by S. Burke
“You crashed, so I just covered you up.”
“Thanks, Trish.” He looked at his watch; he’d been asleep for two hours and, by the look of the bottle of Jack Daniels, Trish had been wide awake for that time.
Trish caught the look. “Yeah, I know, Henry. I will need to stop drinking this hard, but not today or in the next few days for that matter.”
“I understand, but you also know you will need all your faculties to be sharp. Agreed?”
“Agreed. I’ll watch it. Okay?”
Henry nodded.
“Are you hungry?” Trish asked.
Henry thought for a moment. “I am. I’ll rustle us up something, unless you’d prefer take out?”
“Home cooked sounds great. I’ll give you a hand. What did you have in mind?”
“The boys got everything on the list, so we are well stocked. How about I barbecue a couple of steaks, with a salad? It should be warm outside and this location is very private.”
“God, Henry, it sounds so … so normal.”
“Yeah, I think a small slice of normal will do us no harm, Trish.”
“Make mine a huge serving of normal and a medium rare steak.”
“After dinner we talk. I have a couple of things I want to run by you. Are you good with that?”
“It wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t, Henry. We need to do it. For now though, let’s help ourselves to some down time.”
Henry stood, finding himself a little cramped after sleeping in the chair. He looked at his hands, surprised that they hurt quite badly. Both were swollen, and more than a little bloodied.
Trish noticed and looked enquiringly at him.
“My version of letting off steam got a little messy. I have a first-aid-kit- I’ll clean ’em up and then fire up the barbecue.”
“I’ll make a start on the salad. What about some fries?”
“Sounds great. I’ll show you where everything is.”
“No need. I checked it all out when I put the groceries away.”
“Good. Let’s make a start then.”
They ate dinner and sat quietly on the jetty watching the fishing boats returning, catching the occasional sound of music as it drifted across the river. By mutual consent they returned inside.
Henry took out Ted’s letter and handed it to her. He watched intently as she absorbed what it contained.
“Jesus,” was all she managed to utter. “The video?” she asked next.
“It was blank. Someone has the real one. God only knows what’s on it. Given the warning in Ted’s letter, I’d say it’s dynamite.”
“You think Ted was being blackmailed? What could they have used against him?”
“Ted had enormous gambling debts, Trish. Perhaps someone picked up the tab in exchange for … what? Shit, I don’t know. But he had a tape in his possession; maybe he was killed because he was the one trying to blackmail someone else. He may have been holding the tape as a form of life insurance, and someone else discovered it, or he trusted someone else enough to show it to them.”
“What now, Henry? What do we do?”
“I have a couple of things I’m tossing around in my head. I know for certain what we don’t do. We don’t tell anyone what we have pieced together. Can we agree on that, for starters?”
“Jesus, yes. None of this can ever go public. Besides which we don’t know exactly what transpired and who the other players are yet.”
“Agreed. Trish, I don’t think you should keep on working in that environment …”
“But, Henry …”
“Hear me out. Ted left me his collection of Vintage cars. They are worth a small fortune and will sell fast. I want to set up a private security firm. One here in DC and one in Los Angeles. I want you to head the company. This end will mainly consist of hiring and training private bodyguards, and you can do that with your eyes closed; plus it will keep you in the loop of what’s happening on the political scene. You know the egos of most of our Senators and Congressmen and women. If one has a trained bodyguard, the others will follow suit. In Los Angeles we’ll make the big money to keep the business going here. Bodyguards trained by ex FBI operatives will be popular amongst the Hollywood crowd. They’ll like the prestige that comes with it. Thoughts, Trish?
“Wow, you have really thought this through. It sounds, at least on the surface, wonderful actually. As long as we keep searching for answers. Unofficially, of course. Would these employees be recruited from the public arena?”
“Yes. I think you’ll find once word of this gets out, and I’ll make certain it does, you may have a number of ex-FBI and other ‘security’ types jockeying for positions,” Henry said.
“How long will it take to set up?”
“Couple of weeks, by the time I register the business. It will be in your name, Trish, only if you’re agreeable, of course. I’ll simply be the financial backer, at least on paper. I’ll stay with the Bureau for the remainder of Elizabeth Shea’s Presidency. It would look suspicious if we both resigned. Frankly, I wish I could.”
“What explanation do I give for my absence this past week?” Trish asked.
“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is probably more than a little accurate. Nigel Cantrell will accept that without question. Mike will be unhappy no matter what you say, especially when you resign. I will be surprised if he doesn’t break down completely. I know you care about him, Trish, and I’m sincerely sorry, but there is no other way we can move forward I can think of. Please, if you can think of anything we can do differently, tell me.”
“Nothing. How soon do I resign?”
“Let’s leave that till Monday, shall we? I think you may need a few days to get your head around all the changes that will occur in your life. Get plenty of rest, and a little less booze. You’ll be able to resign on the spot given your state of mind. I have a contact who will attest to the fact that you are being treated for PTSD. You will have to see him once or twice, in case Nigel does some checking. Are you fine with that?”
“What? Yes, sorry, Henry. This is happening so fast. It will work, though. As for the things we have found, we don’t give up on finding out what went down, and who the instigators were?”
“God, no. This set up, the company, allows us to keep seeking facts, as long as we are careful. I’ll tell Matheson and Cantrell you have been in touch with me, and that you will be back in on Monday. I will not tell them you have resigned yet. We do that together, okay?”
“Thank you, Henry. I have so much to think about. I’ll need to get another apartment. Too many memories associated with my current one.”
“You can stay here, indefinitely if you like. I own the place and that will at the very least give you breathing space. You’ll need to find suitable offices and training facilities. That will keep you busy enough for a while; then we can sit down and go through a training formula, and what types we will be recruiting.”
“Are we wrong, Henry?” Trish asked, knowing what his answer would be.
“I don’t think so. Like you, I wish, no, I pray that we are. Sadly only time will tell. I know I’m rushing this, and I apologize. It’s a lot for you to take in, and take on, at this stage, but I believe we both need to be doing something urgent, something focused and purpose directed, if only to help the two of us hold on to what remains of our beliefs and our sanity.” Henry took her hands in his. “We both need someone to trust. For now, we are all we’ve got.”
Chapter 52
Jeff and James arrived back at their home having travelled in silence since leaving Henry’s.
Unspoken consent gravitated them both towards the bar and a couple of beers.
When they were seated outside at the end of the garden, Jeff said, “Well?”
“Tell me what you think first.” James almost whispered the words.
“Why?” asked Jeff.
“Please, bro’. Okay?”
“I think Henry knows more than he’s telling us.” Jeff wasn’t happy hearing his c
oncerns verbalized. “Maybe it’s unverified stuff. You know Henry is a stickler for verification of information. Dad and he complemented each other so well, and that’s why they worked as a team. Dad was like one of those bull terrier things, you know that. He’d just grab hold of something that looked feasible and shake the shit out of it to see what fell out.”
James laughed at his brother’s words, simply because they were so accurate.
“So, your turn,” Jeff said, not joining in the laughter.
“I agree with you, but what if they are keeping something from us, to protect us?” James looked at his brother.
“Protect us from what? Harm’s way? Yeah, that’s possible, likely even.”
“No, not harm’s way. Although there is that, I suppose. No, Jeff. What if they are both protecting us, from …” He couldn’t say the words.
“From what? What else could there be?”
James knew he had to say it. He expected his brother would either slug him or storm out. He prepared for both. “Jeff, what if they are protecting us from finding out that Dad was involved in something underhanded?”
Jeff surprised him … he neither hit him or stormed out. “Oh, God, bro’, you too? That fucking thought keeps slipping into my head no matter what I do.”
“What do we do? I mean, how do we find out?” James asked.
“I think we need specialised training, and then we need access to Bureau records. Only one place I know of where we can do both.”
“Quantico?” Jeff asked.
“Quantico,” James nodded.
Chapter 53
Nigel arrived at Heaven’s Gate uncertain of what he might be walking into. He didn’t like the feeling. His guts churned from the acid produced by stress and his head began to pound, heralding the onset of a migraine.
Knowing Craig as he did made him well aware of what it took for Craig to make a call for his assistance. It would be something bordering on catastrophic.
He made his way on foot using his torch set on low beam. The terrain was rough and the air cold, his breath frosting as he moved. He knocked on the door to Craig’s cabin, the Gluck sitting comfortably in his left hand, every sense on full alert.
Craig opened the door.
Nigel’s eyes swept the room, it was clear. Craig’s face was a study in concern.
“You made good time, buddy.” said Craig.
“It sounded urgent. What gives?” Nigel asked as he moved across the cabin.
Craig read the body language and said, “No need for the gun, buddy. Cabin’s clear and clean. Take a load off and I’ll fix you a drink. I think you’re gonna need it, in fact I think you may need quite a few.”
Nigel sat on the large sofa, and returned the Gluck to the back of his camouflage pants. “How far ahead of me are you with the booze, Craig?”
“Miles.”
“You begin to really worry me, my friend. This is out of character for you.”
Nigel took the offered drink and drank it quickly, then stood and went to the bar area and poured himself a double. He then sat opposite Craig and lit up a cigarette, rubbing his forehead as the headache again made its presence felt. He reached across for the backpack he’d carried in and pulled out his compact medical kit, removed the syringe and drew up the morphine, rolled back his sleeve and applied the tourniquet, and injected the liquid intravenously into the much used vein inside his elbow.
“You still use that stuff, huh? Migraine again?” asked Craig.
“Yeah … same shit; different day.”
“The booze won’t mix well.”
“Trust me, it works.”
“High tolerance?”
“Mount Everest has nothing on me.”
Craig laughed and the tension between the two old friends began to ease.
“You’re avoiding discussing the reason you called me, amigo. Is it really that bad?” Nigel asked, although he felt confident about what the response would be.
Craig sat quietly for a moment before responding, and then said, “On a scale of one to ten, with ten being worst case scenario; I’d have to say eleven.”
“So, one more double shot, and then we talk business. Okay?”
Craig reluctantly nodded his agreement and poured them both another heavy slug of the Southern Comfort.
“Nigel? Don’t shoot the messenger,” Craig said, and smiled.
Nigel took another long sip of his drink and remained silent.
Craig couldn’t stall any longer. He knew Nigel and hoped he knew what reaction he’d get when Nigel heard the recording.
“I listened in on the library. Sheila Harrington doesn’t usually watch videos, so I was intrigued when I heard the unmistakable sounds of a cassette being inserted into a video player. I can’t say more, Nigel. We’ll talk when you have heard it. Okay?”
“Deal. Now play it, for fuck’s sake.”
Craig pressed play. He listened again, watching Nigel’s face as he heard it for the first time.
“That’s Sheila laughing, then she played it again. Nigel? Need a drink?”
Nigel Cantrell nodded.
Craig sat and waited for his friend to say something, anything.
Nigel focused on the glass in his hand and remained silent.
“Do you recognize all the players?” Nigel finally asked.
“Most. Only one I couldn’t pick out, the accent was difficult to attach a location to.”
“The first man- Miguel Hernandez? Yes?”
“Yup.”
“How the hell did this happen?” Nigel almost whispered the words.
“I don’t know, buddy. I don’t want to believe any of it. We need to see that video.”
“Agreed. I’ll handle that. Play it again.” Nigel said.
Craig did as asked, although it had sounded more like an order. Nigel was shocked, that accounted for his manner. Craig rewound the tape and played it again.
“What are we going to do, Nigel?”
“We do whatever it takes to ensure that this never goes public. Whatever it takes, Craig. Understood?”
Craig looked at his friend’s face. He wouldn’t care to be in Sheila Harrington’s shoes. Nigel was very calm. Craig had seen it before when they had worked missions together. He relaxed a little, knowing full well that Nigel would make damned certain they acquired the video, and then do what needed to be done.
“When?” asked Craig.
“Now. You wait here. I’ll be back with the tape, and the Harrington woman.”
“How long?”
“As long as it takes, Craig. Stay here and wait.”
“Acknowledged.”
Chapter 54
Nigel left the cabin wearing his camouflage jacket, the Gluck in its place in the small of his back. The backpack sitting comfortably across his shoulder carried all he would need to succeed at what was coming.
He wasn’t happy. He had hoped against hope that this day would never come. But it was here, and he had no options left.
Making the calls, he spoke briefly and then waited.
Ten minutes later he watched as one figure emerged from the house and into the darkness to join him. They didn’t speak. Another figure came out from the direction of the staff cabins. It stopped and remained in the shadows to Nigel’s right.
Nigel phoned Craig. “Outside the main house, make it quick.”
“Copy that.”
Craig hurried, covering the distance rapidly on foot. He could see Nigel and the Harrington woman standing in the muted light emanating from the house. She was slumped over as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Nigel held what looked to be a cassette.
“Nice work, buddy!” said Craig as he reached them.
Nigel smiled. He then spoke into the microphone attached to his jacket. “Ranger, Pale Horse Down! Now!”
The bullet hit Craig in the back of the head. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Nigel couldn’t look at the body. He whispered, “Whatever it takes. I’m sorr
y, buddy.”
He signalled and the shooter stepped from the shadows and joined him and Sheila.
Looking at the shooter, she gasped, “Leonard? What the fuck?”
Nigel laughed at the expression on Sheila’s beautiful face. “Sheila, meet Ranger. Did you really think I’d leave you here without a babysitter?” He then spoke to the man. “Well done.”
“It’s been a while, Holliday. Do I get to have the very real pleasure of shooting her as well?” he asked hopefully.
The man known to them as Holliday shrugged. “Sorry, Ranger. Sheila has more work to do.”
“Pity. Do I get reassigned?” asked the man Sheila had until now known as her spineless employee Leonard.
Sheila was kicking herself. This ‘Ranger’ business will take quite a bit of getting used to.
Holiday replied, “Yes. You have earned a less stressful assignment. You will remain here. Sheila will be busy elsewhere for the immediate future. You can manage this place blindfolded, Ranger, agreed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I have arranged green cards for the staff. As long as they play nice and continue to lose the power of speech they remain safe … and legal.”
“What do you want done with him?” Ranger asked, looking down at Craig’s still warm body.
“Make him disappear.”
“Copy that.”
Nigel then turned to Sheila. “I knew that one of them would manage to get away with filming the meeting. Who had the tape? Prendergast?”
Sheila said, “That’s the one.”
Nigel/Holliday placed his arm around her shoulders, “You, my love, have been a very bad girl.”
Sheila Harrington snuggled up close. “But, honey, that’s part of my charm. I just took out a little life insurance. You taught me to be prepared for any eventuality. Am I to be punished?”
“Oh, yes.”
She looked at his face and relaxed. “I look forward to it.”
Chapter 55
Three Days Later