by L. T. Ryan
He glanced over my shoulder and lifted an eyebrow while nodding once.
The waitress stopped next to me, a brown tray perched on her hand and shoulder. She expertly balanced it while setting our plates down in front of us, muttering each order under breath. In a thick, East Carolina accent she asked, “Can I get y’all anything else?”
We shook our heads in unison and waited for her to leave before speaking.
“What else?” I asked.
Abbot looked up at me with his mouth slightly open like he wanted to say something else but was holding back.
“I know there’s something else, Abbot. What is it?”
He placed his fork and knife on the edge of his plate, sat back in the booth, folded his hands together and placed them on the table. He stared at me for what felt like ages before finally speaking.
“There’s the chance, Jack, that this could be coming down his chain of command. Understand?”
“You haven’t spoken to Delaney,” I said, not a question.
“No, I haven’t. So you need to know,” he lifted his hand and wagged an outstretched finger between me and Bear, “that this could go badly. Once he digs into it, if it’s his, uh, organization behind it, he’ll turn. He’s that kind of guy. Personal loyalties are superseded by the job.”
I nodded. I understood, in a sense. In another I didn’t. The job was just a job. There was a personal code of conduct that couldn’t be violated. You might be able to move the line now and then, but there had to be a point where the line couldn’t stretch any further without breaking. And when a friend needed help, that line was drawn thick and deep.
“Who does Neil work for?” Bear asked.
Abbot shook his head and looked down at his plate.
Bear looked from him to McDuffie. “You know?”
McDuffie hiked his shoulders and shook his head. “Never heard of him in my life. I’m a damn prison warden. I’ll leave the spy stuff to you guys.” He chuckled and then stuffed his mouth with a forkful of butter and syrup covered pancakes.
“That information is on a need to know basis,” Abbot said. “Right now—”
“Don’t tell us we don’t need to know,” I said. “At least give us this.”
Abbot said nothing. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned his head toward the window.
I sighed and shook my head. “OK, then. How’re we getting up there? Can’t travel on a plane right now. TSA will flag us.”
Abbot turned his head, pointed at the keys. “You’re taking my car.”
I reached out, picked the keys up off the table and stuck them in my pocket.
“But listen,” Abbot said. “It won’t be long before that car’s hot. Understand? Like I said, I don’t know who is watching and who’s not.”
I nodded.
“You see blue lights, you be ready to run, Jack.”
I nodded again.
We finished breakfast without saying another word, and then we walked out together. Bear and I collected our things from McDuffie’s car. Abbot walked us to his.
“Delaney,” Abbot said to me. “He’s a bit of a shifty character, Jack. But you can trust him.”
“As long as his agency isn’t behind this,” I added.
Abbot’s pursed his lips together and drew his eyebrows down. “Yeah.”
We stopped in front of Abbot’s car, a new silver Audi A8. I whistled and ran my finger along the sleek body of the car. “So this is what my dirty work pays for, eh?”
He stood behind the car and smiled while I opened the driver’s door and slid into the leather bucket seat. He moved forward and rapped on the window. I started the car and rolled the window down.
“Take it easy with her,” he said. “Please. Oh, and no smoking.”
I shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“Here,” he said. I looked over and saw him holding a billfold stuffed with cash and a few credit cards. “This should cover anything you need. Pin numbers are in the center. Commit them to memory. There’s a bag in the trunk, where the spare would normally be. Inside that bag is an assortment of weapons.” He paused and stared at me for a moment. “Don’t get caught with them.”
By the time I had the money in my pocket, Abbot was gone. I turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared approvingly. We pulled out of the parking lot and then hit the I-95 north on-ramp. I pushed the gas pedal and hit 85 miles per hour before we merged onto the interstate, then wove the car through traffic and into the fast lane.
Bear was the first to speak. “What’s your read on this?”
I thought for a moment. “Abbot’s not going to BS us.”
“You still trust him?”
“He got us out of the brig.” I glanced over at Bear. He rubbed at his beard. “If he wanted us out of the way, what better place than in there?”
I kept my eyes on the line of cars, SUVs and minivans in front of me. A mental inventory of license plates piled up and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I held my breath as we passed a parked state trooper and let my foot off the gas. I kept my eyes fixed on him in the rear-view mirror. He didn’t move. I felt a release of tension for the first time that morning.
“What about this Delaney guy?” Bear asked.
“We’ll have to get a read on him quick,” I said.
That much was true. We’d know within a few minutes of Delaney was friend or foe. A public meeting would be necessary.
“Make sure we meet him somewhere with a lot of witnesses,” Bear said.
“Reading my mind again?”
He laughed. “Guess I’ve known you too long.” The big man yawned, leaned back. “Think it’s time I get a new partner. You’re getting too boring.”
I smiled and looked up at the rear-view mirror. “Yeah, well you think this mess we’re in is boring?” I nodded toward the back of the car at the set of blue lights that closed the distance in a few seconds. The state trooper pulled his cruiser within a few feet of our rear bumper. The lane to the right was open, but he wasn’t passing. He must have clocked me going twenty over the speed limit. Or worse, Abbot could have reported the car stolen. Would he do that so quickly?
I cursed under my breath and moved into the right lane. The cruiser pulled over the same time I did. I hit the brakes and dropped the speed to fifty-five. Then I pulled onto the shoulder, prepared to stop. My mind raced thinking of the next set of actions I’d need to take.
Instead of following us onto the shoulder, the cruiser passed by.
Bear let out a loud sigh. “Thought we were goners.”
Chapter 8
The drive to D.C. took just under six hours. We took I-95 past the outer loop to I-395. Crossed the Potomac and drove into downtown. I found a parking garage near the National Mall on 11th Street. We left the car there and exited the garage onto 11th Street, turning left toward Pennsylvania Avenue.
I pointed at a store across the road. “We stand out. Let’s get some clothes.”
I found a brown leather jacket, t-shirt, and a pair of jeans. Bear donned a sweatshirt and cargo pants. We paid for the clothes and left the store.
“Grab some lunch?” Bear pointed at a pizza place across the street.
I pulled out the paper Abbot gave me with Neil Delaney’s number written on it.
“Yeah, let’s eat, and then I’ll call our contact.”
We sat at a table on the front patio. A black gate stretched out and separated the open air dining area from the sidewalk. Pedestrians walked by with their heads tilted back, noses in the air, taking in the smell of fresh baked pizza. A waitress with straight brown hair and very little makeup came to our table. We ordered a large cheese pizza and two beers. The air was cool and the smell of melted cheese, rising crust, and tomato sauce overwhelmed my senses. It felt like a perfect day. It would be a perfect day if it weren’t for the fact we were trying to save our lives.
Tourists, business people, and even politicians passed by. “Look,” Bear said. “Robert Marlowe. Seen him on the
news a lot over the last year. Deputy Secretary of Defense.”
I watched the group of men approach. Marlowe walked in between two other men. He wore a blue suit, red striped tie, and a tan London Fog overcoat. His hair was a mix of silver and black, thin on top. He was clean shaven and wore thin glasses. He was tall and looked to be in good shape for a man his age. The men on either side were approximately the same age. I figured them to be politicians as well. Two Department of Defense agents followed close behind. They were younger than the three politicians and wore dark suits, dark glasses, and earpieces, just like you see in the movies. They scanned the street and sidewalk. I figured time moved in slow motion for them. They were trained to notice everything and take out a threat at a moment’s notice.
“Wonder if he knows about us?” I said.
Bear smiled. “I could go ask.”
“Find out if he’d never heard about our program. Can you imagine what that investigation would uncover if he hadn’t?”
“Don’t want to,” Bear said shaking his head. He took a bite of thick crust, chewed on it for a moment, and then swallowed. “From what I gather,” he wiped his face with a napkin, “this guy is big on Iraq, us getting involved over there. So who knows, maybe he does know about us. Maybe he’s the reason we’re there.”
I watched the Deputy Secretary walk past us without batting an eye in our direction. One of the agents assigned to Marlowe appeared to take notice of me watching him. The agents gaze lingered on me longer than anyone or anything else he’d looked at. I glanced away, reaching into my inside coat pocket in an effort to give him something to think about. A moment later I looked up. They had kept walking and were fifty feet past our position. It looked like the agent had forgotten all about me. I knew looks could be deceiving, though.
The waitress dropped the bill on our table. I finished my beer and set the empty bottle on top of two twenty dollar bills so the breeze wouldn’t blow them away. We exited the patio, and joined the stream of people walking toward the National Mall. We turned right on Pennsylvania Avenue and crossed the road at 15th Street, near the White House. I cut through the grassy area between 15th Street and the Presidential Park to get away from the crowds. Groups of trees were spaced out along the lawn, offering shade from the bright sun above.
I stopped near a fountain, looking around to make sure no one was within ear shot. Once I was sure the area was reasonably secure, I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cell phone and the paper with Delaney’s number. My fingers punched the numbers on the keypad. I brought the phone to my head and heard the call connect.
A man answered on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, is this Neil Delaney?”
“Who’s this?”
“You don’t know me, but we have a friend in common.”
I looked over my shoulder and saw a couple walking hand in hand in my direction. I turned to the right and walked toward a tree.
“Who? Who’s the friend?”
“Colonel Abbot,” I said.
Delaney said nothing.
I looked around again, as if he were standing nearby. “You there?”
“How do you know Abbot?”
“He’s my CO.”
Delaney cleared his throat and continued in a hushed voice. “This isn’t a safe conversation to have on the phone.” He paused. “People are — uh, you know where the Lincoln Memorial is?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can find it.”
“OK, you do that. Meet me there in forty-five minutes. Got it? Can you get there by then?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Stand on Abe’s right side, fifth step from the top. Got it?”
“Right side facing him or his right side?”
Delaney sighed. “Facing. I got to go. Forty-five minutes. Be there. You got one shot.”
“What do you mean one—” The call disconnected before I could finish. I shook my head, and tried not to read too much into Delaney’s behavior. It was possible I caught him off guard and that’s why he acted the way he did. I pushed away from the tree and started walking toward the park, on the lookout for Bear.
He found me first.
“How’d it go?”
I put the phone back in my pocket and turned to face him. “He knew something, that much was obvious.” I looked past Bear, trying to figure out where he had been during the call. “The moment I said Abbot was my CO, Delaney freaked.”
Bear leaned his head back, looked up at the tree in bloom. “What do you mean, freaked?”
“Went silent. Started whispering.”
“Guess this won’t be a wasted trip then, will it.”
“We have to be at the Lincoln Memorial, forty-five minutes. Right side, fifth step from the top. He’ll find us.”
Bear pointed toward the Washington National Monument. “That’s at the far end, past the monument there.”
“Guess we should head over then.”
* * *
It took twenty minutes to reach the Lincoln Memorial, which meant we had twenty some odd minutes to hang back. This was a great place for people watching. Didn’t matter who they were, the Lincoln Memorial, of all places, had the ability to have a profound effect on its visitors.
I checked my watch and saw it was about time. “Let’s go.” We walked up three sets of stairs, staying to the right and stopped on the fifth step to the top. I leaned back against the handrail. An older woman gave me a look for blocking the railing, so I stepped to the side and let her pass.
“Wonder what this guy looks like,” Bear said.
“Look for a suit.”
“That’s about twenty percent of the crowd.”
“He’ll find us. Relax.”
“Like hell I will. You don’t know who he might bring with him.”
“Not by his tone, Bear.”
Bear said nothing.
I scanned the incoming crowd looking for the mental image I had of the man I had spoken with on the phone forty minutes ago. A few people had the look, but weren’t quite right. Then I spotted him.
“There,” I said, my arm outstretched pointing to the base of the stairs. He stuck out like a sore thumb among all the tourists. And being that it was past lunchtime, a Fed this close to the memorial just didn’t make sense.
“Who?”
“Silver and brown hair, a little thin on top, glasses. Kind of mousy looking, but in pretty good shape for his age.”
“Got him,” Bear said. “Tell you what,” he looked back at me, “I’m going to hang back a bit. OK?”
“Good idea.”
I kept my eyes focused on the middle aged man ascending the steps. He reached the middle of the longer stretch of sand colored stairs and looked up in my direction. He scanned the area and fixed his stare on me. He gave me a slight nod as he came to a stop.
I nodded back and checked the area around him, looking for any sign of a threat. I assumed he did the same.
He started in my direction again. He stopped two steps below me. He looked past me, said, “Neil Delaney.”
I grabbed his hand and shook it. “Noble.”
He nodded. “I’ve heard of you.”
“I can’t imagine that’s a good thing.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head.
“Big man back there is Bear. Riley Logan.”
Delaney looked over my shoulder and acknowledged Bear. Then he held out his arm and said, “Let’s move to the back.”
We walked up the remaining stairs, turned right and took a path that led us behind four huge columns, stopping behind the fourth. There, we huddled close together.
“Any place less public we can go?” I asked.
Delaney shook his head. “This is the best place. For now.” He looked over his shoulder. “Less chance something will go down here. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I said. Paused and then added, “I got it.”
“So you two are part of the operation, huh?”
I leaned back against the thick col
umn, crossed my arms over my chest and nodded. “What do you know about it?”
Delaney hiked his shoulders, cocked his head. “A bit. CIA sponsored. They take Marines out of basic—”
“Recruit training,” Bear interrupted.
“Yeah,” Delaney said. “Whatever. Take fresh recruits,” he looked at Bear and paused a second, “and then put them through their spec ops training. Turns you into well rounded operators that they can blame crap on when someone else screws up. You’re crazy enough for the job, ‘cause let’s face it, you wouldn’t have enlisted in the Marines unless you were crazy to begin with.” He smiled and batted his eyes between us.
We didn’t smile back.
“Yeah, well, anyway, so they get you before you’re done. Before you’ve been completely brainwashed into that bullshit oorah culture. That was one of their initial design flaws. The first group to come through had been through basic, uh, recruit training and A school. They were Marines and it caused problems when you had a dick of a spec ops team leader. They scrapped the first wave. You guys were part of the next bunch. They hit the jackpot with you two and the others that came through around the same time. From 95 through early 2001 you pretty much handled domestic stuff that the CIA couldn’t legally touch,” he waved his hand in a semi-circle for emphasis, “and occasionally a friendly nation. You always traveled two by four, two of you, four of them. You spent some time in South America. Columbia, if I’m not mistaken?”
I nodded. He had done his research, or was more involved in this than Abbot let on.
He continued. “Then the attacks happened and you were re-prioritized. Almost all of you were shifted from here and friendlies to the Middle East. I’d say eighty percent of you guys went to Afghanistan chasing Bin Laden and the Taliban. But not you, though. You’re in Iraq, right?”
I nodded again.
“So over there you’re—”
“Look,” I said. “I appreciate the history lesson, but we got a situation going on here. Someone is setting us up and we don’t know who. We go through Abbot and Keller in the Marines and then to the CIA. It’s not Abbot. It’s not Keller. So it must be someone in the CIA. Can you help?”