Shattered Lies

by Kathleen Brooks

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. You need to come with us.” Tate looked up at the unidentified agent. He didn’t offer an explanation and the officer was happy to hand her off.

  “No,” she said with as much power as she could. “I’m Tate Carlisle, the press secretary for the president, and I will not go with anyone I don’t know. Please call Humphrey Orville, the chief of staff, for me.”

  “You’re coming with me, ma’am,” he said through gritted teeth. The officer now looked curiously between them.

  “No!” Tate yelled. “I will not come with you, and I demand you contact Humphrey Orville, the chief of staff.”

  The man grabbed for her and the young officer, no more than twenty-two years old, pulled his gun as the EMTs froze in their progression toward her. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ll need to see some identification.”

  “I’ll have you fired for this. I’m CIA.” He flipped open his badge and the young man wilted.

  “I don’t give a shit who you are. I’m not going with you.” There was something wrong here. The man was only looking at her. He wasn’t allowing EMTs to see her, and with her broken leg and a bullet wound, he’d have to carry her screaming out of here.

  There was a commotion outside as cars scrambled back to clear a space in the street. Tate had never felt such relief as when she looked out and saw Crew Dixon, pilot of Marine One and member of their secret group, landing a military helicopter. Crew glanced around, his eyes locking on hers, and then to the man in front of her. Crew leapt from the helicopter, and the man lunged for her. Crew ran, Tate screamed, and the young officer fired.

  4

  Lizzy and Dalton were outside the embassy in Bucharest in the middle of the night when her phone rang. Lizzy looked down and saw it was Humphrey. In the span of one minute, everything changed.

  “We have to get home now,” Lizzy said, hanging up the phone.

  “What’s going on?” Dalton asked as he lowered his binoculars.

  “Tate and Birch were injured in a bombing. Birch wasn’t breathing when they took him away, and then a supposed CIA agent tried to grab Tate.”

  Dalton was already turning the car on. “Is she okay?”

  “Humphrey said Crew has her. That’s all I know. He’s ordered us back to DC via the military again. He’s afraid our covers have been blown. He’s assessing and will call with any updates. Everything is on complete lockdown.”

  The drive back to the airbase seemed to take forever instead of the few hours it really was. When they arrived, the sun was rising across the sleepy base. Dalton parked the borrowed car and stopped when they heard an alarm sound. Military personnel ran from the buildings in various stages of dress toward the water. With a questionable glances at each other, they followed the crowd.

  “What is it?” Lizzy asked the medical team as they ran by.

  “Bodies in the water!”

  Lizzy and Dalton followed the crowd and stopped at the shore. Men and women were coming out of the Black Sea dragging two life preservers that lifeguards used. Slung over the long red foam were what looked to be the bodies of an elderly man and a middle-aged woman.

  Dalton narrowed his eyes as his hand grabbed her arm. “Does that man look familiar?”

  “No . . . wait,” Lizzy felt her breath come quickly as she pulled up her phone and searched for a name. “It’s George Stanworth,” she gasped.

  * * *

  Valeria heard them coming. She felt the vibration of the water increase as they got closer. When she had refused to answer Manuel’s questions the other day, they’d tied her arms and submerged her up to her neck in a large barrel and then put the lid on over her. There were holes for air, but since no light ever shone through, she guessed she was in the basement.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been down there. Three days? Three hours? She didn’t know. What Valeria did know was that she was going mad. She was disoriented, exhausted, and only talking to herself had gotten her through it. But now was not the time to let one’s brain take the lead. It was time to let her instincts loose. It was time to make her move.

  The lid was pried off as light flooded the room with a single flick of a light switch. Valeria went limp as the man struggled to pull her fully soaked from the water. Good. She didn’t want to use any energy, and she wanted them to use plenty of it.

  “Ayuadame!” The guard yelled to the other to come help. It took them both to carry her limp body from the barrel. They were breathing heavily by the time they dumped her in the chair at the end of the long kitchen table.

  Valeria’s gun was gone, but the knife strapped to her calf was still there under her waterlogged jeans. Valeria let her head fall back as she stared at the aged bronzed metallic ceiling fan. She heard Manuel slam his hands on the table and call her name. Valeria didn’t move.

  “Get the bitch to sit up!” Manuel ordered. The men who had dragged her from the basement let out a sigh, but then shoved her up in her chair.

  Seven men: two behind her with their hands on each of her shoulders, two on each side of the table, and Manuel at the head of the table sitting across from her.

  Valeria groaned and let her head loll to the side. “Food,” she barely whispered.

  Manuel chuckled. “I see you’re not asking for water. Get her some bread.”

  A hunk of dried bread was thrown on the table in front of her. Valeria clumsily picked it up using only her teeth and dropped it to the floor. With a wail of frustration she ordered the men to pick it up. “Can you either untie me or make them feed it to me?”

  Valeria looked at the bread, defeated, as Manuel stared at her. All was quiet for many seconds before Valeria’s hands were grabbed and the rope was cut. She devoured the bread, chewing loudly with her mouth open. Not only was she actually starving, but she had to put Manuel at ease.

  “You need to start talking if you don’t want to go back into the barrel,” Manuel threatened.

  Valeria just nodded her agreement and took a huge bite of the bread. Clumsily she dropped a piece and bent to get it. It was now or never. Manuel would never let her live. Instead, he’d gleefully torture her to death.

  Valeria pushed up her pant leg, grabbed her knife, and shoved herself back in her chair so hard that it tipped over. With two quick motions she sliced the femoral arteries on both guards. She rolled backward, heels over head, and when she stood, she had one of the guard’s guns in her hand.

  “Kill her,” Manuel said with a flick of his wrist. Men flanked him, and Valeria jumped.

  Her feet landed hard on the table as bullets flew. It took two running steps to reach the middle of the table. Valeria leapt up as she fired on the soldiers below. Her hand closed around the large metal cage housing the lights for the ceiling fan as she swung through the air. Using her left hand, she fired at the men, dropping two more. The other two had moved to form a shield around Manuel.

  Valeria pulled her legs up and let go of the fan. She sailed through the air, up and over Manuel and his guards. The landing hurt. She let her knees go soft as she hit the floor and rolled before springing up. Manuel was shouting for his guards as Valeria ran for all she was worth. She wanted to kill Manuel, but the information on the drive, hopefully still dry, in her belt buckle was worth more than her desire for vengeance.

  Valeria could hear the alarm sound in the surrounding buildings as she ran through the compound, heading to the private garage. Men would be pouring out in seconds, armed to the teeth. She looked up as the door leading to the garage opened, and she fired. The man fell to the ground, and Valeria scooped up his AR type .223 rifle.

  The garage was large, not the normal garage you found in neighborhood houses. No, Manuel’s was a showcase to display his wealth. It would be tempting to go for the Ferrari, but it was the bulletproof Mercedes-Maybach SUV she headed for. It was luxury personified, but it also had big tires and a huge metal bar across the front that would be perfect for plowing people down.

  Valeria didn’t wait for the
garage door to open. She slammed the door to the SUV closed, pushed the start button, and floored it. The giant tires spun as shots pinged off the driver side window. The tires grabbed the slick floor, and the SUV shot through the garage door, ripping the entire thing from the rails and flattening numerous soldiers who had been closing in on her.

  Valeria bounced so hard she hit her head, but she kept her hands on the wheel as the $500,000 SUV took bullets from all around her. There were three gates between her and freedom. The first one would be the toughest. Men had formed a wall. SUVs were blocking the exit.

  Valeria spun the car, sending dust flying and the men began to chase her. Just as she hoped, one of the SUVs from the barricade moved to follow her. She slammed on the brakes and put the car in reverse before flooring it. Val put her arm over the passenger seat and looked out the back as she drove backward past the SUV following her and right through the first solid wood gate. She hit it hard. The airbags deployed, but Valeria was ready for the hit. Driving backward, she could still see where she was going.

  The SUV bounced and Valeria did all she could do to keep her foot on the gas as she careened down the small mountaintop toward the second gate. The second fence was made of wood, not concrete blocks like the one nearest the house, which gave her more options.

  The airbag began to deflate, but Valeria could see the gate quickly approaching. She didn’t have time to turn around. Instead she turned the wheel sharply, veering off the dirt drive and onto the desert grass-spotted ground. The guards blocking the gate scrambled to fire off shots, but Valeria drove the back of the SUV right through the wooden privacy fence.

  Valeria slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, finally turning the SUV around before driving down the hill toward the final gate and freedom. Well, as free as she could get in a town and country owned by Manuel Hernandez. Looking in her mirror, she saw clouds of dust from SUVs and trucks coming after her. It wouldn’t be easy, but she had to get away.

  With her face set in determination, Valeria shot through the final fence and squealed out onto the main road. She rammed into a taxi, sending it spinning, and took off in the heavy traffic leading through the resort town.

  * * *

  Dalton looked down at his phone. “I have a call coming in from an unknown number.”

  Lizzy and Dalton hurried away from the crowd and ducked behind a building. Dalton answered on speakerphone but didn’t say a word.

  “Dalton?”

  “Val?” Lizzy asked in surprise.

  “I need help,” Valeria whispered.

  “Where are you?” Dalton asked, taking over as Lizzy pulled out her phone and began to record the conversation.

  “I’m in Sinaloa, Mexico. I’m in Mazatlán. I messed up. I need an extraction.”

  “What are the coordinates?” Dalton asked as Lizzy pulled up a map. Valeria read off the GPS coordinates.

  “Val, listen to me,” Dalton said slowly. “We are in Romania. We can’t get to you quickly. Can you get a boat?”

  “Yes. I’m at the shore now. I know I’m being followed. I’m hiding in a dumpster outside of the docks.”

  “They’ll expect you to head toward the US border or the embassy. Get a boat and go west to Cabo San Lucas. If you can’t make it there, then go to Parque Nacional Cabo Pulmo, it’s a park in Baja. I’m sending help. Call me when you’re safe on the boat.”

  “I can’t. I stole this phone from someone at Manuel’s resort. I’m sure it’ll be tracked or disconnected as soon as it’s reported missing.”

  Dalton swore, and Lizzy held her breath. Manuel must be Manuel Hernandez, and he was not someone you wanted to have after you.

  “Get a boat that can hold at least eighteen gallons of gas and head for Cabo. Do you have something to write down directions with?”

  “Yes,” Valeria whispered.

  “This is your ultimate goal for extraction. If you are not at that location, your extraction will be Point B, the park.” Dalton read off the coordinates. “Hang on. Help is on the way.”

  “Who?” Val asked nervously.

  “You won’t be able to miss him. His name is Grant Macay. Stay safe.”

  The line went dead and Lizzy finally breathed as she blinked back tears. “It’s all falling apart.”

  “We don’t have time to think like this.” Dalton dialed and waited as the line connected. “Think of it this way. We have them on the ropes, and they’re so afraid they’re being brazen, and we know what that means.”

  Lizzy nodded. “They’ll mess up. Our friends—”

  “I know. And we’re helping them, even from halfway across the world. I’m calling Grant. You call Alex.”

  “Aye,” a deep voice slightly accented with his Scots ancestry answered.

  “Grant, Dalton.”

  “What’s up?” Grant Macay, the pilot from Dalton’s pararescue team answered.

  “Where are you?”

  “Edwards. Just got stationed here in sunny California two days ago for the next six months.”

  “We need your help.”

  “We who?”

  “The President of the United States.” Lizzy nodded to Dalton as she hung up with Alex. “Orders are coming in a minute to send you to Mexico for a classified drill. There’s a woman who needs an extraction, possibly hot. She’ll be at one of the following coordinates.”

  “Cabo is always beautiful to visit, gunfire or not. I’ll find the wee lassie,” Grant assured.

  “I wouldn’t call her that,” Lizzy muttered.

  “Macay! You’ve got orders!” was overheard from the background.

  Lizzy’s eyebrows rose. Alex worked fast.

  “Someday you’ll have to tell me what’s going on. I’ll get this lass back to you or die trying.”

  “These things I do,” Dalton said seriously.

  “That others may live.” Grant finished the PJ motto before hanging up.

  Lizzy reached her hand out and Dalton clasped it as the medical personnel walked by with the bodies from the sea. “Alex doesn’t have an update yet. He can’t get into the hospital. All phones are forbidden so Humphrey can’t call to let him know.”

  Dalton nodded. “It’ll be in lockdown. The entire city will be. We better go.”

  “Wait,” Lizzy said, stopping him. “Birch sent the bodies to Stanworth, but Stanworth is here and ends up dead shortly after the bodies would have been found. Plus, Sandra flew into Bucharest but now can’t be found.”

  “And Bucharest is only a couple hours from the Black Sea.”

  “It was a meeting of Mollia Domini!” Lizzy smacked his arm as it fell into place. “I hate leaving Tate and Birch but, Dalton, we’re close. We could take out the entire organization!”

  “We need to find out how long the bodies were in the water and see where they came from,” Dalton said, grabbing her hand and rushing after the medics.

  5

  “Let me go,” Tate ground out between her teeth. She’d had a semi-rigid splint put on her leg and a bandage over her shoulder and was now being held hostage in her secured room by the meanest nurse she’d ever met until her leg surgery at the end of the day. It had been six hours, and she hadn’t been allowed to leave the room yet.

  “You are recovering and getting ready for surgery tonight. You cannot get out of that bed.”

  “The shoulder is nothing. I am going to see the president, or so help me, I will get out of this bed and strangle you. It’s been hours, and no one will tell me anything.”

  The nurse looked at her as if she were a child. “First, you’re one of the nicer patients I’ve dealt with. Second, I don’t have information on the status of the president. It’s classified.”

  “Is he alive?” Tate asked softly, her voice fading as it was replaced with heart-stopping fear.

  The nurse’s look turned to pity. “I’m sorry. No one knows. The entire wing is closed off, and no information is coming out of it.” The nurse gave her a sad look and then left the private room, closing the
door after her.

  Tate grabbed a pillow and covered her face. She let the tears come. Great big sobs as she cried for those who had died last night at the restaurant, all because of her. She’d taken out Mollia Domini’s propaganda machine, embarrassing them, and innocents had died because of it. It was now clear their enemies were prepared to destroy anything they could not control.

  Other federal agents had arrested the young officer who had shot the supposed CIA agent. When the agent had reached for her with his gun drawn, the officer shot. But she’d make sure he’d get out of jail by the end of the day. Crew had swooped in, picked Tate up, and had her inside the helicopter while everyone was distracted by the shooting. Tate was sure the agent was either a Mollia Domini plant in the CIA, or he wasn’t an agent at all. Either way, the young officer had saved her, and she’d make sure he was hailed a hero.

  Crew had followed the medical evacuation helicopter to Walter Reed Hospital. The military base was in complete lockdown as well as the hospital. Tate had heard the people talking as she was rushed from the helicopter pad and into a secure room. Crew had not been admitted. Instead, he was detained and was being held somewhere on the base.

  “Get out of my way!”

  Tate pulled the pillow from her face at the raised voice in the hall. She heard her guardian nurse calling for MPs as her door was thrown open. Standing in all of his five-foot-five-inch shining-head glory was Humphrey. He shoved the wire-rimmed glasses up his nose aggressively as he sent her a wink.

  MPs ran up the hall, but Humphrey spun on them. “You better back off, or I’ll have you dishonorably discharged. Do you know who I am? I’m the fucking chief of staff, and you will listen to me. I am taking this woman, on the direct orders of President Stratton, to his bedside. Anyone who impedes me will face court martial under UCMJ Article 92.”

  Tate sat up and watched in awe as the men stepped back. “Sorry, sir.”

  “Nurse, help me get Miss Carlisle into a wheelchair,” Humphrey ordered, his voice strong and sure as he directed the MPs to help the nurse.