‘This vehicle crashed on a Virginia Interstate yesterday evening,’ Nellis said. ‘The occupant was killed outright, pronounced dead at the hospital. Braking trails on the road suggest a hit and run according to local police, but there were no witnesses and nobody’s come forward with information.’
Jarvis raised a questioning eyebrow, although he already suspected a connection with the case in which Warner and Lopez were embroiled.
‘The occupant was Red McKenzie, one of the former inhabitants of Clearwater, Missouri, whom your people located and spoke to a few days ago.’
Jarvis closed his eyes.
‘Could be a coincidence,’ he suggested, hearing his own words and despising them. ‘McKenzie was a drinker, he could have lost control.’
‘The only thing that he lost control of was his life,’ Nellis shot back as Jarvis opened his eyes again. ‘The autopsy was completed out this morning. No alcohol in his system, no drugs. He died from blunt force trauma due to the impact from the oncoming vehicle, which flipped his truck over three times and partially crushed it. That requires a big damned impact, and yet there’s no evidence of any debris from the other vehicle but some small fragments of glass and plastic. What does that tell you, Doug?’
Military truck, maybe a four tonne transporter or similar, Jarvis thought but didn’t say.
‘McKenzie broke the terms of his agreement,’ Nellis went on, ‘and Majestic Twelve sent both him and the other three hundred people from Clearwater a real clear message: stay silent by choice, or you’ll be silenced permanently. This crash appeared on media networks in states across the east, Doug. An automobile wreck, one of countless dozens that occur in every state every day, and it’s now national news? How does that happen without somebody pulling some heavy strings to put the word out? Every former Clearwater citizen would have seen or heard about it and will know damned well what it means.’
Jarvis thought briefly of the general’s family.
‘They won’t target you,’ he said finally. ‘You’re too high profile, too much of a risk.’
‘Glad you think so,’ Nellis shot back. ‘Personally, I don’t fancy taking any chances with the lives of my daughters. Would you?’
Jarvis avoided the challenge. ‘What happens now?’
‘Nothing happens now,’ Nellis replied. ‘We can’t operate with these people breathing down our necks! They know we’re onto them and they’re applying pressure, letting us know that if we don’t back down then things are going to get nasty – Red McKenzie nasty.’
‘You’re quitting?’ Jarvis asked. ‘You’re the one who instigated this whole thing! You called me out here in the middle of the night to start this program up.’
‘I didn’t know what I was getting myself into,’ Nellis countered. ‘I’ve been dragged up here and informed, in no uncertain terms, that any further intervention by the DIA in these matters will result in direct action against my office, against me. I thought that this was about inter–agency corruption. I wasn’t prepared for what I’ve found out since. These people are dangerous, Doug. They don’t obey the law but are able to manipulate those same laws to hide behind them, to get whatever they want, even if that means strong–arming the administration itself. We’re powerless against this kind of activity.’
Jarvis stared down at Nellis for a long moment.
‘If we’re powerless against such people, then why the hell are we even here? What’s the point of having an intelligence service dedicated to wiping out the enemies of the United States if we’re going to quit at the first sign of danger?’
‘Because the enemy is the United States!’ Nellis snapped. ‘It’s not our government we’re fighting, it’s the big businesses! They’ve acquired so much power, so much influence that our administration is no longer the governing force in our country. Eisenhower was right: we should have believed him when he warned of the growing power of the military–industrial factions that were cosying up to the president at the time. Their power exceeds that of the White House now in all but name: our president has become a cypher, the public face of something that even he does not understand and cannot influence. If the White House cannot control the machinations of global industry, what the hell can we do?’
Jarvis tried to maintain a confident expression.
‘Bring it to the attention of the people who really own the power in our country: the people themselves.’
Nellis scoffed and waved Jarvis aside with a wince.
‘Like hell,’ he uttered. ‘The media can be controlled by this Majestic Twelve, we’ve already seen that. Look at what Fox News does, pushing the opinions and upholding the preferences of its CEO instead of providing unbiased reporting. Majestic Twelve are powerful enough to make Fox look like a madman shouting in the street. We can’t oppose that, we’d be crushed overnight. I take it that you haven’t seen the latest reports coming out of Virginia?’
‘I’ve been in a cell.’
Nellis used a remote to switch on a wall–mounted screen nearby and instantly Jarvis was treated to a report, recorded he guessed, showing Ethan, Nicola, Amber Ryan and Stanley Meyer as wanted fugitives.
‘Local news, at the moment,’ Nellis reported. ‘I’m guessing that if Stanley Meyer doesn’t fold to the demands of MJ–12, this will go nationwide by tomorrow and your people will spend the rest of their lives on the run.’
Nellis switched off the television and tossed the remote down onto his desk.
‘I’ve been told that you’re free to go,’ he informed Jarvis.
‘By whom?’ Jarvis asked. ‘And how come they’re just going to let me go?’
‘Damned good luck?!’ Nellis suggested. ‘You’ve directly assisted fugitives using agency resources, and not for the first time, to evade arrest in both Saudi Arabia and Virginia by the FBI. Any sudden moves, Doug, and they’ll bury you in a federal prison for the rest of your days. I’m sensing that this is our first, last and only warning. I’m shutting the program down and I suggest that you enjoy the rest of your retirement in peace, Doug, otherwise it’s going to be a lot shorter than you planned.’
***
XXXII
Blackstone,Virginia
‘You see anything?’
Ethan crouched low behind the wheel of the decrepit 1970’s Dodge Fire truck that they had found abandoned on an old cotton farm. Ethan had managed to liberate a battery from a vehicle on the street and get the old truck running, and using it they had snuck into town and lay low as the sun rose.
‘Nothing that screams FBI,’ Ethan replied to Lopez in a whisper as she sat low in the driver’s seat and watched a run–down motel nearby. ‘If they’re actively looking for us then motels are the way to go. We can’t get in there without attracting attention to ourselves – you’ve seen the news reports.’
A pre–dawn drive through a nearby small town had taken them past a television repair shop, and there in the window behind the grated metal shutters had been a screen showing a local station. They had waited only minutes to see their faces emblazoned across the television. Straight afterward they had seen the report on the crashed Ford Ranger and an image of Red McKenzie had appeared, deceased, the victim of a late–night hit and run out on the Interstate.
‘They’ve got us completely covered,’ Lopez hissed. ‘That was a local station, right? We haven’t seen anything to suggest they’re broadcasting that stuff nationwide.’
‘Haven’t seen anything to suggest they didn’t either,’ Amber pointed out from the back seat. ‘I guess this is what Stanley was afraid of – total loss of control.’
‘We’ve been in this situation before,’ Ethan assured her as he watched the motel. ‘Lopez and I were dark for almost six months and we never got caught.’
Amber smiled without warmth. ‘That’s lovely and I’m very happy for you both, but I’d very much like my life back if it’s all the same to you. Living out of dirty motels and wearing disguises for five decades wasn’t part of my game plan, y’know?’
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‘Me either,’ Lopez agreed. ‘I’m not going on the run because of those assholes. They murdered Red and now they’re after us. I say we start fighting back.’
Ethan sighed as he kept his gaze fixed across the street.
‘It’s not about going on the run and hiding forever,’ he said. ‘We just need to lie low until this blows over and then we can start building ourselves back up again. Jarvis will come through for us, we need to give him more time.’
‘Jarvis is out of the picture,’ Lopez insisted. ‘If the FBI are after us, they’re sure to have figured out who’s been assisting us. Jarvis said they were breathing down his neck, didn’t he? We’re fugitives now, so the first thing they’ll do is shut him down.’
Ethan saw a vehicle pull up alongside the motel, a non–descript silver sedan with government plates and tinted windows.
‘Here we go,’ he said softly.
They watched as two FBI Agents got out of the vehicle and walked toward the old motel and into the reception.
‘This isn’t going to work,’ Amber said from the backseat. ‘Just because we’re not there now doesn’t mean they won’t come back later, and who’s to say there isn’t a reward out for us?’
The two agents emerged from the motel and climbed back into their sedan. Moments later, they pulled away and vanished around a corner on the street.
‘Okay, here we go,’ Ethan said. ‘Remember, stay in the truck while I go inside. The TV stations are using a mugshot that makes me look bad, but that’s also different to the way I look now. Hopefully that will be enough to fool whoever’s on the desk inside.’
‘Or get us arrested,’ Lopez muttered, but she said nothing more as Ethan eased the truck across the street and into the motel’s lot.
Ethan killed the engine and climbed out. The sunlight was bright and the air clear and crisp as he put on a pair of sunglasses and pulled a baseball cap down over his thick brown hair. He took a deep breath and then strode across to the reception door and walked inside.
The interior smelled of old wax and polish, a pall of stale cigarette smoke wafting toward him from behind a security grill in the wall. Behind the grill sat a fat, ugly man with sweat–sheened skin, a small electric fan humming nearby and pointed up at the man’s face. He looked up at Ethan with eyes devoid of any enthusiasm for life that Ethan could detect.
‘Got a room?’ Ethan asked, sensing that engaging this guy in conversation would be a pointless exercise.
‘We’re a motel, what do you think?’
The voice was rough from decades of smoking, brazen while behind the security grill. Ethan’s gaze snapped to meet the hotelier’s and anger flared inside him.
‘Be nice, or I’ll drag your fat ass out of that office and kick it all the way down the street.’
‘You want a room or not?’
‘Ground floor, my mother’s a little weak legged after her operation and needs a rest from the journey.’
The lie came easily, as did the aggression. The fugitives on the TV would be expected to lay low and not draw attention to themselves by threatening people. Likewise, the story about his mother was dropped casually and would hopefully derail the fat man’s interest in anything Ethan had to share.
‘Do you take credit cards?’ Ethan asked brusquely.
‘Cash only.’
Ethan tutted irritably despite only having cash on him. The more deception he could throw at the dim–witted hotelier, the greater his chances of remaining unrecognized.
‘How much?’
‘Fifty bucks a day,’ the man replied. ‘Each.’
‘A hundred fifty bucks for this flea–ridden dump?’
‘You don’t like it, go to Richmond,’ the hotelier shrugged.
Ethan peeled off the money from his meagre funds and handed the notes over. Moments later, the hotelier slid a key under the security grill. Ethan saw his chance and grabbed the fat man’s wrist, twisted it sideways and pinned his hand against the outside of the grill to a shriek of pain as he leaned in close.
The hotelier squealed in panic as his wrist was twisted and bent back at a sharp angle. Ethan offered him a cold grin.
‘I ever see you outside of your little cage here, I’ll shove this hand up your fat ass, understood?’
The hotelier nodded frantically, grunting as fresh sweat spilled from his forehead and his lank black hair hung in greasy fronds before his eyes. Ethan grabbed the key with one hand and gave the hotelier’s wrist a last painful wrench before he released it and turned his back, walking for the door.
‘That’s assault,’ the hotelier uttered weakly from behind Ethan as he opened the reception door.
‘It’s a friendly warning,’ Ethan replied without looking back as he stepped out into the sunshine and strode back to the truck.
He opened the passenger door and leaned in to Amber’s side to look at her. He took a fresh handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.
‘What the hell am I supposed to do with this?’ she asked.
‘Wear it on your head. You’re seventy five and have just had a hip operation,’ Ethan replied. ‘Stay between Nicola and I and act like it.’
Amber dutifully wrapped the kerchief over her head in the manner of a bonnet and hobbled out of the truck’s rear seat as Lopez moved to her side and helped shield Amber from view of the hotel’s reception. They held her between them and slowly crossed the parking lot toward a line of apartments with aged, sun–weathered doors and grubby windows.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Amber hissed. ‘If anybody gets a look at me we’ll be sold out before we even realize what’s happened.’
‘Keep moving,’ Ethan whispered. ‘One thing at a time, okay? Let’s just get out of sight first.’
Ethan unlocked the apartment door and Lopez helped Amber inside as Ethan followed and then closed the door behind them.
‘That’s it,’ Amber snapped as she tore the handkerchief from her head and tossed it onto the grubby sheets of a small bed, grabbing for her cell phone. ‘I’m calling for help.’
‘You can’t,’ Ethan snapped back. ‘We need to sit this out and wait.’
‘For what?!’ Amber wailed. ‘Divine intervention?!’
Ethan shook his head wearily as Lopez took up the mantle.
‘We can’t move, not until we’ve got a game plan. Stanley’s gone, and if he’s got any sense he’ll sell out. It’s all he can do now to prevent us from … ’
‘He already has,’ Ethan said.
He had switched on a small, aged television propped on a wall mount in one corner of the room, so old in fact that it wasn’t even a flat–screen but an old cathode ray tube with a thick layer of dust gracing its surface. Despite its age, however, the picture was more than clear enough as a news report appeared showing an image of Stanley Meyer.
‘Turn it up!’ Amber cried.
Ethan looked about for a remote, but it was Lopez who reached up and turned the volume knob on the television itself. The sound came in abruptly from the ancient speakers at the television’s rear.
‘Police this morning confirmed that they had eliminated four suspects from their enquiries into last night’s forest fire after one of the four, renowned scientist Stanley Meyer, was able to confirm that all four suspects were in fact in Kentucky at the time of the blast. Police have announced that they are still searching for witnesses to the fire, and are urging anybody with information to come forward as soon as possible...’
Ethan could see that Stanley Meyer appeared unharmed and was walking between a police station and a pair of smart, black SUV’s parked in a lot nearby. A lawyer was by his side and doing the talking for him, but it was clear that he was being released without charge and that the media were being used to spread the news to all concerned.
‘He’s sold out,’ Lopez agreed. ‘Only way he’d be walking like that on live television.’
Amber stared open–mouthed at the screen, for once lost for words as Ethan shifted his attention to the
two vehicles parked in the lot on the screen.
‘Government?’ Lopez hazarded. ‘Can’t see the plates.’
‘No,’ Ethan shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t get themselves on film too close to Stanley. My guess, it’s Huck Seavers.’
Amber managed to regain her voice as she shoved one hand in her pocket and retrieved her cell phone.
‘I’m calling my mother, right now!’ she snapped.
‘No!’ Ethan shot back. ‘We can’t be sure this is all over.’
‘The hell it isn’t!’ Amber replied, the cell phone already in her hand and the screen aglow. ‘My father’s alive and he’s free!’
‘It might be a ploy to draw us out,’ Lopez explained to her.
‘They don’t need us anymore!’ Amber replied. ‘They wouldn’t bother with all of this. You said it yourself, they’re using the media to get messages across to us. They’ve killed Red McKenzie and now my father’s folded to their demands. They probably threatened our entire family with extinction for all I know. I understand what you’re saying and I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I don’t answer to either of you. I need to call my mother and that’s what I’m going to do, okay?’
Ethan looked at Lopez, who shrugged.
‘Do it from across the street or something,’ Ethan said. ‘If this is a set–up of some kind, at least they won’t be able to bag us all at once.’
Amber strode for the reception door and without another word she opened it and stomped outside, slamming the door behind her. Ethan felt something resembling relief as the room fell silent.
‘Tenacious,’ Lopez observed.
‘Yeah, and I have to put up with both of you.’
‘Oh come on, I’m not that bad!’
Ethan cast Lopez a weary glance. ‘You’re my boss, on paper at least. You ever meet a boss you could get on with?’
Lopez was about to answer when the door to the room burst open and Amber dashed inside.
‘They’re here!’ she yelped.
Ethan dashed to the window and peered out to see two expensive looking vehicles pull into the lot and screech to a halt directly in front of the apartment.
The Fusion Cage (Warner & Lopez Book 2) Page 24