Corrupt

by J L Terra

  “As I said on the phone, I’m Wilson Patrick Richards the Third. Director of European operations for the CIA.”

  In the CIA, division names were euphemisms for branches no one was supposed to know about, and which only existed on paper. This guy really was over all Europe, though. Grant had looked the guy up himself, not wanting to bother Remy with it when she was busy looking for Ben. Wilson Patrick Richards. The Third. Ten years working under the director for Eastern Europe and almost ten more in the position he held now.

  Grant kept all expression from his face. The man’s dark hair was a little too shiny, his mouth nothing but a thin line. The suit was nice enough. Designer label tailored perfectly to obscure the slight bulge in Wilson Patrick Richards’s stomach that came from a career behind a desk. Both of Grant’s girls were at Harvard, and one had dated some guy from Georgia. Son of a senator. So-and-so the Third. Like that didn’t make you sound completely pretentious just filling it out on a form, let alone actually using it to introduce yourself.

  “So how can I help you, Director Richards?”

  “Mmm. As I said, I have something to show you.”

  The man twisted in his chair and picked up a clicker from inside an open briefcase. His face registered the perfect amount of calmed distress. As though he had a problem which bothered him but which he wasn’t able to solve. At least not without Grant’s assistance.

  With the other hand, Richards lifted a remote from the tabletop and used it to open a cupboard on the far wall. The doors whirred as they spread, revealing a widescreen Samsung TV.

  Another click of the remote turned it on, and Director-the-Third tossed the remote on his desk with a clatter.

  “What I’m about to show you has not even been revealed to my colleagues at the CIA,” Richards began. “As soon as the information was brought to me, I rerouted it out of the regular chain of communication. I’m sure you’ll understand why I did so.”

  Grant didn’t say anything. This had better be important. He’d only figured it was about Ben because of the timing. Still, he’d rather get back to his mom at the hospital.

  Richards pressed his clicker, and a photograph came on screen. Behind the person was a wall of white tiles, and the figure was blurred. A sign in the corner said, WESTMIN—the rest having been cut off by the frame.

  “I’m bringing you this out of courtesy. Your reputation in this town is one of professionality that demands respect the way few others can. Your service to the US Marshals was exemplary.”

  “Thank you.” Grant wasn’t grateful, he was simply polite. “But I’m not sure what this has to do with me.”

  Richards clicked again, and the frame closed in on the figure’s face. A grouping of circles connected with lines traced the image and a search result popped up beside the face.

  A picture of Ben. Considering there were none in any database anywhere, it was pretty impressive. This man had connections. “Director Richards—”

  “Shortly after this was taken by surveillance cameras, an elderly man collapsed of heart failure into a train seat.” Richards paused. “I understand there is little you can reveal as to your brother’s precise location.”

  How much did this guy know about Ben being missing? The people who’d captured him considered him a threat. But they couldn’t control him. He’d escaped and they’d lost men in the process. Were they scrambling? Saving face, or trying to contain what they thought was a genuine threat. Either way didn’t bode well for Ben.

  This guy had checked out as CIA. If they turned on Ben, the whole business would suffer. Their freedom could be in jeopardy. If what Ben did got out to the general public, they all might end up in jail just so the government could save face.

  “I can see how you might think that is my brother.” He tried to think fast. “When was this taken?”

  “Thursday.”

  “I can assure you my brother was not in London last Thursday.” Ben hadn’t been anywhere near there. This man was fishing, for certain. But for what? “That picture could be anyone.”

  Richards nodded slowly as he studied Grant. “Could be anyone. That’s an interesting way of putting it. No denial it’s your brother—”

  Grant shrugged. “What reason would I have to incriminate my brother in…what did you call it? Heart failure.”

  “He was there.”

  If this man wanted to come after his family, for whatever reason, Grant wasn’t going to sit here and give him air time. Retribution would be swift. But it wouldn’t come from him. “You want me to inform my brother that you find him guilty of a man’s death from natural causes? I fail to see how that could be conceived as purposeful harm.”

  “Interesting.” Richards leaned back in his chair.

  “You want me to find him for you.”

  The CIA director said nothing.

  “My brother is missing and has been for a few days now.” That was mostly true.

  Grant studied him. If he exposed the man as part of this, he’d no doubt have a fight on his hands. By the look of this guy, Grant would lose. “I’m sure he’ll contact me soon, though. I’ll be sure to pass on the message that you think he’s capable of being on two sides of the world at once.”

  He stood. Before Grant could get to the door of the guy’s office, he said, “One more thing.”

  Grant halted and turned back, feeling distinctly played. “Yes, Director?”

  Clicker.

  “This photo was taken on Saturday.”

  The cell phone-captured picture was of a couple smiling. Blue sky. Sunglasses. On vacation, most likely, but they were sitting on a concrete structure.

  “This is Pointe Du Hoc, now a tourist trap. It was the sight of the—”

  “D-day landing.” Grant finished for him. “I’m familiar with it.”

  Richards clicked again, and it zoomed in. The background showed a blonde man, clearly a Mason brother. This was a much clearer image. Ben stood beside an older man.

  “Brian Pilsen, the man beside your brother, collapsed in the parking lot not ten minutes later.”

  He could argue Ben hadn’t even been in France on Saturday, because he’d been chasing that flash drive all over an entirely different continent. Instead he said, “Why are you telling me this?”

  Richards’s face was somber. “You may be the only one who can implore him to stand down.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Even if your brother is employed by whomever chooses to obtain the services of a man of his…caliber, I highly doubt his job would entail killing a former Czech spy and an old veteran revisiting his glory days.” Richards face reddened, and he stood. “These people are innocents your brother had no business murdering.”

  “Which is something I can assure you he did not do.” Grant folded his arms. “And if you really believe he’s such a threat to innocent people, why pull me in here for this meeting? Why not simply alert the right person and have whatever permissions and opportunities he receives revoked? I’m sure the right bug in the right ear would put an end to it.”

  Richards was silent for a moment, before he said, “Men with too much power often take matters into their own hands. Thinking they’re above the law, these men will serve their own ends.”

  “While that may be true, my brother is an independent contractor.”

  “A fact this government is entirely unhappy with.”

  “Can’t have it both ways,” Grant said. He’d made this argument many times before. “Even the police and federal agencies have those they are accountable to. The military has a chain of command. No one can expect to run around without someone to answer to. My brother has that, and he also performs that function for the few who consider themselves unchecked. And until I verify these weren’t mission related, that’s my only answer.”

  He reached for the door handle. “I’d caution you against postulating murder and throwing around accusations when the reality is likely far simpler: Two tragic deaths from natural causes, give
n how old the men were, and a couple of images of a man who doesn’t exist that may or may not connect them to each other.”

  “I’ll find evidence,” Richards said. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  “I do worry, Director. It’s my job.”

  “Your brother needs to be stopped. He is an evil this world struggles to contain, and you’re the only one who can get close enough to do the right thing.” Richards paused. “You are an honorable man. Your entire career you’ve safeguarded innocent people. Now it’s time to protect all of them from your brother Ben.”

  Richards actually looked scared. Grant understood that in part, but Ben wasn’t some kind of crazed freak. He was just a man. Grant bit down on his molars. There were people in Washington who disagreed with what Ben did, but even the president agreed Ben was a necessary evil in an out-of-control world. Most days the fight for peace was vicious, and victory wasn’t even assured. Ben brought calm where there was chaos, order where there was disorder, and an end to destruction. Once he’d explained it, Grant had begun to see it with his own eyes.

  Ben wasn’t always good, but he was careful to make sure he was right. He lived his life honorably, the way Grant wanted to.

  “So I kill him?” Grant asked. “Or I turn him over to you, is that it? Why would I do that?”

  “You know he’s a threat.”

  “And you can’t contain him, so I have to do it?” Grant lifted his hands then let them drop back to his sides. “Ben doesn’t need to be contained.”

  Richards hit his clicker again.

  It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Grant tasted his breakfast, then swallowed it back down. “What is—”

  “He is dangerous.” Richards pointed at the screen. “And capable of this.”

  Grant just stared. Was that supposed to be people? There was hardly any resemblance to actual bodies given the carnage. Ben had done this?

  “I think you’ve always known he was different. Maybe not that he had this in him,” Richards said. “But he’s snapped. Your brother is out of control. Tell us where he is. Trust us to bring him in. To contain him so that no one else gets hurt.”

  The image changed again. Two men in a hallway. Gunshots.

  Grant sucked in a clean breath, glad he didn’t have to look at that bloody scene anymore. He didn’t live in that world and had convinced himself Ben didn’t utilize that level of violence.

  What if he’d just been kidding himself about what his brother was capable of all this time? Coming to work for Ben had seemed like a great idea. He’d been happy to run the networking side of things, utilizing his Washington D.C. contacts. Maybe he’d just been blind to what Ben was actually doing on those missions he went on.

  Richards said, “I see you’re beginning to realize the truth. That is the first step.” He paused. “If we work together, I’m sure we can come to an agreement. Do the best thing for everyone. No one will get hurt, and the world will be safe from your brother.”

  **

  As soon as the door shut, Director Richards lifted his phone from under papers inside the briefcase. CLONE SUCCESSFUL.

  Grant Mason had looked sick when he left. That job was done. Plus he now had what he needed from this meeting.

  Richards packed up his belongings and went up two floors, where he entered a room on the west side of the chain hotel. The house had been compromised, and everyone had retreated to bolt holes until the call came to reconvene.

  Inside the room, he shed the wig and the suit. Pulled on jeans and a button down light blue shirt. He took off the fake nose and contacts and put his glasses back on.

  When he was himself again, he made the call.

  “Is it done?”

  “I still think it was a risky move. We’ve essentially told them what we know. That we couldn’t handle him. And when—”

  “Grant Mason won’t tell his brother what you’ve just told him. Because, deep down inside, he believes you might actually be right. His brother is capable of monstrous things, as we all know. Grant has had an inkling of this for a while now, but we’ve just given him the proof.”

  He squeezed the bridge of his nose and then readjusted his glasses. “You really think this is going to work?” He didn’t want to question the Teacher, but Ben Mason wasn’t going to go down easily a second time.

  “For our mothers. For our fathers.”

  “For our sisters,” he quoted by rote. “For our brothers.”

  “For our children. This evil will be stopped.”

  The phone to his ear beeped. Richards pulled it away and looked at the screen. “He’s making a call.”

  “Who?”

  “Jeffrey Harkum. CIA.”

  Chapter 31

  Shenandoah National Park, VA. Friday, 22:27hrs EDT

  Daire stuck his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the path that curled through the trees. The leather in his jacket creaked loud in the quiet of the night. It helped to move once every few minutes. People picked up on it if you were still for too long. Even if it was an ingrained habit he wasn’t likely to change at this point in his life.

  He wasn’t going to learn patience, either.

  “I like it here.” He didn’t turn to Mei, who was watching the other direction. Just in case. “I might come back. Go camping.”

  She snorted behind him. “You? Camping?”

  “I could camp.”

  “I believe you.” Laughter laced her tone. “You’d be wearing your leather jacket. Sleeping on one of those ancient Army surplus blankets that’s totally scratchy. Cooking wild boar over an open fire.”

  He stuck his lip out but only because she couldn’t see him. “That might be pushing it.”

  Mei sighed. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Distracting me, mostly from wanting to go back and waterboard that Elaine woman until she tells us exactly what went on in that house with Ben.”

  “Maybe later.”

  She said, “I’m serious. She can tell us what they did to him. Who the others were. If she tells us who is in charge, we can go get them.”

  “We have to tread carefully, Mei. They have resources we can’t compete with.”

  “If you quote Sun Tzu to me, I’m going to slap you.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “I’m just saying, she’s part of it.”

  He sighed. “I know, but we can’t expose ourselves to people who will ask questions we can’t answer. The cops, even the FBI, will realize fast that we aren’t who we said we are. I don’t want to have lived this long, do all the things we do, and wind up in jail for impersonating a federal agent. That’s only one step above mail fraud.”

  “Beneath your clearly superior status?”

  Daire said, “If I’m going down, that’s fine. It’s the life we live, always on the fringe. But it had better be for a reason. A good, real reason.”

  “Mental note. Only go to jail for something serious,” she said. “Got it.” She was quiet for a minute. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

  Daire reached back and found her hand. Squeezed it. “He’ll come. He wants to know what Remy found out from Roger’s journal.”

  “But she backed him into a corner. He could just take it elsewhere.”

  “He’ll come,” Daire said. “Even though he wants to keep us all at arm’s length, I have no doubt part of him wants to see you.” He knew that much about his friend. “Ben might act all prickly and withdrawn, always the lone gunman. But that isn’t who he is, Mei. He loves you, and he values the team. Enough to do what Remy asked.”

  “To make sure I’m safe.” She evidently didn’t like the sound of that.

  “It’s a father thing.”

  “It’s an overprotective thing that has nothing to do with the fact he isn’t actually my father at all.” There was an edge to her voice. “He’ll probably leave as soon as he sees I’m fine.”

  “We’re going to be okay, you know.” Daire scanned the trees even whi
le he talked. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Surely she knew that. If not for the fact they were teammates who had each other’s backs, he had his code. The honor he’d lived his life by all these years wouldn’t let him stand by while Mei got hurt. Ben trusted him to make sure she was protected. It had been a condition of her being hired, one that Daire was never going to share with her. Still, even without that he’d have made sure he had Mei’s back. She was fearless, but that only made him want to safeguard her all the more.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I wouldn’t respect you if you couldn’t.”

  “Oh,” Mei said. “Thanks. I guess.”

  Daire smiled to himself. “You’re welcome.” He glanced at his watch. “He should be here any minute—”

  “He’s here.”

  Daire spun around. Ben strode from the trees toward them and stopped fifteen feet away. He looked fine, no obvious wounds Daire could see. He’d fought his way out of captivity and seemed unaffected by it—at least physically.

  Where was Taya? Daire wanted to meet the woman Remy had said was with Ben.

  Would Daire’s boss ever tell them what happened to him inside that giant house? Despite what he’d said to Mei, Daire also wanted more answers.

  Ben’s head shifted. It was too dark to track his gaze, the moon and stars the only light this far from any town. He wore only jeans, sneakers, and a blue T-shirt. The night held a chill, but he didn’t seem at all cold.

  When Ben said nothing, Daire decided to fill the silence. “Are you okay?”

  “I am fine.”

  “Good. We were worried.” But standing with Mei like this, it felt like they were a team. Not just Ben’s employees, more than that. There was a solidarity between them. “I’m glad you got out of there.”

  “Do you want to know what Remy found?” Mei pulled her phone from her back pocket and swiped through to the notes she’d made. “It’s pretty interesting.”

  Maybe he would listen and then leave. Daire had hoped Ben would come with them. Maybe he’d have to persuade his friend to rejoin the group. Surely together they’d have a better shot at figuring out who kidnapped Ben.