by Steven James
“Who sent you?” It was Wray’s voice, but with the echo Fred couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“I’m telling you—”
“Don’t move. I have a crossbow aimed at your back.”
Fred felt a cold clamp of fear.
“Get rid of the gun,” Wray called.
No, no, no, don’t.
“Listen to me,” Fred replied hastily. “I don’t want to hurt you, but—”
A crossbow bolt whizzed past him and embedded into a wooden crate about ten feet in front of him.
“Get rid of the gun.”
Fred’s heart was hammering.
You can’t let those photos go public. You’ll lose your job, you might go to jail.
But the fear of getting a crossbow bolt in the back overrode the fear of what might or might not happen in the future.
You were never going to shoot him. Not really. This isn’t you. You’re not a killer.
He threw the gun away, and it clattered against the concrete and slid fifteen feet away.
“Who sent you?” Wray’s voice sounded closer, and Fred could only imagine that he’d stepped out of hiding to get a better shot.
Fred really didn’t know what to say, but before he could make up something threatening or intimidating, the truth slipped out. “I don’t know. He has photos. Damaging ones. Of me. He said if I didn’t recover the drive he would release them.”
There, he’d laid it out. Now he would have to face the consequences, but at least he wouldn’t be caught up in doing anything violent, anything that went against his deepest convictions.
He might end up in jail, but at least he wouldn’t end up a killer.
“You drive a 2012 white Chevy Silverado.” Wray’s voice sounded like it was coming from maybe ten feet behind him.
“Yes.”
“You’re a Cammo dude.”
Fred hesitated. “Yes.”
“Turn around.”
Fred did.
Wray was only a few steps away and had the crossbow aimed directly at his chest. What he said completely took Fred by surprise: “I won’t press charges for kidnapping if you help us.”
“Help you do what?”
“Find out what we need to from Area 51.”
The pictures will get released!
But then again, if Wray knew what the files contained and if he helped him with this deal with Area 51, maybe something would lead back to the guy who was blackmailing him.
There was no way to tell, but what was worse, having the photos released or being charged with armed kidnapping?
“Alright. What do you need to know?”
Access Codes
The police arrest Tomás and take him away.
The officers interview me, but Charlene and two other people who have stepped out of their motel rooms as witnesses confirm my account of what happened—that Tomás came at me with the knives, and I was forced to defend myself. Even the officer who cuffed me agrees that things played out that way.
While he doesn’t sound too convinced that Emilio was murdered, he promises that he’ll follow up on it.
Although I suspect that I might be in deep trouble, thankfully the officers don’t hassle me much. However, they do tell me that they want me to come with them to the station.
When I ask if we could take care of it in the morning, they inform me in no uncertain terms that it will be best to take care of it tonight.
“We’ll give you a ride back home when we’re done.” The officer is filling out paperwork already, even as she’s speaking with me.
“I can come along, take you home?” Charlene offers, but I encourage her to head back to the house and fill Fionna in on what’s been going on.
“Just to the Arête parking garage will be fine,” I tell the officer. “My car is still there.”
After explaining to Charlene that I’ll see her back at home, I ride with the police to the Las Vegas Police Department.
It doesn’t take long to answer the officers’ questions, and in the end they have me sign some forms and I give my official statement. Thankfully, it doesn’t look like they’re going to take me to task any more about the fight.
I overhear them talking about their arrival at the motel. Apparently, after they caught Tomás they figured out that the phone call to his room had come from the front desk, and when they questioned the guy working there, he gave up that Agcaoili had paid him fifty dollars to call in case any cops showed up at the motel.
So, Solomon had kept his word and had refrained from warning Agcaoili. Regardless of what criminal activities he might be involved in, telling the truth really did seem to matter to him.
After we leave the interrogation room and they return my phone to me, I notice a text from Xavier that I should call him ASAP.
There’s also a text from Fionna that she finished decoding the USB drive: “You’re not going to believe what I found.”
As they shuttle me to my car they finally let me make some calls to my friends, and I reach Xavier, who’s made it home and is with Fionna and Charlene.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“It’d be better if we explained it all in person.”
“Don’t leave me hanging here, Xav.”
“It’s Area 51. I think we can get inside.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I’ll tell you everything when you get here.”
“Fionna texted me that she found out something.”
“I’ll let her explain that in person. How long till you arrive?”
“Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”
“We’ll explain it all then.”
On the way home I process everything.
The police officer witnessed Tomás attack me with the knives, so I figure they’ll charge him with aggravated assault, at least, if not attempted murder. Even though Ambassador Whitehead and the FBI, and even the officers from this morning after the break-in at Emilio’s, promised to look into things, none of them was very convincing.
Even if they don’t follow through like we’d been hoping they would, I imagine that at this point Tomás will be facing serious jail time. And at least now all the information about what happened in the Philippines would come out.
We also know something we didn’t know this afternoon.
Akinsanya is somehow a part of all this.
But how? With the connection to RixoTray, it does seem to make sense, but what does it have to do with Emilio? And how does Area 51 work into the equation?
All those things are intimately tied in with my friend’s death, and I can’t imagine that I’m going to feel any real closure on this until I get a few more answers.
Certainly that USB drive figured into everything as well. Whatever information it held might just untangle some of what was going on.
Last year Akinsanya, a skilled sniper, faked an accident that took the lives of several suicide bombers in order to help set up an assassination attempt. From all we know about him, he is a master of misdirection.
Right before he died, a contract killer had warned me that Akinsanya would find me. I had no way of telling if that was an idle threat, if Akinsanya was still interested in finding me or not, but now I can’t put those words out of my mind.
There’s a car I don’t recognize in my driveway.
Inside the dining room I find Fionna, Charlene, and Xavier waiting for me.
There’s also a man I don’t know sitting at the table drinking a Sprite. He’s wiry and scruffy, with dirty blond hair and anxious eyes. There’s sweat on his forehead even though it’s not unreasonably hot in here. I take a seat. “And you are?”
“This is my new friend, Fred Anders,” Xavier answers for him. “He’s a Cammo dude. And he’s on our side.”
Fred nods. His hand is shaking slightly as he takes a drink from his soda.
Apparently, Xavier has already shared the story of his night with Fionna and Charlene, but they patiently sit through
it again as he fills me in. Fred fidgets nervously the whole time.
The crossbow is from an effect Xavier designed where Charlene shoots it at me and I catch the bolt in my hand—well, at least it looks to the audience like I do.
“You shot a crossbow bolt at him? Seriously?”
“Not at him,” Xavier clarifies. “Near him.”
Fred speaks for the first time. “Sure seemed like it was at me to me.”
“I could have shot it closer. I have pretty good aim.”
“Everyone does from ten feet,” he grumbles.
Xavier reaches down and picks up the crossbow.
“Whoa,” I say. “You brought it with you?”
“You never know when you might need a crossbow on hand.”
“Put that thing down,” Fionna exhorts him with a motherly scold. “Before someone gets hurt. Right now you’re treading on thin water.”
He obeys.
Fred adds some details to Xavier’s account, telling us about the blackmailer. He asks pointedly if we can help find out who the person is.
I can’t help but suspect that Akinsanya might very well be behind all this. “What is he threatening to release?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Look, if we’re going to help you, we need to know what this is all about. We can’t get tangled up in something that’s going to put anyone else in danger.”
“Or us in jail,” Fionna interjects.
At last Fred gives in. “Photos.”
“Of what?” I ask.
“Of . . .” I can tell this is really hard for him. “A hotel room. What happened there.”
“And that was?”
“There were drugs.”
He pauses. I sense he’s not done. “And?”
“And a photo of a driver’s license.”
“Go on.”
“Of a girl.”
I can guess where this is going. “Underage?”
He shakes his head in exasperation. “I swear I don’t even remember her coming back to the room with me. I met a woman at the bar, yes. We talked, but I’m telling you, I went back to my room alone. And she looked old enough to be there. She was drinking, for goodness’ sake.”
“And when you woke up the next day?”
“Everything was there in the room. Cocaine, meth, a pair of nylons, and some panties. I got rid of everything, but then this morning printouts of the photos were waiting for me in my mailbox.” He stares at us one at a time, gauging how much we’re buying his story. “You have to believe me.”
“Actually,” Fionna says, “no we don’t.”
“All a setup?” It’s Xavier.
“Well, all I know,” answers Fred, “is that those photos can’t get released. I’d lose my job for sure, maybe even go to prison if the girl comes forward to testify.”
“Your word against hers,” I note.
“But she’s got the pictures on her side.”
“True.” I sort things through. “When did all this happen?”
“I was at the hotel last night.”
That was fast. This blackmailer didn’t mess around.
“The day after Emilio was killed,” Charlene says softly.
“Who’s Emilio?” he asks.
There isn’t time to get into all that right now, so I wave off his question. “Later. For now, it sure looks like you were set up, and the timing fits in with the rest of what’s going on. So, for now I’ll tell you what—we’ll do what we can to keep those photos private, and by the way all of this is interconnected, I’d say there’s at least a chance we can help in that regard.” I think again of Solomon, that he might have information about this blackmailer, but I don’t want to visit him again. I have the sense that it would be pushing our luck.
Solomon?
Akinsanya?
Another criminal who’s even more connected?
My mind is buzzing with way too many questions that have way too few answers.
We turn our attention to Fionna.
Again, this seems like a review for everyone else, but they bear with her as she says to me, “While you were chasing Agcaoili and Xavier was shooting crossbow bolts near Fred—”
“At Fred,” interjects Fred.
“Near,” Xavier replies.
“At.”
“Enough, boys,” Fionna chides them. “Anyway, while you two were at the warehouse, I figured out what’s on the USB drive: work schedules, access codes, and shift change information for a private security firm. The one that takes care of the security at—”
“Groom Lake,” Xavier interrupts excitedly. He nods toward our guest. “Fred’s already confirmed it. The info is legit.”
They seem to have granted the guy who abducted Xavier at gunpoint an awful lot of trust already.
“Hang on.” Something isn’t quite clicking here. “Fred, if you can confirm the codes and so on, why would this blackmailer need the drive? Why couldn’t he just get those details from you?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t have access to all that information. Maybe I should have said it all looks legit—but you’d actually have to enter the security codes to be sure. There’s lots of security around the perimeter, but access to the buildings is usually gained by swiping an ID card or entering a passcode. I haven’t been in too many of them, but the passwords on that drive are the right format.”
Xav goes on, “And you know what all this means?”
“What’s that?”
“It means we can get on the property.”
“Why would we want to do that?”
“To find out what the Holy Grail is that everyone is after. To untangle everything. Especially in Building A-13.”
“A-13?”
“It’s on the drive,” Fionna explains. “It seems like that’s where the main program, or research, or whatever, is being housed.”
I glance toward Charlene, anticipating that she’ll object to anything along the lines of traveling to Groom Lake and rescue me from having to argue with Xavier, but she doesn’t. “I’ve had some time to think about this,” she says. “I’m warming up to the idea. I think I need to sleep on it, though.” Then she abruptly switches topics and explains that about half an hour ago she got a call from the FBI agent she met with this morning.
It seems that suddenly Agent Ratchford was very interested in what we had to say about Tomás Agcaoili and this connection with Akinsanya, the man the Bureau has been tracking for the last four months. “He wants to meet with me tomorrow morning,” she explains. “Apparently, he’s going to talk with Agcaoili first in jail. We’re meeting at eleven.”
But that still leaves us with the question of what to do with our new friend Fred.
Despite the trust Xavier has put in him, I’m not comfortable with him staying in the house, but I’m also not sure I want him leaving. By kidnapping Xavier at gunpoint, he’s already proven himself to be dangerous.
“Fionna, did you download everything from the drive?”
“Yes.”
“Can you make the encryption on it even tougher to get through?”
“Sure. I suppose.”
“It took you an entire day to get through—and that was with Lonnie helping you. How many people could get through those files faster than you did?”
She ponders that. “I can only think of half a dozen people I know. Some nation states could, and of course, if it’s someone who has access to the military encryption codes they were using, they could certainly get in a lot quicker.”
By itself, the drive might be enough to buy us enough time to explore this connection with Akinsanya and how Emilio ended up with the drive in the first place. People were willing to kill over this information, so there is obviously something huge at stake. And now that we’re entangled in it all, I’m not going to wait around for the FBI or the ambassador in the Philippines to finally look into things. Not if this poses any danger to my friends.
Which it does.
Also, by add
ing the firewalls, we can buy Fred some time before those photos are released to the media or posted online.
Whoever this blackmailer is, he put Fred up to kidnapping, and even to the point of threatening murder, in the hopes of acquiring this drive. Who’s to say that he’s going to stop at that? If he doesn’t get what he wants, he might just send someone else, very likely someone even more motivated than Fred was, to get the drive.
“Is it too late to call back this guy who was blackmailing you?” I ask him.
He shrugs uneasily. “I don’t know.”
“You say he was going to post the photos online?” Fionna says.
“Yeah.”
“Well, let me check to see if he has.”
“How?”
“I just need a head shot of you. I’ll do an image search. Trust me.”
She takes his picture and sets to work at her keyboard. After ten minutes she’s convinced that whoever the guy is who was blackmailing him hasn’t posted the photos.
“But are you sure?” Fred asks.
“No, of course not. I can’t be positive. But if he was going to post them to any public site, at least any of the most popular thousand or so, he hasn’t done it yet. And if his point was to expose you, wouldn’t he post them somewhere where people would easily see them?”
“I don’t know. I mean, it doesn’t make sense that he hasn’t. He was very vehement that I get that drive by the time he called. I can’t believe that he wouldn’t have posted them.”
“If he did, he didn’t put them anywhere very public.”
“Maybe he still wants something to hold over you, and he knows that as soon as he releases them he loses his bargaining chip,” I tell him.
“Maybe.”
“Whatever his reasons, let’s do what we can to move forward here. Call him. We’ll give you the drive. Deliver it to him. But there’s just one thing I’m going to ask in return.”
“What’s that?”
“Help us find out what’s in Building A-13.”
He looks like he’s about to say something, but holds back.
“Well?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Trusting Anders not to tell the blackmailer the truth is a risk. I don’t know how we can assure that he won’t do it, except that Xavier could go to the police and explain that Fred had kidnapped him at gunpoint.