried to be reasonable with you. I gave you every chance to cooperate. We know you’re a part of this conspiracy, and we know you have all the answers we need. Now we have to resort to this.”

  Cynthia Garrett’s left jaw had retained a yellow bruise from her encounter with Drake. She’d been arrested wearing no makeup, and the turn of events had begun to take their toll on her. Her complexion was pallid, her features were drawn, and her hair was unkempt as she sat shackled to the interview room chair.

  Nevertheless, resistance was still apparent in her eyes. She looked up at Cullen with pure hatred.

  Forty

  Inside the Gate

  Garrett’s eyes rolled under the effects of sodium pentothal, her venomous, resistant demeanor having disappeared five minutes previously.

  Cullen looked at his watch and decided she was in the zone for optimum resistance impairment. His brow dampened with the vital importance of his mission. There was no time for introductory dialogue. He knew he had to get straight to the point. “Agent Garrett, you are a senior member of a conspiracy. An unofficial cell within intelligence, correct?”

  With the whites of her eyes showing, she nodded.

  “That’s a positive response.” He ticked a box on an A4 pad. “Agent Garrett, what is the name of this faction?”

  Her head rolled deliriously and then dropped to her chest. “O-Oper-ation: N-Nem–e–sis.”

  “Operation: Nemesis?” He wrote the words down. “And who is the leader of Operation: Nemesis, Agent Garrett?”

  “An-drew W-Wilmot.”

  Cullen smiled and braced himself for the vital question. “How many members are there in your organization?”

  Her head rolled again as the words came out. “One hun-dred-fifty-sev-en.”

  “And do you know who these one-hundred-fifty-seven are?”

  She slowly shook her head.

  “Does Agent Wilmot know?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Does a list of these operatives exist?”

  Garrett groaned, but it was enough to indicate an affirmative response.

  “And where can this list be found?”

  “An-drews’s ap-artment.”

  Cullen leaned forward eagerly. “Where in Director Wilmot’s apartment can this list be found?”

  “F-flash drive . . . behind safe . . . behind painting . . . bedroom . . . in the wall.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Andy and I . . . are lovers.”

  In the observation room, Jed shot Brenham a satisfied smile. “There you have it, sir. We have to move.”

  Brenham took out his cell phone and made a call. “Jim? Jack Brenham. We have it. Fourteen-eighty-seven, Westmont. There’s a flash drive in a compartment in the wall behind a safe in the bedroom. The safe is behind a painting of some kind. The list of conspirators is on the flash drive.”

  “I’ll get a squad out there right away, Jack,” Jim Connor said. “Just hang in there.”

  Brenham exhaled. “Thank you, Jim. There’s no time to waste. You have to get that flash drive here so we can get it decoded before that son of a bitch leaves. One way or another, this all goes down today. We’re gonna need a heavy FBI presence ready to take them in.”

  “You got it.”

  Brenham smiled, ended the call, and turned back to the two-way mirror with Jed.

  Cullen continued with Garrett’s interrogation. “Do you know who killed Director Elias Wolfe?”

  Garrett’s head rolled again, as though she was trying to resist a most damning question.

  Cullen forced the issue. “Who killed Elias Wolfe?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you forge Director Wolfe’s suicide note?”

  “Yes.”

  Cullen glanced at the notes he’d taken from Agent Crane. “On April fourth, Agent Jedediah, also known as ‘Jed’ Crane, woke up in a motel in Stanton, Utah, to find an incendiary under his motel bed. Do you know who planted that incendiary?”

  “I did.”

  Cullen looked up at the two-way mirror with a smile.

  Through slurred speech as she surfed the wave between consciousness and delirium, Garrett revealed all. Cullen learned the origins of Operation: Nemesis and that it was a name known only to those involved. The CIA would find no file or document containing those two words. He prized out of her Wilmot’s intention of transforming Treadwell’s former home-grown terrorist cell into an official, elite task force, which would’ve included Brandon Drake. She revealed how Wilmot had faked Drake’s death and restored his original persona using Dr. DeSouza at the Mojave Desert facility. Drake’s escape, the slaughter of the guards, DeSouza’s death, the deployment of Kane Slamer, and the true nature of her own injuries, poured from her soporific throat.

  “Why did Director Wilmot want to do all this?” Cullen said.

  “Pow-er.”

  Brenham shook Jed’s hand and gripped his free arm in a gesture of jubilation. “We got, ‘em, Jed. Goddamn it, we got ‘em.”

  “Yes, sir, we did.”

  Brenham’s gleeful expression faded as he turned to the back wall and hammered his first against it. “Goddammit! First Treadwell created this rogue faction to attack US facilities for the sake of creating an illusory threat. Now, Wilmot is
trying to bring it into the mainstream intelligence community, like trying to hide it in plain sight.”

  “But we’re onto him, sir. He isn’t going to succeed.”

  “I know. That’s not what’s bugging me.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Brenham turned back to him with shame in his eyes. “He . . . probably would have succeeded. In my ignorance of its true origins and nature, it’s likely I would have proposed it to Congress. I’d have been unaware that I’d sanctioned an operation that had arisen from one of our greatest threats.”

  “But isn’t that what you’re doing with SDT?”

  “What?”

  “You said Treadwell instigated SDT, and now you want to spit on his grave by making it work for us.”

  “This isn’t the same, Jed. Wilmot would have been running this goddamn Operation: Nemesis under my watch, and all the time it would have been nothing more than a ruse for him to rise through the ranks of power. I could have inadvertently enabled the most dangerous threat to democracy this country has ever known. We’re supposed to be committed to protecting American soil from all threats, both foreign and domestic. The most dangerous enemy is the one inside the gate.”

  “But you’re not enabling it, sir. You’re doing everything you can to put an end to this. Let’s just stop them. OK?”

  The door opened again and Cullen stepped in. “I got as much out of her as I could.”

  “You did great, Cullen,” Brenham said. “We’ve got everything we need.”

  Jed shook his head. “Not quite.”

  “What?”

  “We need to know if Wilmot might have a contingency plan for when we take them in.”

  Cullen cringed. “I’m sorry. She passed out. I can’t get anything out of her at the moment.”

  “All right,” Brenham said. “When the FBI comes back with that flash drive, we go for Wilmot first and cut off the head before it can alert the tentacles.”

  “I agree,” Jed said.

  “For now, I have to get you out of here.”

  Jed shook his head. “No, I’ll stay here and see this through.”