by Jude Hardin
“What else did Nicholson say?”
“He said that a couple of government agents were sent to Sycamore Bluff to check out the incident. He didn’t know anything about them or their agency, but he knew their names. The names they were going by, anyway, which of course were probably fake.”
“What were their names?”
“John and Karen,” Stedman said. “Middleton, or Millington, or something like that. Mo was having a little trouble enunciating at the time. It sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles, like maybe someone had busted his teeth out or something. He said Davidson had come up with a plan on how to get rid of these agents, and that they were, in fact, dead now, that he himself had killed them. He said he’d planted a bomb under their bed and detonated it remotely.”
Incredible, Lenny thought. Maybe there was a chance that this would all work out after all. “Do we know for a fact that these agents are dead?” he said.
“Well, that’s the thing. That’s what Mo said at first, that they were dead. But while we were talking, he saw something on one of the monitor screens. He saw a man and a woman outside, walking up Otter Creek Road toward Main Street. He didn’t know how the agents could have escaped the explosion, but he also didn’t know why anyone would be taking a stroll at midnight in the freezing cold.”
“Nobody would be,” Lenny said. “Unless they had a specific purpose in mind.”
Unless they were on some kind of mission, Lenny thought. The couple out walking in the cold must have been the pair of government agents Nicholson had told Stedman about. Karen and John. It must have been them. That was the only explanation that made any sense. Dave had put a contract out on them. He’d tried to assassinate them, and he had failed. Good intentions, poor execution. Now they were probably on their way to the radio room to call their superiors. If that happened, Lenny was through. If those agents got the word out that someone in Sycamore Bluff was trying to kill them, it was all over but the crying. Lenny would be on the bullet train to bankruptcy court, and maybe even prison.
“Is there any way we can get someone to Sycamore Bluff tonight?” Lenny said.
“What did you have in mind?”
“First of all, I need to get rid of those agents before they’re able to call for help. Then, we’ll need to destroy The Factory. Blow it up or something. We can’t leave one shred of evidence behind. But those government agents are my top priority right now. If they make it to the radio, nothing else is going to matter.”
“Based on what Nicholson told me, the couple out walking in the cold were only about forty-five minutes from Town Hall. And that was twenty minutes ago. So—”
“So we have twenty-five minutes to fly someone in there to kill them,” Lenny said, feeling a surge of acid in the pit of his stomach.
“Yeah,” Stedman said. “Not going to happen. Even if we had someone on the payroll who did that kind of thing, which we don’t. But here’s the good news: seems like the radio is dead anyway. So they won’t be able to contact anyone from the outside until the next supply helicopter flies in.”
“And when will that be?”
“Tuesday morning at nine o’clock.”
Lenny looked at his watch. It was Monday, 12:31 a.m. Well over twenty-four hours until the next copter was due to land in Sycamore Bluff.
Good.
“That should give us plenty of time,” Lenny said.
“Yeah. If you can find someone on such short notice, someone willing to do what needs to be done.”
“I have someone in mind. Call if anything else comes up.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Call me,” Lenny said. “Not Davidson.”
“So we’re changing the protocol?” Stedman said.
“That’s right. As of now, consider it changed.”
Lenny disconnected. He thumbed through his contact list, found the number he was looking for, and pushed the call button.
The Unnamed Man with Connections answered on the fourth ring.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Diana caught up with Colt and tried to fall into stride beside him. He was walking fast, and she could barely keep up without breaking into a trot. The tips of her toes were numb, and every time the bottom of her feet hit the pavement it felt as though she were stepping onto a bed of nails.
“You’re mad at me?” she said.
“No, of course not,” Colt said.
But there was more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Sorry. Really. I’m dealing with some things right now, and—”
“What things? What things could you possibly be dealing with that would cause you to talk to me the way you did back there? This ain’t my first rodeo, babe. You know? I’m not some greenhorn recruit you can just kick around any old way. And didn’t we already have this conversation once before? Well? So what things, Di? I’d really like to know.”
“I shot a fellow operative,” she said.
Colt slowed down. He never stopped walking altogether, but his pace changed from full steam ahead to a contemplative stroll.
“What?” he said.
Diana felt tears welling in her eyes, and it wasn’t just from the cold. The emotion was genuine.
“It’s true,” she said, her voice quivering slightly now. “I didn’t want to, but I had no choice.”
“No choice. That’s tough. How does that even happen?”
“Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Probably not, but I have a feeling I’m going to anyway. Was this a friend of yours or something?”
“Yes. A very good friend. We were working together on an assignment a couple of months ago. We were monitoring a group called the Citizen’s Initiative Against Oppression. CIAO for short. They have cells all over the country, but the one we were watching is more organized than most. You know the type. Right wing extremists with lots of guns and lots of conspiracy theories. They believe—and I mean really believe—that the government was behind everything from the Kennedy assassination to nine-eleven to the murders in Newtown, Connecticut. Black Ops helicopters, nano-bots in flu shots, the whole nine yards. They have websites and blogs and they spew all that nonsense all over the Internet, and you wouldn’t believe the number of followers they get.”
“I would believe it,” Colt said. “I was instrumental in exposing a religious cult with an organized militia, remember? They thought they were going to usher in Armageddon.”
“Of course I remember. Absolutely. You did some very nice investigative work. That was one of the reasons I recruited you for The Circle. So anyway, we were monitoring this group called CIAO, and we’d been at it for over a year. And, to be honest, we’d started seeing each other socially as well.”
“Ah,” Colt said. “The plot thickens.”
“His name was Henry Parker. The way it was set up, we rotated days, and we’d started working every Sunday together. Long story short, he got captured and I was sent in to get some video and rescue him if possible.”
“If possible?” Colt said. “Why wouldn’t it have been possible? Why didn’t they send a whole posse in there and wipe those idiots out?”
“Sure. It would have been just like Waco. That’s just not the way The Circle works. We avoid the risk of exposure at all costs. Maintaining the lowest of profiles is the only way we’re able to do what we do. If the general public ever found out what really goes on behind the scenes, there would be widespread panic and distrust, and—”
“Okay. I get it. I know all that. So really, the conspiracy theorists have a point, don’t they? The government really is hiding things from them. Like this town, for example. Like what we’re doing now.”
“True,” Diana said. “But we’re not hiding the things they think we’re hiding. We aren’t performing autopsies on extraterrestrial aliens, for example. The secrets being kept are in the interest of national security, mostly, and in the interest of the populous as a whole—their overall wellbeing and peace of mind. And when you get d
own to it, isn’t that what our government should be doing?”
“Sure,” Colt said. “Ignorance is bliss. So what happened with this Henry Parker guy?”
“Well, they had started to torture him, and it got to a point where he must have thought they were going to kill him for sure. He started telling them everything about The Circle, knowing that an operative was probably listening in by that time, knowing that the operative would be forced to execute him for treason.”
“So he basically committed suicide,” Colt said.
“Right. And he knew that the operative assigned to provide reconnaissance would also kill the goons torturing him, because he’d told them about The Circle. Henry knew he was going to die anyway, so it was his way of taking a couple of bad guys with him.”
“So you shot him? You executed a United States citizen with absolutely no due process? Don’t you think that’s just a wee bit unconstitutional?”
“Wake up, Nicholas. The Circle operates by its own set of rules. You know that. If we were forced to abide by the constitution, we wouldn’t be able to do half the things we do. I did it. I killed Henry, and I killed the two CIAO officers who had been interrogating him. I did everything by the book, but then I started wondering if I could have done something differently. I started second guessing myself, wondering if I could have saved Henry somehow.”
Colt was silent for a few beats. He started walking a little faster again, and then he said, “Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, but it seems to me you could have shot the two CIAO officers and then led Henry out of there. You could have ditched the video camera somewhere, claimed that you lost it, and the two of you could have kept your lips sealed about Henry’s treasonous statements. Nobody ever would have known.”
“But I would have known,” Diana said. “And eventually, The Director might have found out. And if The Director found out, I would have been executed for treason right alongside Henry Parker.”
“You didn’t trust the guy to keep his mouth shut?”
“I loved him. I wanted to trust him, but—”
“Look, you did what you thought you had to do at the time. But rules were meant to be broken, Di. And that’s pretty much all I have to say about that.”
“You know what I’m starting to think? You know what’s really eating me up inside? I’m starting to think that maybe, on a subconscious level, I was worried about The Director discovering my secret love affair with another operative. Maybe I thought it was only a matter of time until Henry and I got caught. Maybe I killed Henry not only because it was my sworn duty, but because it was a convenient way to—”
Diana lost it then. She stopped walking and stood there in the middle of the road with her face buried in her gloved hands.
Nicholas came to her and put his arms around her.
“You followed protocol,” he said. “And there’s no shame in that. It’s what you were trained to do. If there’s a lesson here, it’s to never get personally involved with a fellow operative. I’ll try to remember that one myself from now on.”
Diana pulled away. She wiped her face with the cuffs of her pea coat.
“This is embarrassing,” she said. “I’m a professional. I shouldn’t be breaking down in the middle of an assignment like this. Come on. Let’s just keep walking before we stand here and freeze to death.”
They continued on at a steady clip, but Colt never returned to the breakneck pace he’d been maintaining before. He never started walking too fast for Diana to keep up.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
Diana looked at her watch. 00:51. Nine minutes till one a.m. She could see the traffic lights ahead on Main Street. They were probably about ten minutes from Town Hall now, fifteen at the most.
Colt broke the silence: “What was in that envelope I gave you back there?” he said.
“Do you care?”
“Not really. Just trying to make conversation.”
“It’s a letter, telling us that we need to stop by The Pharmacy and pick up our vitamins.”
“Vitamins?”
“Yeah. Some kind of special formula the boys at NASA whipped up for the experiment. All the residents are required to take them. It’s part of the program. The Director told me all about it in the detailed briefing he gave me.”
“Cool. I guess you need a special supplement if you’re going to live on Mars for six years. Back in the day, all they gave space travelers was a jar of Tang.”
“Tang?”
“It was a neon orange powder that you mixed with water. It was kind of like pre-sweetened Kool-Aid, but it was supposed to be good for you. I think they might even still make the stuff. They gave the astronauts that, and they gave them some toothpaste tubes filled with Soylent Green.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Diana said, her mood starting to lighten some now.
“Soylent Green. Yeah. They made a movie about it. A documentary. Talk about your government conspiracies.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re pulling my leg?”
“Seriously,” Colt said. “But I won’t say any more. You might want to see the film someday, and I wouldn’t want to spoil the ending.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
They walked on.
“I have a joke,” Diana said.
“Let’s hear your joke.”
“I sat on a hamburger bun, and then I did it again. And again. Someone told me to stop, but I was on a roll.”
Colt chuckled politely. “That’s pretty good,” he said.
“I made it up myself.”
“Clever. You know, I could go for a hamburger about now.”
“We never got to try The Diner,” Diana said. “Too bad.”
“Yeah. Maybe we can come back someday. Just for a burger and a milkshake. Or maybe we should just cherish the memory of this place. Like Paris in the movie Casablanca. We’ll always have Sycamore Bluff.”
“Or maybe we should just try to forget it.”
A gust of wind swirled along the sidewalk, making tiny cyclones in the dust. Diana figured the temperature was below zero now. She put her head down and trudged onward.
“We’re almost there,” Colt said. “I’ll be glad just to get inside for a few minutes. I’m freezing.”
“Me too.”
“You think they have a coffeemaker in that Town Hall building?”
“I don’t know,” Diana said. “Probably. Coffee sounds good. Or some hot chocolate.”
“Yeah. So how are you doing? Feeling any better?”
“Oh, I’m a mess. I should have stayed on administrative leave a while longer. The Director tried to talk me into it, but I was determined to climb back on that bull and ride. To borrow your rodeo metaphor.”
“You don’t have to borrow it,” Colt said. “You can have it. Yippy-ki-yay. So what’s on your agenda after Sycamore Bluff? Hopefully, we’ll be going home sometime this morning.”
“I really have no business being out in the field right now. I’m going to take a break. Maybe permanently.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. If you didn’t do this, what would you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“And besides, I thought The Circle was for life. Kind of like the mafia. Once in, never out. It’s implied in the contract. You can’t just quit, can you?”
“It’s not easy to quit,” Diana said. “But there is a way.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It involves going in front of a panel of judges and pleading your case. If your resignation is approved, they assign you to the Government Witness Protection Program, and that’s it. You’re given a brand new identity, and you’re monitored closely for the rest of your life.”
“And if your resignation is not approved?” Colt said.
“They kill you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sergio Del Chivo lived in a very fine house on a very fine property in the tiny Central American country
of El Salvador. Del Chivo’s very fine property included an infinity pool that looked over the Pacific Ocean. Señor Del Chivo was lounging beside this pool with a very fine bottle of tequila and three very fine señoritas at one o’clock Monday morning when his cell phone trilled.
The caller ID said Loco. It was one of Del Chivo’s top lieutenants in the United States, the one the gringos referred to as The Unnamed Man with Connections. They called him that because that was what he wanted to be called. It was the title he operated under. Nobody knew his real name. He was as close to anonymous as a human being could possibly be in the twenty-first century.
Del Chivo called him Loco, because he was crazy as a bat. Verifiably insane. He would do anything for money. He once chopped a man’s arm off, used it for shark bait, and then cooked the shark and fed it to the man before killing him. Sometimes, he did not even need money. Sometimes, he did things such as that just for fun. He was loony. Off his rocker. Kooky. Wacky. Bonkers. He had a screw loose.
Loco.
The Unnamed Man with Connections was mad as a hatter, but he had a good sense of humor. He didn’t seem to mind Del Chivo’s little nickname. The two men had been friends and business partners for a long time.
Del Chivo was in a very good mood at one o’clock Monday morning. It was seventy-eight degrees outside, with a slight breeze coming off the ocean, and the sky was clear and full of twinkling stars. The moon was white and fat. It seemed close, as though you might be able to reach out and touch it. Del Chivo had a belly full of tequila, and soon he would escort the three very fine señoritas to his bedroom for a very fine time. A very fine time indeed.
He answered the phone. “Buenos noches, mi amigo,” he said.
“No hablo Espanol,” Loco said.
Del Chivo laughed. “Very well, my friend. We will converse in French instead then.”
“Merci.”
Del Chivo laughed again. “How are you, Señor Loco? Como esta, cabron?”
Del Chivo used the word cabron in a playful and teasing manner. It was Spanish slang for an irritating, ridiculous person, but with Loco it was always said in the spirit of brotherhood. And Loco, The Unnamed Man with Connections, always took it in the good natured way it was meant.