“It’ll be fun in a safe, standoff distance kind of way.”
“In other words, no fun at all.”
“That’s right, Staff Sergeant,” said Quinn. “Daddy’s not letting the kids ride bikes without helmets today.”
“Now, that’s crazy talk, sir,” said Cantrell. “Base police will give your ass a ticket for riding without a helmet.”
“Smart-ass. Put together your extraction team and find a spare uniform. Size small. I want her looking like any other female Marine on base. Don’t forget to put her hair in a bun when you move her out of the barracks.”
“How about we make her look like one of the guys?” asked Cantrell. “We could shave her head and pencil in a nice lance corporal mustache.”
Quinn grinned. “You’ll want to put the battalion aid station on standby to receive Marines with severe testicle damage before you try to shave that head.”
“Female Marine sounds good to me,” said the staff sergeant. “Where we taking her?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
CHAPTER 61
Nick Leeds watched the door that had swallowed David Quinn forty minutes earlier. Base security had arrived in force an hour before Quinn’s arrival, sweeping through the battalion areas escorted by senior Marines from the battalion. Plainclothes investigators, most likely assigned to the provost marshal’s criminal investigation division, entered the headquarters building at the same time, and as far as he could tell, hadn’t departed. If base security detained Quinn, Leeds’s job would get complicated.
Extracting Quinn from the provost marshal’s custody was not an option, and without Quinn, they had little chance of finding Fisher—without a serious slip in communications security protocol. Based on the group’s comsec discipline to this point, Leeds had no intention of waiting for them to make a mistake. It could be a long wait.
They still had a decent chance of finding Quinn’s wife, but he wasn’t sure that would bring them any closer to their objective. He doubted Quinn would have told her much about Fisher. The good captain played this game too well for that, and he was too smart to think they would spare his wife if she shared information. Leeds had to give the captain credit. The Marine was in way over his head, but he was holding up well—for now.
If passive surveillance efforts didn’t yield results by tomorrow morning, Leeds would seriously consider more active measures. Flagg wanted results, and the longer this dragged out, the more pressure he’d expect his boss would apply. Shit rolled downhill, and Flagg was no doubt feeling the pressure himself.
Three tan AL-TAC vehicles appeared at the far corner of the building, on the narrow service road connecting the back of the battalion area to one of the main roads dissecting the camp. The squat, heavily armored tactical vehicles picked up speed, heading toward the door used by Quinn. Leeds shifted his binoculars, examining the fast-moving convoy. A compact light bar ran across the top of the vehicles, identifying them as base security. They were coming for Quinn. Shit.
A second convoy followed the first around the corner, giving him doubts about that assessment. Six vehicles converging on one door seemed like overkill. When both convoys raced past Quinn’s door and screeched into a hard left on Fourth Street, he knew exactly what was happening. They were headed straight for the Cluster B barracks.
“Quinn, you son of a bitch,” he muttered, triggering his communications rig. “All units, this is Leeds. We’ve been made. Abandon your vehicles immediately and do your best to blend. Move to pickup points.”
“This is Delta,” said one of the operatives situated on the northwest side of the barracks. “Too late for E and E. Two unmarked sedans just blocked me in.”
“Copy that,” said Leeds. “Do not attempt to engage or escape. Let them take you into custody.”
“Fuck,” hissed another voice. “Charlie team reports the same problem. Damn it!”
“Stay calm and cooperate,” said Leeds, watching the AL-TACs bear down on the parking lot south of the barracks. “Alpha and Bravo, you have about ten seconds to clear out of the parking lot. Head west.”
“Already on the move,” replied one of his operatives. “Shit. Two Growlers with mounted MGs just blocked the western exit. Do we have time to evade east?”
Leeds lowered the binoculars and shook his head. The east exit would be blocked in seconds. “Negative. Alpha and Bravo, stand down where you are. I have six AL-TACs inbound from the east in a few seconds.”
“Roger that,” said the operative. “Here they come.”
“All units, gas your comms and hang tight. We’ll send a legal representative to get you out of this within the hour,” said Leeds. “Echo, you still clear?” He’d positioned Echo team in the parking lot serving the small cluster of restaurants at the eastern end of Camp San Mateo.
“This is Echo. We’re good so far. You want us to hit the road?”
“Affirmative. Head to Camp San Onofre. Switch to secondary encrypted network and wait for instructions.”
“We’re on the move,” said the team leader. “Switching to secondary network.”
Leeds put his SUV in reverse and backed out of the parking space, half expecting to see the opposite ends of the lot blocked by tactical vehicles. Seeing nothing headed in his direction, he slipped out of the parking lot and made his way to San Mateo Drive, turning west. He’d drive to the northernmost base gate a few miles away and leave Camp Pendleton. Flagg would certainly drop him from the operation if he were taken into custody.
Tactical operatives could be swapped back and forth from other jobs, but his position wasn’t easily replaced. Not to mention the fact that his job was too high profile to risk apprehension. A Cerberus legal team would have him back on the streets within a few hours, but his cover would be burned. He’d end up in a low-visibility operations position at corporate headquarters—if he were lucky. Given the series of bumps he’d experienced over the past forty-eight hours, he wasn’t willing to test that luck.
CHAPTER 62
Quinn pressed the headset against his ear, straining to hear what Cantrell was saying to his team. They had moved into position at his wife’s barracks building, ahead of the provost marshal’s deployment to the parking lots. Once the Cerberus surveillance teams had been cornered by base security, Cantrell’s crew would head for the third floor and wait for him to contact his wife. Alison Quinn had instructions to shoot anyone accessing the room without advance warning from David.
“Captain, the surveillance team visible from your wife’s room just took off. Hold on,” said Cantrell. “They stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Looks like our guys parked the Growlers on the west end just in time. Base security has it under control. We’re heading up.”
“Any sign of resistance from the surveillance teams?”
“Not that I can see,” said Cantrell. “The guy in the passenger seat of the gray SUV has his hands on the dashboard. Looks like a clean bust to me.”
He figured the Cerberus teams wouldn’t put up a fight against base security. The entire base would go into complete lockdown if that happened, completely undermining their mission. It might still go into lockdown if the men are armed, though he somehow doubted they were carrying firearms. Any weapons they planned to use, if they found Fisher, would be stashed out of sight somewhere nearby. This group didn’t make mistakes, from what he could tell.
“Good deal. I’m calling Alison now,” he said, picking up the office phone and dialing her backup burner phone.
“Major Woody,” she answered.
“Sorry, I was trying to reach Private Parts,” he replied, completing the ridiculous code.
“Get me out of this room, honey,” she said. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“I have four Marines headed to your room right now. Do exactly what they say. I’ll meet you a little later.”
“What about the people watching me?”
“I just took care of the surveillance teams,” he said. “Base security should
be hauling them off.”
“So we’re good?”
“We’re good,” said Quinn. “We identified all of the teams watching your building. That phone call this morning drew them right to you.”
“Where am I going?”
“I can’t answer that on the phone, but you’ll be safe there, as long as you don’t use your phone again.”
“When will you be here?”
“I can’t answer that either,” he said. “You’ll be fine. The Marines headed to your room will give you the details. You’ll recognize one of them right away. Do exactly what they say. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said, replacing the handset.
He’d be able to talk to her in a few minutes over the encrypted squad radio network transmitted into his headset. Until then, he needed to grab a few controlled items from the company supply clerk. He tucked the squad Motorola radio and wireless headset into one of his cargo pockets and opened the door leading into the platoon area. Lieutenant Colonel Smith stood squarely in his way, and he didn’t look surprised to see Quinn.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” asked his commanding officer, staring at him impassively.
“No, sir,” replied Quinn, a bit stunned to think of a different reply.
“Good, because we’ve had quite an afternoon here,” said Smith, stepping into the room.
Quinn backed out of his way, wondering if he might be better off running for the back door. His tenure on base was rapidly coming to an end, either in the provost marshal’s brig or at the end of a Cerberus gun barrel. He didn’t feel like he had much to lose. Smith closed the door and locked it, which struck Quinn as odd, and kept him from bolting into the parking lot. He searched for words but came up empty.
“What’s going on?” asked Smith. “And don’t bullshit me. I just spent a good part of my already busy afternoon talking about you with CID investigators, followed by a bizarre call from God himself singing your praise.”
“Sir?”
“Major General Nichols and I spoke at length about you—or rather, I listened to my commanding general speak about you. Apparently, your father served with the general back in the day and left a lasting impression on him. An impression I have been asked to extend to you. So tell me what’s happening, and spare no details. You already have your get-out-of-jail-free card—from me.”
Quinn explained everything, from agreeing to run a few burner phones down to Nathan Fisher to using Cantrell’s platoon to identify the surveillance teams looking for his wife. Lieutenant Colonel Smith’s battle-scarred face betrayed little while Quinn told the story, and even less when he finished.
“The general does not want to get involved in the conspiracy aspect of this,” said Smith. “We have enough problems as it is with the secession issue. Maybe this Fisher guy is telling the truth, maybe not. That’s not for First Marine Division to decide. Fisher and his family have to go. Sounds harsh, and maybe it is, but you brought him to the wrong place.”
“Fisher has nowhere else to go,” said Quinn. “Everyone is looking for him now. They’ll kill him on the outside.”
“Sounds like they’ll kill him on the inside, too, quite possibly taking a few of my Marines down with him. I can’t have that,” said Smith. “If there’s any speck of truth to what your dad told the commanding general, and I suspect there is, this group isn’t going to slink back on base tomorrow and resume passive surveillance techniques. You know how this works.”
“I do, sir. That’s why I can’t abandon them. He has an eleven-year-old son. They’ll kill him, too. And his wife. And my wife. They’ll kill us all,” said Quinn. “I don’t see any way out of this.”
“NCIS?” asked Smith, showing the faintest look of concern. “The FBI?”
“They won’t believe Fisher, or me, at face value,” said Quinn. “And I’m sure they won’t be willing to spirit us away to some top-secret, secure location. Even if they did—we wouldn’t be safe.”
“You’re sounding paranoid.”
“So far, that’s been the key to survival against this Cerberus thing,” said Quinn. “Our only chance is to go off the grid completely.”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know, sir, but it’ll give us time to come up with a better plan than this,” said Quinn. “Bringing Fisher to Pendleton was my best option at the time.”
Smith rubbed his face before shaking his head slowly. “Do you really think this is the end of the line for you? Even if I delivered Fisher to the provost marshal right now and we buried the fact that you brought him on base?”
“I can’t picture any scenario in which Cerberus leaves me alone, Colonel. So yes, I think this is the end of the line for me.” Quinn glanced at his watch. “Maybe I can get off base with Fisher during the after-work rush today. Any chance you might be interested in trading your car for my wife’s Jeep Wrangler? It comes gently used, with a free tracking device.”
Smith cracked a thin smile. “I have a better idea. Well, General Nichols had a better idea,” said Smith. “He thinks a small group from Second Battalion, Fourth Marines, should arrive in Yuma a few days ahead of the division liaison team. To make sure everything is in order—logistically. I’m putting you in charge of this.”
“Sir, I don’t think—when does this leave?” asked Quinn, hoping he wasn’t misreading what Smith had said.
“Tomorrow night. You pick the time—and the team,” said Smith, emphasizing the last part.
“What type of vehicles, sir? And how many?”
“Four AL-TACs,” said Smith. “Full turret configuration. It gets a little dicey on the stretch of Interstate 8 between El Centro and Yuma. A number of regular convoys have been harassed by heavily armed banditos. The Mexican border is a few miles away for most of that stretch. The state police and the Border Patrol have stopped patrolling the area at night, so nobody travels between El Centro and Yuma after dark. You’ll have the road to yourself.”
“We’ll be careful,” said Quinn. “Thank you, sir. You didn’t have to do this.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank your dad,” said Smith. “And yes, I did have to do this. You did the right thing for that family. I’m doing the right thing for you.”
Quinn stared at him, cocking his head. “This wasn’t the general’s idea?” he said.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Smith. “I have his full faith and confidence. Like you have mine. Get this Fisher character and his family to safety, and do the same for you and Alison. I’m authorizing open-ended emergency leave for you. You’re on your own when you reach Yuma.”
“Copy that, sir. What about CID?”
“We’ll keep the motor transport compound gate shut during the day, in response to whatever is going on outside right now. You’ll have some advance notice if CID returns to sniff around. Lots of nooks and crannies to conceal a Marine captain in that repair garage. I suggest you stay there until the convoy is ready to roll.”
Smith reached behind his back and produced a satphone. Quinn recognized the device immediately. Beautiful.
“General Nichols said you could use one of these,” said Smith, handing over a DTCS-encrypted satphone and charger. “This is the military satellite version. Dumbed down for grunts, so you should be able to work it without the instruction manual.”
Quinn was speechless.
“What’s your next move?” asked Smith.
“I’d rather not say, sir. It doesn’t directly involve any of the Marines, but I don’t think you’d approve.”
“Be careful,” said the colonel. “You have your ticket out.”
“Always careful.”
“Uh-huh,” said Smith, unlocking the door and disappearing.
Quinn pulled the radio out of his pocket and fastened the headset, immediately hearing his wife’s voice.
“David, where the hell are you?” she said.
He activated the voice-activated transmit feature, turning the wireless headset into a hands-free system. “I’m back in
the platoon area. Where are you?”
“Headed to the Motor T cage with one of your staff sergeants. Base security had those assholes in handcuffs,” said Alison. “So we’re good now?”
“We can’t stay here. They’ll keep coming after us.”
“Stay here on base, or stay here in California?”
“Both,” said Quinn. “I figured out how to get us out of the state without anyone knowing, but I need to hide you until tomorrow night.”
“I’m not spending another night trapped in one of these rooms.”
“I have something different in mind,” said Quinn. “I’m going to drop you off with Fisher and his family.”
“I’ll take my chances at the barracks.”
“That’s not an option anymore,” he said. “Not after your close call today. You can rough it for a night.”
“I’m not worried about roughing it. I’m worried about Fisher,” she said. “The police say he might be linked to a second murder.”
“They probably found one of the operatives’ bodies at the house. Maybe Cerberus didn’t clean up all of their dead.”
“No. Not at his house. Something about an engineer that works at the Del Mar Triad Station. They think it might be related to the reactor shutdown.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Quinn. “Sorry, honey, but I guarantee he’s been framed. He saw something they didn’t want him to see.”
“When will I see you?”
“In a few hours,” said Quinn. “I’ll bring you pizza.”
“Extra cheese, please.”
“I like pepperoni,” said Cantrell over the radio net.
“Good, Staff Sergeant, because I need you to pick it up,” said Quinn. “It’s not safe for me to drive around.”
“How the hell is that you bringing the pizza?”
“It was my idea,” said Quinn.
“You’re paying,” replied Cantrell.
“Least I can do, Staff Sergeant,” said Quinn. “Honey, I’ll see you in a few hours. Love you.”
“Love you more,” she said. “Be careful.”
Fractured State (Fractured State Series Book 1) Page 26