A middle aged not unattractive female banker raised one finger. “Our operation concerning the president’s daughter is ongoing.”
The chairman nodded. That was the only bright spark in this whole debacle—an avenue to follow—the end of which might actually provide results.
The operation, wherein the president and first lady were killed, had been a complete and total disaster. “Any recent report?”
Her smile dropped. “Uh… Regrettably, no.”
Ah, so she was simply sucking up to him. It would work; he was self-aware enough to know that. But that would be later. For now, Claire Horton needed a little encouragement in the right direction. “Our operation in the town of Sanctuary appears to be yielding little results.”
“President Sheraton took his own measures. That was a surprise to all of us. Now the media is all over this, crying about injustice, since the suspects are dead and there aren’t any further answers.”
“Another operation with no results and with the added bonus of media coverage? It’s too much attention.” He fisted his hand on the table. “Our benefactor is growing tired with the snail’s pace of this venture. You fear discovery when you should fear what will happen if our property is not found. Nothing else will be tolerated.”
The young man cleared his throat. “Our operation concerning Lieutenant Myerson was successful.”
“However…”
“He has disclosed nothing concerning his wife. And there has been no report from my contact in the last eighteen hours. They have missed the last two check-ins.”
The chairman sighed. “Then he has killed his captors and escaped.”
Wordless objections were murmured from around the room. The chairman ignored them. Useless foreigners. They were supposed to have the blood of ancient warriors in their veins, and yet they were reasonless savages with no concept of the subtleties of warfare.
He continued, “And our next step?”
The female banker answered. “We inform each of our assets to move into place, as we are moving up the plan.”
The chairman stood. “We go to phase two.”
Each of them uttered, “Yes, sir.”
None of them needed to know the figurehead of their organization was nothing but a pawn, unlike the rest of them. Each thought they were serving that man, when the chairman was the one in charge, running things with an ear to the ground just the way he liked.
If anything were to come to light—which he highly doubted—the chairman would not be implicated as the one to blame.
The rest of these peons at the table with him would likely roll over and squeal like little pigs when faced with the threat of jail time.
One day, he swore to himself, he would work with professionals. He would do something meaningful that the world would remember.
But first he had to get his hands on those two suitcases.
Hours later, after the dinner rush had died down, the Chinatown restaurant’s old oven unexpectedly exploded, destroying the building and killing the owner and his two sons.
**
“I want her arrested.” Grant’s lips pressed together, every bit the director of a federal agency.
“I agree.” Sam turned from the IT guy to the rest of the men. “She should be locked up. Or whatever you people do with criminals.”
For all he knew, they took them somewhere quiet and killed them. It was witness protection.
John worked his jaw back and forth. “She can’t go anywhere. There’s no way out of town for her, and she has little access to the outside world, and that is monitored closely. There’s a limit to what she can do, and we’ll put surveillance on her around the clock.”
The image jostled as he strode down a dark set of stairs. When he sat again, it was in an office chair. He lifted a phone handset. “Hal? John. Go find Beth. Yes.” He hung up.
Ben turned to the IT guy. “Run facial recognition on the woman who took Abigail Myerson’s place. And I want you to find the real Abigail, immediately.”
The man scurried out the door.
Sam folded his arms. “If she’s around Beth, she can’t be loose.”
“No one can get in or out of town without the military knowing about it. No one can make a call outside of the town; the phone system doesn’t even do that. Only my phone does. All internet traffic is monitored by the NSA. This woman impersonating Abigail Myerson knows very well she can’t make one move without someone knowing or seeing.”
“So what is her game?”
Grant thought it over. “If they’ve infiltrated the town, then they already know all about Sanctuary. They formulated a plan and got someone inside without us even knowing.” He slammed his fist on his knee. “This whole situation is going from bad to worse, and I didn’t think it could get worse than being blamed for the president’s death.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” Ben said it with an ease that suggested they’d had this conversation before.
“It was my detail…and my plan.”
“Thomas Sheraton closed you in a corner and gave you no choice. If you’d have denied the president a meeting with his wife much longer, he’d have broken away from his detail and done it himself.”
Grant shook his head. “He was supposed to be safe. We tell people that if they follow the rules, they won’t be hurt. How can I tell anyone that now when it got someone killed?”
Ben studied his brother.
Sam got up. “I’m done talking about this. I’m going to Sanctuary.”
Grant nodded. “I have the paperwork all ready. You need to sign it anyway, even if people think you’re dead. I’ll hold it in reserve until you come out in the open. Procedure is procedure.”
So long as Beth would be safe and he could talk with this woman who’d been an accomplice to his mom’s kidnapping. Maybe she could tell him where they were holding his mom.
“We need to figure this out, Lieutenant.”
Sam turned back at the doorway and looked at John’s image on the screen. “Figure out what? She’s obviously in town to hurt Beth. You have to understand I’m not going to let that happen.” He looked at Grant. “You’re not the only one pushed into a corner. These Defaeco people have destroyed my entire life. I’m going to find out why.”
Why everyone good he’d ever known was dead.
Why his teammate had betrayed them.
This secret had killed Beth’s parents, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. Before he’d been called out to rescue the State Department attaché, he’d been looking forward to spending more time with Beth now that she wasn’t dancing. And now? This wasn’t how he wanted to have her in his life full time. This wasn’t how he’d intended to leave the military.
“We can’t underestimate them any longer.”
“I know that, Grant.” Sam looked at John this time. “You want to catch her in the act—this woman pretending to be my mother?”
“It won’t work if you can’t play along with her. You have to pretend she’s your mother for real.”
“Obviously she’ll know something is up. She’ll be more cautious.”
“Doesn’t matter,” John said. “It’s a waiting game, and I’m guessing, faced with the prospect of a lifetime in my town playing happy families, it won’t take long for this woman to crack.”
“A lot is riding on this.”
“Then you’d better get here fast and make sure it goes right.” John’s face cracked in a smile.
Sam couldn’t help thinking he may have just been played.
“And I have an opening for a deputy sheriff, if you want a job.”
That was what this was about? “I’ll think about it.”
“See you when you get here.” John’s part of the call disconnected.
Grant said, “I’ll see you when you get here.”
Ben nodded, and Grant clicked off. He turned to Daire. “Show the lieutenant to his things. We’ll leave in thirty minutes.”
Daire hopped up and strode from
the room. Sam followed, easing into a stride faster than was comfortable for his leg. Daire flung a door open. A suitcase and a stack of cardboard boxes were piled in one corner of the otherwise empty room.
“How’d you get my stuff?”
Daire shrugged. “I...borrowed it.”
“From the naval base at Oceana?”
Daire’s lips curled up in a smile. “I’m really good. But you can’t take everything to Sanctuary, so pare it down.”
Daire stepped out and closed the door behind him. Sam pushed out a breath. In a matter of hours he’d get to see Beth. In the flesh, for once, when so much of their relationship had happened over the phone, or on video calls like the one between the brothers. Different time zones, different lives. Finally they would be in the same place for an extended period of time.
Sam didn’t think he could be on any team if his boys weren’t there. Could he be a SEAL without Swish, Wash, and Peace next to him? Sure, technically he was capable—after his leg healed. But would his heart be in it?
Pulling fresh clothes from the suitcase, Sam shucked his cargo pants and T-shirt and pulled on workout pants. He’d at least be comfortable for the flight. As soon as he pulled a sweatshirt over his clean T-shirt, someone knocked on the door. Cameras? Probably.
Ben came in. “Ready to go?”
“Not like I have anywhere else to be.”
“There is a choice here. A lot of people might fault you for not rushing to Beth’s side like the doting husband, but I’m not one of them. She and her parents got themselves into this when they refused to tell Grant, or anyone, what was going on. Secrets like this are what get people killed.”
“Sounds like personal experience.”
Ben didn’t confirm or deny. “Tommy Locan wronged you. If it was me, I can’t say I’d walk away.”
“She’s pregnant.” Was there anything else to be said? Sam ran his hands through his short hair. “She’s been all about doing the right thing by her parents for so long it’s dictated our whole lives. Now she’s still doing it, and I’m aligning my life to fit in yet again.”
“She didn’t know this would happen. Maybe she knew it was big and important, but you can’t think Beth would put a child in danger like this. Not if she’d known.”
“I know that. I don’t need a pep talk.”
His life with Beth wasn’t anything like he’d expected, but he wasn’t completely unhappy. Sam just didn’t think “normal” was their thing. Whatever their life together would look like, he’d discover what it was when they got there.
Ben said, “You’re right. What you need to do is lose the anger before you get to her. Then you find whatever it is that gets you to focus, and you hold that position until this is done. She won’t tell you anything if she thinks you’re not a hundred percent prepared to stand by her. She’s facing off against the whole world right now, just like you.”
“Thought I said I didn’t need a pep talk.”
Ben barked a laugh. “I read your file. If you’re good with a small plane, then we’re set. You’ll have a decoy, just in case, and Grant will meet you when you refuel. He’ll give you the coordinates to get to Sanctuary.”
Sam grabbed the backpack with his grandfather’s things inside and picked up the suitcase. “Like I said, I’m set to go.”
Ben had a bizarre, devils-advocate way of helping, but it wasn’t ineffective. Sam felt better, and a whole lot more focused. He’d have his day with Tommy, but Beth was more important right now.
John wanted him to play along and catch this fake Abigail doing whatever she had planned. Sam wasn’t so sold on it. One wrong move on her part, and she was done walking free.
**
After hours in a small aircraft, followed by a full night of driving another rusty pick-up—apparently Ben had a fleet of them stashed around the country—Sam turned into the driveway of a Montana cattle ranch. An old Cessna was parked on an airstrip, its shadow stretched long on the surrounding grass by the rising Sunday sun. The farmhouse was dark and quiet, and a bland car was parked out front.
A man in a suit stood by the plane. Grant, Sam realized as he drove closer. The director of the Marshals paced, talking on his phone. His gray hair looked more pronounced in person, and Sam realized the man was older than he’d thought. Maybe even in his fifties. The eldest Mason brother held himself with authority and more self-assurance than Sam had seen in a lot of higher-ups in the Navy—men who forced their rank on others, assuming respect could be demanded instead of earned.
Sam parked the truck and stretched out the ache in his leg.
Grant waved him over, still talking on his phone. “Yes, sir, I understand that. I did pass on my condolences. Yes, Mr. President.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. Grant saw it and rolled his eyes, smiling.
“Yes, sir. Beth Myerson’s safety is my number one priority. No, sir.” Grant hung up.
He stuck his hand out, so Sam snagged it in his and they shook. “Sounds like President Gunderson is giving you grief.”
“He wants me to give up Beth’s location and transfer her to a military base so she can be properly guarded.”
Sam almost preferred that. His regard for the military had a lot to do with that. In this instance, though, he’d probably be unable to go with her given everyone thought he was dead.
“You want me to start the process?”
Sam shook his head. “I want her where I am. You send her outside Sanctuary and we’re both at risk.”
“That’s what I explained to the president. She’s safer not being moved. The minute we get her in transit her odds of being taken out increase exponentially, regardless of how safe she might be when she arrives wherever we send her.”
“Agreed.” Sam nodded. “Interesting guy, your brother Ben.”
Grant grinned. “He really is. He helps out anytime we ask, but I’m still not precisely sure what he does the rest of the time. I’ve learned not to ask.”
“The way he talks, it’s tough to nail down an actual opinion. He’s like a perpetual gray area.”
“That’s Ben.” Grant’s gaze drifted aside, and Sam let him have a moment with his personal thoughts. When he glanced back, Grant lifted his chin like he’d pushed away the thoughts crowding his head. “Ready to head out?”
Sam hauled his belongings to the plane, and Grant gave him a folded paper—a map with handwritten co-ordinates.
Sam surveyed the airstrip—rutted gravel where planes had taken off and landed before. The home beyond was a modest yellow farmhouse someone clearly took pride in. “Do I want to know whose house this is?”
“Belongs to a friend of mine.”
“Bet you have a lot of friends.”
Grant stuck his hand out again, and Sam shook it. “Daire has the decoy plane. You may see him; you may not. He should keep any heat off your tail, given his flight plan could be construed as you travelling, while you’re simply a ranch hand headed to see his brother.” He smiled. “I spoke with John this morning. Hal had Beth help him in the radio station last night. It gave John enough time to set up surveillance around her house so that when she got home she was covered for the night. And he let her keep her gun.”
“She’s a pretty good shot,” Sam said. “What’s your take on this sniper?”
“I’m not convinced he killed President Sheraton.”
“Any idea who it is?” Sam figured Grant knew more than he was saying, but whether he shared it was a different story. He’d sent every resident of Sanctuary to the town. He had to have an idea why Beth was there, and not just her cover story. Or was Grant just as in-the-dark as the rest of them where she was concerned?
“There are indications he was trained and trained well. I’m thinking either ex-special forces or even current military. I have my people running a search on service members, past and present, or even someone who was rejected. I’ll keep you posted on what turns up.”
Sam climbed in and prepped to take off. By the time he was in the ai
r, he’d reasoned out what didn’t add up about Grant’s statement.
Grant’s answer gave him just enough to make him think the director was actively looking for the sniper, but it was still vague enough to make Sam wonder if Grant didn’t already have a decent idea of whom the man was.
Sam pointed the plane toward central Idaho, willing the craft to move faster.
**
The first of two men sitting in the back of a pickup truck on the side of a Montana highway pulled out his phone. It rang twice, and the chairman picked up.
“Yes?”
“We’re in position, sir.” The rocket launcher was loaded and ready to be fired. The plane had already come into view in the cloudy sky. Their window would snap closed fast, this had to be done now.
“You have my permission to execute.”
“Yes, sir.”
The chairman hung up.
“He said go.”
The second man nodded. “Okay, then.” He rubbed his hands on his pant legs, working his mouth back and forth. “Guess it’s time.”
Before he could change his mind, the first man lined up the shot and fired. The projectile flew through the air faster than his eye could track it and sailed toward the airplane with deadly accuracy.
He held his breath until it collided in a ball of flames, and the plane tumbled to the earth.
“Let’s get rid of this thing and get out of here.”
Chapter 7
John set his coffee down and dialed Ben’s number. At least his receptionist—who doubled as the town dispatcher—wouldn’t be in this morning. Dottie was a former FBI “double agent,” a bureau secretary who’d married her special agent boss. The woman was insatiable in her curiosity, but he’d never had more competent staff, even in the Marshals.
“Yeah, Johnny.” Ben had only called him that a few times, mostly when they’d been kids.
“Any word on the lieutenant?”
“He’s an hour out, but the bait was taken on the decoy. Daire’s plane was shot down.”
Sanctuary Breached WITSEC Town Series Book 3 Page 7