by David Archer
Summer was staring at Jeremy. “Being a DHS agent is a license to kill? I thought the United States didn’t actually have those.”
“Any federal agent or member of the military can choose to use deadly force against any known terrorist or suspected terrorists. That’s the way the presidential finding was worded, and it still stands. As for a license to kill, there’s no such actual document, but with that presidential finding in effect, any federal badge is essentially a hunting license for anyone labeled as a terrorist.”
“No shit?” Steve asked. “Man, that sucks.”
Summer looked at him. “Why, Steve?”
“Because, honey, under certain current laws, just about any group that opposes something the government does can be classed as a domestic terrorist organization. Remind me to quit griping about paying taxes.”
Everyone looked to Jeremy. “Jeremy?” Summer asked. “Is he right?”
“Unfortunately, he is. Under the U.S.A. PATRIOT Act, any action which seeks to influence any policy of the government, such as taxation or gun control, through the use of intimidation or coercion, which can be defined as something as simple as a protest, can be considered an act of terrorism. Therefore, any person or group that condones the attempt to influence that policy is automatically considered to be a terrorist or terrorist organization. And yes, that does mean that they could theoretically be subject to targeted killing. Fortunately, so far, that hasn’t happened.”
“Well, let’s hope it stays that way,” Steve said.
“Okay, you heard the man,” Sam said. “Unless you honestly believe you can take him alive, then I’m going to agree. If you are absolutely certain you’re face to face with Reynard, do not take any chances. He is considered a terrorist, so you can take the first shot.”
26
“Let’s get back to the inside person,” Steve said. “Are we sure it isn’t Morton, himself? This whole plot has always been about sympathy, right? Making the public feel sorry for the poor company that got attacked. Well, I’ve been kicking some ideas around with Walter, and he says I might have come up with something that makes sense.”
“Maybe,” Walter said. “I said maybe.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “And what would that be?”
“What if something were to happen to Annie Porter? We know that there are professional killers involved, right? That kid got shot and the company got this massive outpouring of sympathy and support. What do you think would happen if Annie Porter, who everybody knows and loves, were to suddenly get killed?”
Everyone but Walter was staring at Steve. It took a moment, but finally they began to regain their voices.
“I guess it’s always possible this is his way of getting rid of her,” Summer said. “If she dies, her stock would probably revert back to him. That would leave him in total control of the company, all by himself.”
“I don’t think it’s about control,” Sam said. “From what I was told, Morton runs everything. Annie owns stock, but he makes all of the major decisions. I’m not sure what the split is, but either he owns fifty-one percent or her stock is nonvoting. I don’t think he would have to eliminate her, even if he wanted to make some major change in the company.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to get rid of her,” Summer said. “With billions of dollars involved, could you imagine the palimony if he kicked her out? Let’s face it, this would be the perfect opportunity.”
“Feeling a little cynical, today, Summer?” Jade asked.
“Not really,” Summer said. “I’m really just thinking out loud. I spent some time with Morton and saw nothing that indicates any kind of unhappiness in his personal life, but I always try to look at every possible angle.”
“We all do,” Sam said. “I can tell you that he sounded genuine whenever he talked about his feelings for Annie. I never got any impression that there was any problem between them.”
“I agree with Sam,” Darren said. “Nothing I know about Morton would fit the profile of the person behind this. There’s no doubt in my mind that we are correct and Hickam is involved, and I have to say he is likely the originator of the plan. Thanks to Google, I’ve been able to learn a lot about him, and he’s actually quite a piece of work. Starbright is his latest business, but it’s not the only thing he’s ever done. He’s run several different businesses right into the ground, starting with a motorcycle dealership shortly after he got out of the Navy. He followed that up with a financial services company, ended up in trouble with HMRC, the British tax authority, and then went into the scrap metal business. He did well in that for about ten years, but then it turned out that he was spending money faster than it was coming in and the company went belly up. Starbright was actually started by his nephew, as more of a hobby than a business, but Hickam saw the potential and talked the boy into selling it to him. Somehow, he managed to round up investors and raised almost half a million dollars, and built it into not just a video awards system, but the U.K.’s biggest video streaming service. He’s done extremely well with this one, but there are rumors that the company might not be quite as solid as it appears. If his company keeps growing at the rate that it is, his new publicly traded stock values will probably triple within a year.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “So he fits the profile you’re building, then?”
“Perfectly,” Darren said. “On top of all of that about his business ventures, I also found out that he’s been suspected more than once of paying to have someone killed, especially a competitor. One of the reasons he did so well in scrap is because two of his competitors in the London area met with suspicious accidental deaths. Hickam was a suspect, but no evidence was ever found to prove he was connected. A few years before that, an HMRC investigator who was digging into his financial company also met with a suspicious and untimely end. It was set up to look like a robbery, but when the thief was caught, he said somebody he couldn’t identify paid him to kill the investigator and make it look that way. Again, Hickam was suspected, but no evidence was ever produced.”
“He definitely sounds like our boy,” Sam said. “Now, if we can figure out where Reynard fits into this, we might have a chance of killing two birds with one stone. Any thoughts on that, anybody?”
“Pierre Reynard is a professional killer,” Darren said. “I contacted an old friend at Interpol and got a dossier on him, and this guy is one hundred percent pro. He’s credited with more than eighty successful assassinations, more than half of them of prominent figures in business or politics. He’s absolutely without scruples of any kind, because he’s known to have taken contracts to kill children, eliminating competitive heirs to an estate. In more than one case, when getting to the target alone proved to be impossible, he resorted to mass destruction that meant lots of collateral damage. The Swedish ambassador to France was a target, and Reynard planted a bomb on a carousel where the ambassador often took his nine-year-old daughter. Six children were killed, and eighteen more were critically injured.”
Denny nodded his head. “When I was with SAS, he was high on our list. Shoot to kill, those were the orders.”
“And if any of us,” Sam said, “were to come face to face with him, those are the orders now. He is listed as an enemy combatant of the United States, because he has ties to terrorism. Under the law, Jeremy says, we are authorized to use deadly force. Don’t warn him, don’t try to arrest him, just shoot the bastard.”
“You honestly think we might run into him?” Jade asked.
“I’m sure it’s probably a long shot,” Sam said, “but it’s like Steve says, he’s definitely involved in this case somehow, so it’s possible. All I’m saying is that you cannot hesitate if the opportunity for the shot comes along. I understand that goes against the grain for most of us, to shoot first without warning, but this guy is dangerous. If you don’t take him out first, he’s probably going to kill you.”
“That’s a fair assessment,” Denny said. “We lost eight men in SAS because they thought the
y could take him alive. The single survivor claims Reynard was on the floor and handcuffed when he suddenly got his hands on one of the weapons and managed to shoot the entire team. He is rumored to have escaped from several different jails over the years, and restraints don’t seem to hold him.”
“I read about him,” Walter said suddenly. “He knows how people think. He can make people do what he wants. If you look at some of the people he killed, it wasn’t because someone wanted them dead, it was because their deaths would make other people do certain things. Hickam hired him, but Reynard is probably the one who is running this whole operation. He was hired to make sure Web Wide Awards grew quickly, but he’s the one who decides how to accomplish it.”
All eight of the others stared at him, and Sam slowly began to nod his head. “It makes sense,” he said. “The mind behind this whole thing has been ruthless, and that fits perfectly with what Darren just told us about Reynard. If he’s running the show, then he is almost certainly going to turn up here before this is over.” He looked around the table. “All right, we have two missions. First, we need to identify the inside person at Web Wide Awards. Second, we need to find some way to put a stop to Reynard. Anybody got any suggestions?”
*
There are some parts of Denver where the tourists do not go, unless they happen to be looking for a glimpse into the seedier side of life. There are not many such sections, but Denver has its share of bars, dives and diners. Some of them are particularly well suited to the criminal element, but there are a few that are occasionally frequented by some of the most dangerous people in the world.
Crandon’s Diner just off Wewatta Street, near Union Station, was one such place. Though it has never been depicted in movies or television shows, locals knew very well that the diner had seen a number of criminal plots hatched. It was a place where everybody watched everybody else’s back, because an attempt to kill the person at the next table could easily get you killed, as well.
The man sitting at the back table close to the lonely old video game machine knew how to fit in perfectly. His clothes were decent but not expensive, and he gave the impression that he was seeing everything around him, even though his eyes never seemed to leave the coffee cup he held. Most of the people in the place figured he was waiting for someone, and they were close to the truth.
The cell phone in his pocket vibrated, and he took it out and put it to his ear. “Yes?”
“It’s me,” came the voice he recognized as Benjamin Hickam. “We—we have a problem.”
“And that is?”
“I was nearly exposed over here,” Hickam said. “An old friend of mine figured out that I was involved, and went to the CPS. Luckily, their top man has been in my pocket for years, so he warned me about it. I took care of the situation, but I’m afraid it only got worse. My old friend, it seems, has a nephew who is busily trying to dig up proof. I tried to take care of that, as well, but the fool I sent to do it managed to make a botch of it. The man got away, and now it turns out he’s an investigator, working for the people out of Denver.”
“Then find him, deal with it.”
“Well, and that’s the problem,” Hickam said. “I just learned he’s left the country, and is back in Denver. From what I’ve heard, they may have figured out what’s actually going on, and that you are involved.”
“Who is this ‘they’ of which you speak?” The man in the diner suddenly seemed menacing to those around him.
“It’s that bloody security company Morton hired. Windlass, they call it. Seems their top man is famous for a number of things, I guess he was some kind of secret agent for the American government. Samuel Prichard, that’s his name.”
There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and then the man in the diner cleared his throat. “I know of him,” he said. “I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting him, but he is not a threat. The plan will continue, and I shall do what is necessary. It will cost a bit more, however. We were not supposed to run into these problems.”
Hickam sighed. “Of course,” he said. “How much more?”
“We will determine that when the objective is reached. It will depend on the difficulty, but nothing shall change. Call me again if you learn more that you believe I need to know.”
He hung up the phone and put it back into his pocket, then went back to nursing his coffee. He sat there for several minutes, just thinking about the situation.
Sam Prichard. Sometime back, the man in the diner had considered accepting a contract that would have brought the two of them together. He had been promised a powerful position in an entirely new order, by a man named Chandler. The job was simple and straightforward, to eliminate an associate of the Pope, but Reynard had always trusted his own instincts. He’d already heard about Prichard at that point, because of his contacts in the American intelligence community. The fact that Prichard had prevented a terrorist from setting off a nuclear device in Lake Mead was public knowledge; the fact that he had been instrumental in stopping some even bigger terrorist threats was not, but such things found their way to the ears of those who live in that shadowy world.
Pierre Reynard did not fear Sam Prichard, but he detested the idea of being on the losing side of anything. He could care less about the morality of any situation, but his reputation had been built on successes. There was no way he was going to be part of any plan that was doomed to failure, and Prichard had been working with a rogue agent named Long. Long was probably the equal of Reynard, so for the two of them to be working together could conceivably present an obstacle Chandler was unlikely to overcome. For that reason, Reynard had declined the job.
And now, Prichard was running the investigation into the current situation. Reynard had been following the news, keeping an eye on the developments as they happened. He hadn’t actually expected Prichard to be a problem in this particular case, but perhaps he had underestimated the man slightly.
“So,” he mused to himself. “Fate brings us together after all.”
The nice thing about knowing your enemy was that you then knew his weakness. Reynard took out the phone and called up his email app.
Possible mission forthcoming. Acknowledge.
He sent the email and put the phone back in his pocket. It would be several hours before a response could come in, and he had things to do in the meantime. He signaled the waitress for a coffee refill, and then continued to sit where he was.
*
“I have one,” Walter said. “I was thinking about the original shooting. We know that woman put the rifle on the camera. We saw that on the security video. It occurred to me that I missed something. The rifle was where I knew it had to be, but how did it get there?”
Sam looked at him, confused. “Like you said, Walter,” he said. “The woman, Bernadette Jones, put it there. We know that from the video, there’s no possibility it was someone else.”
“I mean, how did the camera get there? The camera moved to come down to where she could reach it. I looked in the control room, and it’s a very confusing place. Most people would never be able to figure out how to move the camera. I don’t think the man with her would have known how to do it.”
“Holy smokes, he’s right,” Steve said. “We never looked at who was in the control room that night. How in the world did we miss that?”
“Actually, we didn’t,” Jade said. “I checked it on the arena security cameras, but the camera in the control room wasn’t working that night. I asked somebody about it, and they said it had blown a fuse. They didn’t fix it until a couple of days later, when they noticed it.”
“The gun was mounted in the early morning hours,” Sam said. “There wouldn’t have been anyone in the control room who actually works there, unless…”
“Charlie Barr,” Darren said. “Sam, how did we miss this? He told us he gave them the cue sheet and the code to get into the building, but if he had given them instructions on how to move the camera, he would’ve said so. I’ll bet fifty bucks ri
ght now he went in there and moved it for them.”
Sam reached over and hit the speakerphone. Jenna’s voice came through a second later. “Yes, sir?”
“Jenna, get Karen Parks on the line for me.”
“Yes, sir,” Jenna said. It was less than a minute later when Karen’s voice came through the speakerphone.
“Sam? You there?”
“We are all here, Karen,” Sam said. “Listen, we’ve got a lot to bring you up to speed on, but right now I have a question. What happened with Charlie Barr the other day?”
“Well, he’s being charged as an accessory, but Pemberton decided to go easy on him. They’re already talking about a plea deal for probation. Why?”
“I need to talk to him again,” Sam said. “When Bernadette Jones mounted the rifle onto the camera, somebody in the control room moved the camera down to where she could get to it. It’s highly doubtful her partner could have done that, but Charlie could have. Any chance you could pick him up, so I can come down to the station and question him?”
“I’ll go you one better,” Karen said. “Since your company is still in the lead on this, I can pick him up and bring him right down to your office. You got a room to use for interrogation?”
“We’ll create one in a hurry,” Sam said. “I’ll get somebody started on that, and you can go find him. He may have been more deeply involved in this than we thought.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can track his ass down,” Karen said. There was a click, and she was gone.
“Sam?” Jade said. “You think Charlie could be the inside man?”
Sam looked at her. “I guess it’s possible,” he said. “Frankly, though, I didn’t think he was that smart.”
Darren shook his head. “I have to agree, Sam,” he said. “Charlie Barr doesn’t fit the profile I’m working up on this.”
“Speaking of your profile,” Sam said, “have you got far enough you could share with the rest of us yet?”