by Dirk Patton
“Enough with the speeches,” Ashley said, eyes boring into him. “I’ve got that part, okay? And honestly, I didn’t believe what I was reading until I just saw the president give almost the exact speech I read half an hour ago. How the hell did you know? How did you get your hands on it before it was even delivered?”
“Friends, Ms. Dumont. The same way we retrieved your notes from the Tribune. Friends who share our concerns that America is on a dangerous path from which there may be no way back.”
“Okay, fine,” Ashley said, waving away his answer. “I get it. You’re not going to tell me who’s helping you. But what about what you’re going to do? Is this where I find out you’ve got a guerrilla army ready to go and are about to launch an attack on Washington?”
“Not at this time,” Blue said, his gaze never wavering.
She stared back, eyes widening as she realized what he wasn’t saying.
“You weren’t kidding the other day, were you?” she breathed.
Blue sighed.
“Ms. Dumont. Please. This is unproductive. You must understand that I’m not trying to conceal anything from you. But, if I reveal too much, too soon, I put people’s lives at risk. Habeas corpus has been suspended. What if our security isn’t as good as I believe it is and we’re raided this evening and you’re swept up by law enforcement?
“Then, a prosecutor decides you’re involved with individuals who are planning a resistance against the government. You go straight into a deep, dark hole. No lawyer. No day in court. No rights. How long would it take before you were willing to tell them everything you know?”
“I’m a reporter!” Ashley said hotly. “I’d never reveal a source and I don’t have to!”
“Think that’ll protect you without a lawyer and the opportunity to have a trial? Everyone breaks, Ms. Dumont. Eventually, everyone breaks. I don’t care who you are.”
“Then what if they get you?” she said, unwilling to concede the point. “Don’t you know everything? Aren’t you a bigger risk than me?”
They looked at each other for a long moment before Blue rose to his feet.
“You can’t be broken if you’re not taken alive, Ms. Dumont,” he said solemnly.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Blue hesitated, nodding slowly when he decided to answer.
“It means there are those of us that know too much to allow ourselves to be captured and interrogated. Measures have been taken to ensure that cannot happen.”
“Measures?”
“That’s already more information than I should have given you. Now, please. Continue your reading. I expect there will be more breaking news over the next few days and I want you to understand exactly what we’re facing. The day will come, very likely sooner than you’d expect, when all of your questions will be answered.”
Spinning on his heel, he marched out of the room before she could ask anything further.
“Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh,” she mumbled to herself.
Across the room, BK snorted without turning to look at her.
“What’s so funny?” she asked challengingly.
He shrugged before answering.
“Gotta learn to let things happen,” he said, lowering the TV’s volume back to zero. “Harder you push, the less you learn.”
Ashley was frustrated and lashed out without thinking.
“Well, look at you. For a minute, you almost sounded like you knew how to do more than drag your knuckles and shoot a gun!”
BK slowly turned his head to look at her. His eyes were hooded, the rest of his face blank. She couldn’t tell if he was offended or trying to work through her sarcasm and figure out if he’d been insulted.
“That right there is the fuckin’ problem with this country,” he finally said in a calm, even voice. “Spoiled little liberals like you, so positive you’re superior to anyone who doesn’t think and behave exactly the way you do. Just because I can shoot a gun and have a beard, you’ve already categorized me as second class. I believe the preferred term is deplorable. Right?
“You know nothing about me, lady. You see what all your little sniveling friends and the media have taught you to despise and your mind is made up. Party of tolerance my big, hairy, white ass! You wanna see tolerance? Go into combat. You don’t give a shit what color a guy’s skin is, what his politics are, which god he prays to or who he likes to fuck. All you see is a brother. And let me tell you something. He’ll be your brother for the rest of your life!
“So, think what you want. I really don’t give a shit because you don’t matter to me. You’re just an assignment. Up to me, I’d have left your stuck-up, participation trophy winnin’, latte sippin’ ass in that alley to be killed by the fuckin’ people you worship. One less reporter in the world might do us all some good. So, do us both a favor and keep your opinions to yourself or this is going to be a really rocky relationship.”
Ashley’s face was bright red in anger and embarrassment by the time BK finished speaking. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath as she tried to formulate a scathing retort. BK didn’t give her the chance.
“Gotta take a leak,” he said, standing and walking to the door. “Don’t go nowhere.”
Stunned at the vitriol in the man’s voice, she could only stare at the door through which he’d exited. She was surprised when it opened a few seconds later and he leaned into the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuine. “I don’t know nothin’ about you, neither. Had no right to go off on you like that. And, for what it’s worth, I really wouldn’t have left you out there to die. So, like I said… I’m sorry.”
Chapter 20
Sam looked around at his assembled team as he walked into the warehouse. They had left Wyoming immediately after the assault on the FBI office, splitting up into several vehicles that had been kept under wraps and heading out in different directions. Scattering across the great American West. Some had gone to Denver and caught a flight. Others to Salt Lake City and a couple on south toward Arizona.
Sam had been halfway to Dallas when he’d received the emergency order to go to Idaho. Finding the closest airport, he’d left his vehicle and gotten on the first flight he could find. Now, he stood facing a tall, black man wearing a severe, pinstriped suit. He didn’t know his name, but was aware he was an Assistant Director within the FBI.
“So, what’s so goddamn urgent in Pocatello, Idaho?” Sam asked.
“Two fugitives,” the AD said, handing over a file folder. “They may have something they shouldn’t.”
Sam frowned and didn’t bother opening the folder.
“They may have something? You called us for that? We don’t chase bad guys. That’s what your boys are for.”
“I’m well aware of what your particular skills are,” the man said, nearly sniffing in disdain and earning another frown from Sam. “The two individuals assaulted a pair of FBI agents last night while in the process of removing what we believe may be cameras from a secure scene. I’m not interested in them being captured, Mr. Glass. The FBI and local sheriff’s office are more than capable of tracking down two teenagers.”
He nodded at the file and Sam slowly looked down and flipped the cover open. Two glossy photos were at the top, face shots of a boy and girl. From the background in the images, it appeared they were taken while they were in a vehicle, the girl behind the wheel.
“Who are they?” Sam asked, flipping the pics over to check the back.
“Their names are unimportant. What matters is that we believe they could have possession of evidence that would compromise our ongoing operation. Everything is in the file.”
“Unh-uh,” Sam said. “We don’t work with just a file. Tell me, so there’s no misunderstandings.”
The two men locked eyes for several seconds, the AD finally looking down to check his watch before nodding.
“Got somewhere more important to be?” Sam asked.
“As a matter of fact, I have fo
ur dead agents in Wyoming and two more here in Idaho. My absence from the investigation could draw unwanted attention.”
“Two in Idaho? These kids killed two agents?” Sam asked in surprise.
“That’s the official story. But, before they died, both men saw the suspects remove what is believed to be a trail camera for hunters from a tree at the secure scene I mentioned. They fled into the mountains northeast of Idaho Falls, but that information is being suppressed. A manhunt is currently underway at a location far removed from where they actually went. It is imperative that any photographic or video evidence is retrieved and destroyed. Is that clear enough?”
Sam glanced down at the photos of what looked like a couple of kids barely out of high school.
“And what happens to them?” he held the two pics up and peered at the FBI AD.
“Obviously, there is a great likelihood they have viewed whatever evidence may have been stolen. They cannot be allowed to tell their story.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up.
“You want us to kill a couple of kids? That’s not what we signed on for.”
There was a brief rustle from the rest of his team and Sam held the file out, signifying his rejection of the assignment. The man didn’t accept it.
“That is precisely what you will do, Mr. Glass. All of you,” he said, looking around at the hard faces staring back at him. “The information they have, whether in their heads or in the form of electronic data, is a direct threat to the security of the United States. And all of you as well. This is from the Meadows Ranch.”
Sam was surprised, the team going still as the implication sank in. But he didn’t acquiesce.
“Who the hell’s gonna listen to a couple of kids if they don’t have proof to back up their story?” Sam asked. “You’ve already got them for murdering two federal agents. So what if they talk? No jury would believe them.”
The man sighed dramatically and took a step closer to Sam.
“I am unconcerned with what a jury would or wouldn’t believe. I am concerned with how their words have the potential to enflame certain segments of the population. They cannot be allowed to speak!”
“Get another team,” Sam said, dropping the unaccepted file onto the dusty floor. “Don’t want to start killing kids.”
He turned away and twirled his finger in the air, signaling his team it was time to leave. They immediately stood and began moving toward the door.
“Mr. Glass.”
Sam hesitated before turning back.
“I can call in another team, but that would require the postponement of other vital operations. If you walk out that door and force me to do so, my second call will be to the operations center that’s leading the investigation into the murder of four FBI agents in Wyoming.
“The raw footage from your assault is still available, as well as other evidence you’re unaware of. Within an hour, you and your team will be the most wanted men on the face of the planet. There will be nowhere you can go. Nowhere to hide.”
Sam squinted his eyes, then strode across the floor, drawing a pistol from beneath his shirt. He came to a stop with his arm straight out, the weapon’s muzzle steady on the AD’s forehead.
“Give me one reason I shouldn’t just drop you right now,” Sam said.
“You’re not a fool, Mr. Glass. You know that killing me would not help your situation. In fact, it would only exacerbate it. Now, put the weapon away and get to work. Let’s put all this unpleasantness behind us. You are being handsomely compensated and I’m willing to double your fee for this operation.”
The man from the FBI appeared supremely confident and unfazed by having a gun shoved in his face. Sam stared at him, struggling with the urge to pull the trigger. But as he considered his options, he dropped his arm and holstered the pistol. Stepping a few yards away, he turned and faced his team which was bunched up near the door.
“We’re all in, or we’re all out,” he called. “Anyone want out, now’s the time to speak up.”
He gave the men nearly thirty seconds, but none of them objected. Sam scanned across their faces, looking into each pair of eyes before turning back.
“I’ll call you when it’s done.”
The man nodded and with a thin smile, turned and headed for the door.
“Oh, one more thing,” Sam called, waiting for him to turn and meet his gaze. “If you ever threaten to expose us again, you will be starting a death watch.”
“Death watch?”
“Means you’ll be watching for death to come take you. Maybe it’ll be quick. I could put a round in your eye, right on the spot. Or maybe weeks, even months will pass before it happens. You might wake up in the middle of the night to find one of us standing over you with a knife. Or you could be walking down the street and a bullet comes out of nowhere. That’s the thing. All you’ll know is that it’s going to happen and there won’t be a damn thing you can do to stop it.”
“Death watch,” the man said, sampling the feel of the words in his mouth. “I like that. Especially the concept. That’s a wonderful psychological tool I must remember.”
Sam stared at him, not revealing his surprise at how unflappable the man was. Finally, he nodded at his team and they parted so the FBI AD could walk through the door.
“That’s one certifiable son of a bitch,” one of the men said when they heard a car start and drive off.
“Bucky, you’re on him,” Sam said, looking at one of the men. “By this time tomorrow I want to know everything there is to know. What he eats, when he takes his daily shit and who he’s screwing.”
“Got it, boss,” Bucky said, hurrying out the door.
A moment later, another engine started then tires spit gravel.
“Rest of you,” Sam said. “Get your asses in gear. We’re heading into the bush.”
Chapter 21
Ashley kept her eyes focused on the file she was reading when BK returned. She was still smarting from his rebuke and more than a little confused by his apology. He didn’t seem like the type that would apologize for anything, let alone to a New York reporter. But he had. And she was a good enough judge of people to recognize that he’d been genuinely sorry that he’d said the things he had.
It wasn’t long before the silence got to her and she cut her eyes in his direction without moving her head. He appeared to be absorbed in a game show on the TV. The sound was muted, but he’d enabled the closed caption feature so he could follow what was going on without disturbing her.
She went back to reading, but couldn’t concentrate. Now that she’d cooled off she could admit that she’d prompted the verbal lashing she’d received. BK had been doing nothing other than offering an innocuous comment when she had snapped at him with every intention of putting him in his place. Or at least the place she’d thought he belonged.
With a sigh, she raised her head and turned to face him.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I had no right to say that to you.”
He slowly turned to look at her, then went back to watching the game show.
“So, we’re both sorry. Isn’t that nice,” he said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice.
She immediately flushed with anger and opened her mouth to tear into him again, but stopped herself before the words began to flow. Gritting her teeth, she looked back at the open file on the table. The man was so damn irritating! Unable to stay quiet, she pushed back and swiveled the chair to face him.
“I was just saying I was sorry! Do you have to be such a prick?”
“Did you really mean it?” he asked, eyes on the screen as if she wasn’t worth looking at.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t!” she nearly shouted.
With a suppressed groan that covered several unflattering words, she snatched the file, slapped it onto her lap and swiveled until her back was to him.
“Same to ya,” he said.
Ashley spun around and glared at him. He was looking at her, grinning, and this just made her
angrier.
“What the hell is your deal?” she shouted. “Now I’m not even good enough for you to accept my apology?”
“Are we fighting?” BK asked with a perfectly straight face.
Ashley gasped in frustration and nearly threw the file at him.
“Just askin’,” he continued. “ ‘Cause if we are, then you must have a thing for me. People only fight with people they want to be with.”
Ashley’s mouth fell open as she was momentarily stunned speechless. Blinking rapidly as she tried to understand the crazy man in the room with her, she was even more surprised when he suddenly broke into a huge grin.
“God, you’re easy,” he said, laughing. “I’m just messin’ with you. Try relaxing and you might actually have some fun.”
“Fun?” she sputtered. “You call this FUN?”
“Well, it’s pretty fun gettin’ you all wound up without even trying very hard,” he said, still laughing. “Better’n a goddamn game show, I know that much.”
She stared, at a complete loss for words.
“Look,” he said when it was obvious she didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry if I offended you, but damn you get offended at the drop of a hat. Gotta learn that words don’t mean shit. Figure that out and life’s a whole lot more pleasant. Seriously, isn’t it hard walking around with a hair trigger, just waiting for someone to say the wrong thing? Don’t that wear you out?”
Ashley took a calming breath before answering.
“Hair trigger, huh? You mean like when you went off on me earlier because of something I said? And you were pretty mean, too!”
BK thought about that for a moment.
“Touché,” he finally said, shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
“Really? That’s the best response you can come up with? Touché?”
“Not bad for a knuckle dragger, huh?”
“You’re impossible,” Ashley said, shaking her head and turning away.
“Just don’t think that ‘cause we had a fight we’re gonna have hot and sweaty make up sex. I’m not that easy.”