by Mike Ryan
Blowback
Mike Ryan
Copyright © 2017 by Mike Ryan
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Also by Mike Ryan
1
Langley, Virginia—A meeting had been called to discuss the killing of one of their agents, Agent 17. The Director of National Intelligence, as well as CIA Director Roberts had grown very concerned at the agency’s lack of progress in finding 17’s killer in the past three months. Though it had been swept under the rug in the public’s eye, with 17’s cover alias intact, the agency’s hierarchy was starting to demand some answers. Attending the meeting were Director Roberts, his top aide, Deputy Director Tomlinson, as well as Executive Director Manning, who was in charge of the day to day activities of the agency. They were already in conference when Deputy Director Caldwell, who was in charge of operations and collecting foreign intelligence, came walking in. With him, was Sam Davenport, who was in charge of the Centurion Project. Roberts wasted little time in starting the questions as soon as the two visitors were seated.
“You two know why this meeting was called, right?” Roberts asked.
“Yes, sir. The death of Agent 17,” Davenport said.
“I’m getting almost daily queries from the DNI as to why we still have not apprehended somebody in his death. He’s killed in broad daylight, in a public airport, and three months later here we are sitting on our hands with no answers. What exactly is being done about this and why has it gotten to this point?”
Caldwell and Davenport looked at each other, unsure who should answer. Finally, Caldwell said. “As far as we can tell, there’s been no international chatter indicating someone was coming for him or any type of backlash for any work he’s done overseas.”
“Nothing at all?”
“We’ve checked all our sources in every country he’s been in, every assignment, but there’s nothing to suggest it’s an outside source.”
“Outside source. Why do you phrase it like that?” Roberts said.
Caldwell looked at Davenport, expecting him to take over from there. Davenport cleared his throat and began talking. “We’ve come to believe it’s some type of personal matter.”
“Personal matter. Such as?”
“We’re still digging into it.”
“You’re gonna have to give me something better, Sam,” Roberts said. “You obviously have some type of information leading you in that direction.”
“It’s more theory on our part right now than actual facts.”
“OK. Explain how you got there.”
“As Director Caldwell said, we’ve checked every single assignment 17’s been on, and there are no red flags, no anomalies, except for one. And it was internal.”
“Internal?” Executive Director Manning asked. “You mean somebody who works for us.”
“Well, worked. But yeah, that’s what we think,” Davenport said.
Manning looked less than convinced. “OK. So why?”
“Three years ago, 17 was part of a group of agents that participated in the elimination of one of our Centurion agents in London.”
“What were the circumstances?” Roberts said, locking his fingers together as he prepared to listen.
Davenport opened one of the file folders he’d brought with him and took out papers relating to the case, passing them across the table to each man in the room. There were three sheets of paper stapled together, with information about the assignment, Recker’s picture, and his bio.
“John Smith was the alias he used while with us. He was a Centurion operative who’d grown tired of his role with the agency and spilled classified information to his girlfriend at the time,” Davenport said.
“It says here he was ambushed in London, but somehow survived the attack,” Manning said.
“That’s right. He was shot, but he killed three of our agents in the process, and wound up in a hospital. Once we got word he was there and we arrived, he was gone.”
“And you never found him again?”
“He disappeared. We didn’t get another hit on him until six months later when he booked a plane ticket to Orlando, Florida.”
“For what purpose?” Roberts looked confused.
“That was where his girlfriend lived and was killed,” Davenport said.
“And why was she taken out? The information in this report seems sketchy and doesn’t really say much.”
“Smith had gone to her and told her about his role in Centurion. We thought it was a security risk.”
Roberts investigative tail was up as he started grilling for answers. “Why? How do you know? And how you do you know he dispensed information to her? Did you have him bugged, tailed, receive a tip, what?”
“No, Smith told us.”
“He told you? He just flat out came into your office and told you?”
“Well, he said he was weary of his job and wanted to leave,” Davenport said, trawling his memory. “In the course of our discussion, he indicated he had told his girlfriend certain aspects of his employment. Centurion is a top secret black ops project and cannot be revealed to anyone in any sort of fashion. So, we concluded he was becoming unstable and his girlfriend was a non-essential risk we couldn’t tolerate.”
Roberts held Davenport’s eye for a moment. “So, you wouldn’t have actually had any such information had he not walked into your office and revealed it, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Now does it seem logical a man would do that if he was some sort of risk?”
“We didn’t feel it was a risk worth taking.”
“And how does 17 play into this?”
“17 was the agent who killed Smith’s girlfriend,” Davenport said as he wiped his face, a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.
“And you think now, after all this time, Smith came back and killed him for revenge?” Manning said.
“While we have no proof at the moment, it’s a working theory we’re pursuing right now, yes.”
“So, he just dropped out of sight for six months after London,” Roberts said. “Then he popped up on the radar with a plane ticket to Florida. What happened there?”
“He never got off the plane.”
“So, he probably creates a ruse to get all the attention down there while he moves in a different direction.”
“We believe so.”
“And Smith knows 17 killed his girlfriend because…” Manning said.
“Smith called his girlfriend to warn her but 17 answered the phone and they had a brief discussion,” Davenport said, squirming in his seat.
“This sounds like it came right out of a movie or something,” Roberts said. “Do you have Smith’s file on you?”
“Not on me, no.”
“Jeff, pull up his file.”
“No problem,” Manning said, typing into his laptop.
The men continued discussing the specifics of the two cases and threw some more theories into the air for a few more minutes until Manning pulled up Smith’s file.
“Coming on the big screen now,” Manning said.
They turned their heads to look at the monitor on the wall, a big seventy inch screen displaying Smith’s personal information, as well as his Centurion assignments. They made several comments in passing as they perused the information before coming to a final conclusion after they finished.
“Looks as close to a perfect record as you can get,” Roberts said. “What made you think he was a risk?”
“Just a feeling and from what he had said to me already,” Davenport said.
Roberts sighed as he looked down at the desk and wiped his face with his hand, obviously distraught at what was going on.
“This is a complete mess,” the director said. “So, we don’t know for sure this is the work of Smith. We’re just assuming it is.”
“Correct,” Davenport said.
“And there’s no video surveillance from the airport, surrounding areas, roadways, highways, nothing to implicate him either.”
“No, but that would give further credence to the theory that it’s him. He’d know how to avoid all those things.”
“Can I ask why I’m just hearing about this London thing three years later?” Roberts said. “Why wasn’t I informed of this when it happened? Jeff, were you aware of this?”
“I was not,” Manning said.
“So, who was informed of this plan, Sam?”
“I informed Director Caldwell of our intentions before it was carried out and got his approval,” Davenport said. He could feel the damp patch of sweat on his back growing with every minute.
“Dean?”
“I was informed of the general circumstances, but did not review the situation in depth. I relied on the information I was given and gave the green light,” Caldwell said.
“And what information was that?” Roberts asked.
“That one of our agents had revealed sensitive information to a civilian and approval was asked for to eliminate that agent along with the civilian he had contact with.”
Everyone was silent for a minute as Roberts put his elbow on the table and rubbed his forehead as he looked down at the information Davenport had passed around. There was no doubt the director was obviously displeased at how the situation had been handled. After reading a few paragraphs of text, Roberts finally spoke up again.
“I’m a little bit perplexed, and perturbed, at how this entire situation has not crossed my desk before now,” he said. “An agent with a near perfect record was terminated, or attempted as such, along with a United States civilian killed, within our country’s borders no less, and I’m just hearing about this three years later. Jeff, how is this possible?”
“I can’t say, sir. I wasn’t informed of it either,” Manning said.
“Sam, can you explain why this didn’t go up the chain of command?”
“I asked for permission from Director Caldwell and got it. I figured it was a Centurion issue and it was handled. Nothing else needed to be said about it,” Davenport said.
“For the record, the killing of a civilian within our borders is not a pressing issue that needed to be handled immediately. At least not one who doesn’t appear to be much of a threat or flight risk, as this woman was,” Roberts said. “I’ll give you an agent who’s as skilled and lethal as Smith is, maybe there isn’t time to go up the ladder. But the woman, that’s gotta go across my desk. One hundred percent of the time. Understood?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“Good. Because if you had done so to begin with, I would not have authorized such an action based on the information you’ve acquired, which is flimsy at best.”
“Understood.”
“Regardless, it doesn’t change the circumstances of whether Smith is responsible for 17’s death,” Manning said.
“Do we have any idea where Smith may be now?” Roberts said.
“Well, we believe that due to the Orlando plane ticket, he’s somewhere in the United States,” Davenport said. “Probably on the east coast.”
Roberts put his hands together and put them over his eyes and nose as he shook his head, looking like he had a migraine coming on.
“OK, well, regardless of my feelings of what’s already gone down, we need to start making some hay on this,” Roberts said. “Sam, you’re in charge of Centurion, it’s your project, it’s your men, you find where Smith is. I want you to put resources into it immediately. You’ll report directly to Jeff on this and keep him updated every day on your progress, or lack thereof.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Once you find his location, you’re to sit tight on it and bring it to my desk, is that clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“If Smith’s our man, and he’s the one who killed 17, it’s not likely he’s gonna go down without a fight. We cannot afford to make a bigger mess on top of the one you’ve already created.” Roberts said, pointedly looking around at the other men in the room.
“Can I ask another question?” Manning said. “What’s the status of everyone else who was involved in the London operation?”
“In what way?” Davenport asked.
“Well are they alive, dead, what?”
“Well, the three agents who attempted to kill Smith are dead.”
“Killed at the scene while trying to terminate him?”
“Correct?”
“Who else?”
“Smith’s handler was in London at the time, and there was another agent who was at the girlfriend’s house in Florida.”
“And they’re still alive?” Manning said.
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“What are you thinking, Jeff?” Roberts asked.
“Seems kind of strange. If Smith was out for revenge, don’t you think he’d take everyone out, not just one?”
“Maybe the one’s all he knew.”
“An agent’s handler is a personal connection. If he was that pissed, wouldn’t you think he’d be at the top of the list?” Manning asked. “I mean, Smith would probably know how or where he could take him out if he wanted.”
“The other issue is how Smith would have found out where 17 is located,” Roberts said. “He didn’t hit him overseas, he hit him where he lives. Somebody got him the information.”
“We’ve checked our infrastructure and we’ve had no data breaches in regard to his file,” Davenport said. “And he’s got nobody else in the agency to turn to. We’ve checked to make sure nobody’s made contact with him, and from what we can tell, nobody has. We’ve even kept tabs on his mentor who’s now retired, and they’ve never met or made contact since all this went down.”
“Well right now we’re looking like world class buffoons, including me since I wasn’t aware of any of this, so you better get the situation under control.”
“We will. I would suggest one small thing if I could.”
“Which is?”
“If we get a hit on him somewhere, I believe we should take him out immediately,” Davenport said. “He’s too dangerous to not act right away.”
“Sam, you’ve already bungled one operation, don’t make it two.” Roberts’ warning was clear. “You make a move without clearing it with Jeff or myself and you will pay for it, am I making myself clear?”
“You are.”
“It’s also very rare for a man, even one as skilled and talented as Smith is, to just vanish without a trace. There’s always a bread crumb somewhere. We need to find it. You don’t disappear without help. Someone out there knows something. Find them.”
2
Recker strolled into the office a little past nine in the morning, ready to begin work on a new case. He finished his previous assignment the day before by disposing of a man who had planned on murdering his wife for insurance money. Though Recker would have preferred doing away with the man permanently, Jones persuaded him to just temporarily disable the perpetrator until police arrived. Recker left enough evidence behind that Jones had discovered which should have been enough to convict the man, without the need for further violence. As soon as
Recker walked in, he noticed Jones seemed to be working rather hard, swiveling from one computer to another almost seamlessly.
“Anything on the horizon?” Recker said.
“A few promising prospects,” Jones said. “Probably will take another day or two to flesh them out more until we can take action on them.”
“Vacation day today then?”
“Hardly.”
“Looks like you’re typing away hot and heavy for something that’s not imminent.”
“There’s something which requires immediate attention, just not regarding us,” Jones said. “Well, it involves us, more specifically you, but not an upcoming case.”
“Did you just speak English?”
“What I’m trying to tell you is something popped up on my Recker Radar.”
“Recker Radar? Is that actually a thing?”
“It’s what I named my government surveillance software program involving you.”
“Oh. Interesting,” Recker said. “So, you’re telling me my name resurfaced somewhere?”
“It did. Approximately three weeks ago there appears to have been a high-level meeting among several high-ranking CIA officers and directors.”
“So? It’s common you know. It happens all the time.”
“Yes, but just before the meeting, I got a hit on a memo with your John Smith alias. It came from someone named Sam Davenport and was sent to Executive Director Manning and the date was two days before that meeting.”
“Was Davenport there?” Recker asked, finally concerned.
“He was as far as I can tell. That’s one of the issues I was having as I cannot place exactly what this Davenport’s role in the agency is.”
“He’s in charge of the Centurion Project.”
“Then you know him?”
“I do. He’s the one I initially talked to about leaving the agency. Who else was at this meeting?”