by Tom Barber
Ledger’s eyes widened. ‘She gonna do it?’
Archer looked at him. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I didn’t realise she was…,’ Ledger said, trailing off. ‘Was she born that way?’
‘No,’ Archer said. ‘I’m responsible for that.’
Ledger looked at him in surprise. ‘What?’
There was a pause.
‘I was fourteen,’ Archer said. ‘She’s always had a hot temper. One night at our house in London we got into an argument; can’t even remember what about now.’
He swallowed.
‘She started crowding me; my back hit the wall and I put my hands up to give myself some space. She kept pressing forward, shouting in my face, and I lost my temper for a split second. I pushed her away.’
He paused.
‘We were on the first floor and the stairs were right behind her. My push knocked her backwards and she lost her footing. She fell.’
Ledger stared at him, surprised.
‘The fall broke her lower back, damaging the vertebrae irreversibly and she got the rest of her life in a wheelchair as a result. It was an accident, but that didn’t change how guilty I felt. I knew my dad never really got over it either. He blamed me for it. His marriage to my mother started to unravel and one night he said he’d had enough. Just packed his things and left. Never came back.’
He glanced at the television screen, not seeing the images.
‘Sarah spent almost a year in recovery. Our dad walked out not long after, and she left for the U.S and never came back. When I was nineteen, our mother died and I was by myself. All of it let to me applying to join the police.’
He exhaled.
‘That’s why we’ve barely spoken in ten years. That’s why I’ve never come here to visit her before today.’
He sighed.
‘That’s why.’
There was a long pause. Archer’s words lingered in the air.
‘Out of every person on the East Coast only two people came to the city to help me,’ Ledger said, seeing his friend’s distress. ‘One of them was Angela. The other was you. You’re a good person.’
‘I still did that to her, Harry. No matter what, she’ll never walk again because of me.’
‘It wasn’t deliberate. And she doesn’t think you’re a bad person.’
‘You’ve never spoken to her. How can you know?’
‘Cops aren’t here yet, are they?’
Archer didn’t reply. Ledger looked at the television across the room.
‘Speaking of which, what the hell do we do right now? I’m out of ideas. That NSA team are still out there, looking for us along with the FBI, Metro and ATF.’
Archer dragged his mind back from a decade ago and focused. ‘Either Sarah calls Metro and we’re in handcuffs in the next ten minutes. Or she doesn’t and we figure out why those guys shot three people and went to all that trouble to frame you. And then after all that, why they broke cover to kill the high school guard and have gone to such extreme lengths to kill you. And us.’
He paused.
‘But whatever happens, we’re not gonna back down. I don’t care if the entire NSA is involved. As long as we have breath, we can still fight. There’s a lot more to this than we’re seeing right now.’
Ledger smiled, nodding. It suddenly escalated into a quick laugh, which caught Archer off guard.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You want to straighten things out with your sister, but on your one and only trip here you end up stuck in the middle of a riot, taking on the NSA, eluding the FBI and right now are on the run with the most wanted man in ten States,’ Ledger said.
Archer looked at him for a moment before smiling too. ‘Don’t forget almost getting pancaked by a train.’
Ledger continued to laugh quietly, Archer joining him, a release of tension, and across the room the door opened, the two men turning to look at Angela.
‘I miss something?’ she asked.
Archer shook his head, his smile fading. ‘Found anything?’
‘I think so. Something on the Agency division Thorne works for,’ she said. ‘You guys need to come take a look.’
Inside his office, Sorenson was still looking at the four NSA operatives’ details that Gregan had sent over. He could see from the notes that the men were used for clandestine work and had long experience both with the Agency and the military before that. Riley and Tarketti had served as snipers in the Middle East before they’d been recruited by the Agency.
Extensive training, which left them as highly skilled riflemen.
‘They went dark four days ago,’ Gregan repeated.
‘But field agents drop off the radar all the time, right?’ Sorenson said.
‘They haven’t been sent on an operation, they haven’t checked in with the Agency and no-one can locate them. Then out of the blue you call saying Carl Thorne’s prints showed up on the cell phone you found in Barry Farms and on some of the shell casings found at the shootouts going on in the 7th and 8th.’
‘Why the hell would these guys be running around town trying to kill Ledger and the others?’ Sorenson asked. ‘If Ledger is their target, then surely they’d want to bring him in for the shootings of the FedEx worker and the two students, not go to all this effort to obliterate him? What do they gain from that apart from losing their jobs? And why go after Archer, Angela and the kid?’
He paused.
‘Unless they’re operating under orders? Something you’re not telling me?’
Silence.
‘This doesn’t leave this conversation.’
‘What doesn’t?’
‘The first victim of the rifle attacks, Marcia Barrera. She wasn’t just a FedEx employee.’
‘Who was she?’
‘She used to be one of ours.’
‘What?’
‘She worked admin for the Section Chief of our Q Division. Left earlier this year.’
‘Why wasn’t it on her file?’
‘She had access to a lot of information, info our enemies would love to get their hands on. If the wrong person found out she worked there, she could have been compromised. She’s not the first person to have left the Agency without her NSA employment history recorded on her file.’
‘Why did she leave in the first place?’
‘I don’t know. I’d need to make some calls to find out.’
‘And she went straight into driving delivery trucks?’
‘I guess she’d had enough of a stressful job. She wouldn’t be the first.’
‘So the Portland victim was a former NSA employee,’ Sorenson said.
‘Ever since she got shot we’ve had people looking into it. Although she left, she still had a lot of friends at the Agency. Everything pointed to Harry Ledger being the perp, same conclusion as you guys. Marcia had some emails that weren’t encrypted, and several were exchanges between her and Ledger. They were romantically involved and had met up a few times. She was due to meet him for lunch in Boston the day after she was killed.’
‘So there’s our motive. Ledger killed her and your four boys must be going dark to exact revenge for an ex-Agency worker.’
‘It’s not as straightforward as that. Marcia used to work at NSA; Angela worked at the Boston Herald and has been sighted with Ledger tonight. The sister of the first victim, a reporter, on the run with Marcia’s suspected killer, Agency operatives trying to whack them both. Put the pieces together.’
‘Are you telling me Marcia was a whistle blower? There was information she was intending to pass on?’
‘I think she was going to be. But I’m guessing someone from our organisation found out.’
‘And whatever she knew that was so damaging, someone ordered Thorne and his team to kill her,’ Sorenson finished. ‘And put it on Ledger, a former high-level army sniper.’
‘We’re guessing that’s why they went off-radar. They framed Harry Ledger for her death, camouflaged it among two others and have be
en running around the city all night trying to finish the job.’
‘Why not be more subtle? Why such a public death?’
‘That’s what we can’t work out. Think we’re enjoying the public nature of this?’
‘And what about the high-school guard? How does he fit into all this? Why kill him too?’
‘Dunno. A diversion, maybe? Or some copycat asshole.’
‘Jesus Christ, Nick. If we’re right, NSA could be responsible for all of this. Marcia, Tyron Scrace, Nathan Blake, the shootouts around town tonight. The drone. That’s seriously bad news for you guys.’
‘Got any idea where Ledger, Archer and the other two could be?’
‘We’re still looking.’
Sorenson shifted his focus to his support staff outside.
‘But I think we might be looking for the wrong people.’
Picking the lock in two seconds and pushing the door back, Carl Thorne and his team entered Jack and Sarah Hardy’s house in Georgetown, sweeping left and right with their rifles, now fully reloaded.
The four men hadn’t wasted any time getting out of Anacostia after the drone attack, making it over the roadblock-free bridge to the Navy Yard without any trouble. Burnett told them it was all over the Metro radio frequency that men who were apparently masquerading as cops were running around carrying automatic weapons. It was time to change it up.
Now driving different cars, they’d also switched out of the Metro uniforms into t-shirts, boots and khaki trousers, their body armour vests over the top, now with ATF printed on the front and back, all the clothing having been stored in several Escalades they’d secured near the Navy Yard, well away from the riots and any potential car-jackings.
Entering what looked like the guest bedroom, Thorne saw a holdall on the bed and opened it, finding a change of men’s clothes. There was nothing of interest.
‘We could wait,’ Riley said, entering the room. ‘They’ll be back.’
‘Yeah, but when?’ Thorne pushed his radio switch. ‘Any sign of her at her office?’
‘No,’ Burnett replied. ‘I ran the street camera tapes back. She’s not been there all day and neither have Ledger or Archer.’
‘She’s got kids,’ Tarketti said. ‘Maybe she’s with them someplace, like their school or in protective custody until her brother is found.’
‘She’s not and they’re not,’ Thorne said, looking around the house. ‘Not yet. We already checked.’
‘So where are Ledger and Archer?’ Riley asked. ‘Still in Southeast?’
‘Ledger’s hit and Archer must be pretty busted up after the drone attack. They’ll want somewhere to go to ground and she’s the most obvious person they’d go to. Ledger hasn’t got any family or friends here. Neither does the journalist, and the only person at the kid’s house was his mother and some cops.’
‘So where is she?’
‘Are you insane?’ Marcus’ voice suddenly erupted through their earpieces, catching each man off guard.
Thorne looked at his team and smiled slightly; they’d been expecting this.
‘I go to take a leak and make a phone call and come back to find you deployed a military drone in D.C.’s Southeast? Are you out of your goddamn minds?’
‘We’re just trying to get the job done,’ Deerman replied, sharing a look with the other three.
‘I wanted subtlety! You think this is what I meant? Am I talking to the right team here?’
They stayed silent.
‘The radio scanner is full of reports of men dressed as Metro cops supposedly being involved in the shootouts. For the love of Christ, tell me you couldn’t have been ID’d.’
‘We weren’t,’ Thorne lied, looking at his team.
‘Wrap this up now. You’ve just dropped me in a mountain of shit. I want them dead within an hour; Ledger, Archer, his brother-in-law and sister, the journalist and kid. All of them. No leaks. Just get it done.’
‘You want to get your fat ass down here and help?’ Riley said, unable to stop himself.
Silence.
‘You ever heard the term mutually-assured destruction?’
‘What are you getting at?’ Deerman said.
‘It means if I go down, you sons of bitches are going to be right there beside me. Count on it.’
‘You threatening us?’ Thorne asked quietly.
‘You bet your ass I am. Just get it done. You’re on the line as much I am.’
With that, the conversation ended, the threat lingering in the static.
Inside the empty house, the four men looked at each other expressionlessly then headed for the door, none of them concerned with the way things had gone.
They knew exactly what they were doing here.
FORTY
Following Angela back to the computer, Archer and Ledger saw she’d logged into her emails. Glancing up, Archer caught a glimpse of Sarah in an empty Conference Room, obviously unwilling to interact with the group who’d suddenly invaded her temporary office.
But she didn’t have her cell phone to her ear either.
‘Wait up, can the NSA see what we’re doing?’ Ledger said.
Angela shook her head. ‘Marcia taught me how to encrypt emails. They can’t track me or my activity. That’s how Snowden communicated with the reporters who broke his story.’
‘I thought she was avoiding emailing you in case someone got onto her?’ Archer said.
She nodded at the screen. ‘This was the only one. She intended to meet face-to-face from the get-go because of security, but couldn’t make it to Boston this past weekend and wanted to make sure I’d make the meet.’
Archer looked at the email.
We need to meet up so you can hear about this in person. Can’t commit any info to email. Not safe.
Tuesday 3:45pm, Charlestown Bridge.
‘So you can hear about this in person,’ Archer read out loud. ‘Long way to come just for a conversation.’
He looked at the choice of words.
‘So you can hear about this in person,’ he repeated. ‘Even though you just said she knew how to keep emails out of sight from NSA detection?’
‘So?’ Angela said.
‘Could she be talking about someone else being involved? A third party she was bringing to the meet?’
‘Like who?’ Angela said. ‘I haven’t heard anything from anyone since Marcia died. Surely they would have come forward by now?’
‘Maybe not,’ Ledger said. ‘If it were me, I’d be laying low with all these shootings going on. And if there’s a third person, they might not know how to contact you.’
Archer suddenly looked up. ‘That meeting spot.’
‘What about it?’
‘That’s where the second victim, Tyron Scrace, was killed, right,’ Archer said, thinking back twenty four hours. ‘Charlestown Bridge.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Portland to Boston, over two hours travel just for a conversation. You need to hear about this in person. I’d read that as someone else giving Angela the information, whatever it was.’
‘So?’ Jesse said. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘We assumed the sniper wanted Marcia dead, so they shot her and killed two other innocent people to hide the fact she was the target, right?’
They all nodded.
‘What if hers wasn’t the only death they planned?’
He tapped into the NY Times, finding the headline on the sidebar.
Harvard student shot dead by Charlestown Bridge in sniper attack.
‘What if it was Tyron who was there for that intended meeting?’ Archer said. ‘It was arranged around his schedule to avoid suspicion; to an onlooker he was down there for a fundraiser. Then he got shot too.’
‘What could he know about the NSA?’ Jesse said. ‘Tyron was just a kid from D.C.’
Looking at the teenager, Archer didn’t reply for the moment, his brain rapidly assessing all the information. What kind of dirt could an eighteen year old have on
someone at the NSA?
Something I’ve learned in my job is that people can lead two very different lives, he heard Jack saying earlier.
The day to day public life and then the private life they don’t want anyone else to know about.
‘Was there anything unusual about Tyron?’
‘Not really. He was very different from Somers though; he was a physical guy. Wrestler, football player, basketball. Always playing sports. And always injured.’
‘Injured?’
‘Yeah, cuts, bruises, that kind of thing. He went into hospital a couple of times. Broke his arm twice and fractured his cheekbone. Clumsy as hell. Foster mother was really upset with that one.’
‘The foster mother he lived with until he was sixteen?’
Jesse nodded. ‘Me and Somers were moved on. He stayed.’
‘Can you remember the name of the people who ran that foster home?’
He nodded. ‘Sure. The Veachs. She ran the home. Her husband worked all day somewhere else. Never really saw him.’
‘Remember their first names?’
‘She was called Valerie. Husband was Marcus.’
Typing the man’s name into the Fingerprint Database, Archer waited. A result came through a few moments later, showing a portly grey-haired man with a sallow expression. He looked unhealthy, as if a bad lifestyle had caught up with him a few laps too early. Nothing on his wife.
‘That’s him,’ Jesse said, leaning forward. ‘That’s the guy. Mr Veach. It was his wife who ran the home.’
Archer, Ledger and Angela didn’t reply, looking at the man’s employment history.
‘Holy shit,’ Angela whispered.
Marcus Veach’s latest job was listed as Head of Q Division.
And for the last twenty nine years, he’d worked at the National Security Agency.
FORTY ONE
‘Q Division; Carl Thorne’s Division,’ Archer said, staring at the screen. ‘Counterintelligence and Security; Marcus Veach is the Section Chief. Thorne, Deerman, Riley and Tarketti work for him.’
Trying to piece it together, the gears in Archer’s head started working overtime. An NSA Section Chief abusing the Agency’s surveillance systems according to what Marcia had told Angela.