Rogue (An American Ghost Thriller Book 1)

by J. B. Turner

  What the hell was going on? No one moved into or out of the facility without his knowledge.

  Sands stared at the monitor and dialed the direct line to the facility’s director of security. “This is Sands. Where the hell is Dr. Berenger going?”

  “His work is done.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Who’s in charge here?”

  “You are, sir.”

  “So . . . why the hell is Berenger leaving? This hasn’t been authorized.”

  “Sir, with respect, authorization just came through in the last few minutes from General Wilson.”

  “Clayton Wilson?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “No one gets in or out without my say-so. That’s the rules. So there’s no goddamn authorization.”

  “Sir, General Wilson said he wanted Dr. Berenger back in the US with immediate effect for a debriefing.”

  Sands stared at the monitor as the chopper door slammed shut and it took off into the slate-gray skies as he ended the call.

  His mind began to race. An operation was under way. A complex, sensitive operation. So why the hell was a highly experienced psychologist being withdrawn from his facility right now? And why would General Wilson do so without going through him first? He weighed the options. Do nothing and be left in the dark. Do something, and try and find out what was going on.

  He dialed General Wilson’s direct number. Three rings and he answered.

  “Everything OK, Jack?” he said.

  “Sir, I just saw Berenger leave the facility without my permission. I’ve just been told you OK’d this.”

  “I did.”

  Sands closed his eyes for a moment. He was struggling to contain his anger. “You mind explaining the rationale, sir?”

  “He compromised the mission.”

  “Sir, Nathan used a classic diversionary tactic. It might’ve fooled just about anybody.”

  “The doctor is an experienced man. He should have seen the signs.”

  “Even so, surely with an operation under way as we speak, this could have come after the targets have been dispatched. This is most irregular, sir.”

  “Jack, can I be frank?”

  “Why not?”

  “We can’t afford the tiniest slip. We’ve already had problems we’ve had to deal with.”

  Sands knew he was talking about the blogger. “Mark is an honorable man.”

  “He fucked up.”

  “Sir, we shouldn’t be having this discussion now.”

  “We have to act.”

  “You mind explaining the thinking behind shipping him out right now and without my permission? I’m in charge. I’m the lead on the ground.”

  “I apologize for not alerting you. But you have enough on your plate already.” Sands detected a cold edge in Wilson’s tone. “I can’t have any more problems.”

  Sands glanced at the monitor showing Stone’s progress up the hill.

  “Once this is over, we’ll be debriefing everyone to see what we can learn about this operation and the lessons we need to take on board.”

  Sands could see he wasn’t going to win this exchange with Wilson.

  “Now, if that’s all, I want you to focus on the task at hand. Good day, Jack. And I’ll be waiting on your call later with the news.”

  Forty-One

  Senator Crichton was lagging a few yards behind Jessica as they climbed higher. She stopped and turned around.

  “Tough going, huh?” she said.

  “No kidding. What was I thinking?”

  Jessica unzipped a side pocket of her backpack and took out a chocolate bar, which she handed to Crichton. “Here, take this for energy, old-timer.”

  Crichton smiled. “Hey, less of the ‘old,’ would you?” He opened the wrapper and bit into the dark chocolate. It tasted good.

  His cell phone began to vibrate in his backpack. He groaned. “Gimme a goddamn break. Just when I was enjoying some peace.”

  “Just let it go,” Jessica said.

  Crichton shook his head. It wasn’t his way to let anything go. He took out his phone. The caller ID showed his brother’s name. “Hey, Murray, you’re up early. I’m halfway up a mountain in Scotland, for what it’s worth.”

  Murray ignored the small talk. “Brad, is it OK to chat?”

  Crichton said, “Jessica’s here.” She looked puzzled.

  “So is it OK to talk?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Murray sighed.

  “Bad news?”

  “Brad, last night you mentioned you had a chat with Jack Schultz, the legal counsel for the committee, am I right?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t know how to explain this.”

  Crichton wondered what was bothering Murray. His brother was no shrinking violet.

  “Brad, I just turned on the news. It’s all over the place here. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

  The line began to break up. “Told me what?”

  “It’s breaking news. Fox and CNN are both reporting that Schultz was found floating in the pool at the sports club he’s a member of, three blocks from the White House.”

  “Jack Schultz?”

  “Brad, listen to me. This is bad, bad news. Do you understand what I’m getting at?”

  Crichton closed his eyes as the wind buffeted them on the mountain. “Fuck.”

  “Think about it. Only a matter of hours after he spoke to you, Schultz is floating facedown in his club’s pool. Reporters are saying they suspect a heart attack.”

  “Murray, he was the one who told me not to open the files on the flash drive. But he saw what was on it.”

  “We can’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Damn straight I can jump to conclusions. The blogger. Now Schultz. There’s a list.”

  “Brad, you need to hand it in to the FBI.”

  “I intend to.”

  “How about I reach out to the FBI legal counsel in London?”

  Crichton felt empty inside. “I think that would be wise. Thank you.”

  “Let me see what I can do. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

  Crichton sighed. “Shit.”

  “Get your ass out of wherever you are. Back to your base. And catch the next flight to London unless I say otherwise.”

  “Murray?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Appreciate the heads-up. I owe you one.”

  “Take care, man.”

  Crichton ended the call.

  “That wasn’t good news, was it?”

  Crichton bowed his head for a moment. “We need to get back.”

  “What’s happened?”

  Crichton relayed the story. “Very fit guy. Swam a hundred laps each and every day. Jogged. And he dies of a heart attack?”

  “It happens.”

  “It happened a few hours after he read the file and warned me not to access it.”

  “Oh shit, what have I done? That’s awful.”

  “Jessica, this has nothing to do with you.”

  “But it does.”

  “You were just the messenger. How would you know?”

  Jessica bowed her head and began to cry. “I’m scared. Really scared.”

  Crichton took off his backpack and hugged her tight. “Listen to me. I’m here. You’re fine, OK?”

  “Nothing’s fine, though, that’s just the thing.”

  Crichton wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of his hand. “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. We won’t get back in time for the ferry.”

  “I could get us choppered out.”

  “Imagine if that got out, though,” she said. “Senator Crichton and his female aide helicoptered off mountain. Media firestorm.”

  Crichton knew that would be the end of him. “You think we should get the first ferry out tomorrow morning?”

  Jessica dabbed her eyes. “I think that’s for the best. Do you want to head down now? I don’t have the stomach to carry on.”

/>   Crichton nodded. “My heart’s not in it now.”

  Jessica stared out at the endless horizon and the lake down below.

  “I need to formulate a media response.”

  “The team will be working on that. I guarantee it.”

  Crichton nodded, knowing she was right. “I feel sick.”

  “About what happened?”

  “Yeah . . . and what’s coming. I don’t know if this is a destabilization strategy to derail my plans.”

  “Pretty elaborate.”

  “If they link my name, no matter how tenuously, with the deaths of some blogger and the legal counsel for the intelligence committee, nothing will help us.”

  Jessica brushed her hair off her face. “What else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Brad, I can look into your eyes and see everything there is to know about you. You’re pulling away.”

  “Jessica, now is not the time.”

  “Do you still care for me?”

  “I just really need some time to think about all of this.”

  Jessica nodded. “I see.”

  Crichton looked up toward the top of the mountain as the clouds began to drift in, smothering the vista. “You understand that, don’t you?”

  Jessica said nothing.

  “I’m undergoing a bit of a crisis. I’m torn. I’m married. And here I am with you. This is just getting too complicated.”

  “You don’t have to explain.”

  “I want to talk about us. And about our future,” he lied. He realized at that moment he had already mentally cut ties with her. “But not now. Is that clear?”

  Jessica forced a smile. “So it’s not over?”

  Crichton couldn’t say the words. “Let’s talk about it when we get back to DC.” He tried to find the right phrase. “This Patterson business is weighing on my mind too. You understand that, right?”

  Jessica gave a wan smile. Her eyes filled with tears. She looked around. “That’s fair.”

  Crichton wanted to change the subject. “I can’t think straight right now. I was really looking forward to this hike. Have been for weeks.”

  “Look, Brad, I figure we’re only twenty minutes, maybe half an hour, from the summit. I know this is bad news. And I can see you’re not yourself right now. But we probably won’t be back here, right? Let’s finish this hike. Besides, we can’t leave till tomorrow morning, anyway.”

  Crichton ran a hand across his face.

  “What do you think?”

  Crichton sighed. His heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to call it quits there and then. The call had him spooked. “Can’t really face it after that news, Jessica.”

  Jessica sighed. “Look, I’ve come all this way. Why don’t you just head down, and I’ll finish the hike myself?”

  Crichton groaned. The last thing he wanted was for his young assistant to be out in the wilds by herself. He wondered for a moment if he shouldn’t just pull rank and tell her to get the hell off the mountain. “Can I be frank? You’re stubborn and silly. I want to get the hell out of here.”

  “Brad, yes, I am stubborn. But we can’t leave until tomorrow morning. Look, I’ll be fine. I’ll return well before sunset.”

  “This is crazy.”

  Jessica had already turned and was headed back up the mountain trail.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Goddamn!” He pulled on his backpack and shielded his eyes from the sun. “The summit and then straight back down, you hear me?”

  Forty-Two

  Stone crunched the scree on the trail underfoot as he closed in on the senator and his mistress. He checked the GPS tracking device. He was within seven hundred yards of his prey. They had again stopped for a rest close to the summit of the mountain. He was looking for a clean shot. But he also needed to stay out of their line of sight.

  He came to a sharp drop and stopped, heart pounding, scree falling away below. “Fuck,” he said, startled by the sudden cliff edge.

  Stone’s gaze wandered across the ridge. In the distance, he thought he saw something. He crouched down and looked through the binoculars. The senator and his girlfriend were drinking water. They both looked animated, as if arguing. He unzipped his backpack and assembled the specially modified rifle.

  He pressed his eye up to the sights. He saw the couple through the crosshairs. Then he used the range finder to pull Crichton into the middle of his sights. This was the one he wanted. He stared, wanting to get a direct shot to the chest.

  Stone felt excited. He was about to test the Venus Technique Shooter, an electromagnetic pulse gun used in its original form to counter jamming technology. Now he had in his hands the modified version: an assassination tool.

  He locked on to the target, needing a clear shot for this to work. The seconds dragged and the senator was still in his sights.

  Stone was breathing hard. He needed to calm down. Focus. And relax. He held his breath and moved his finger to the trigger.

  Forty-Three

  Jessica Friel opened the wrapper of a granola bar and gave it to Brad. “Look, if you don’t want to finish this hike, it’s fine.”

  Crichton took the bar and began to nibble.

  Jessica could see he was angry. She wondered if she shouldn’t have just headed down when he had told her to. “Look, maybe I was hasty. What if we just called it quits? Would that make you happy?”

  Crichton forced a smile.

  “It would, wouldn’t it?”

  Crichton nodded. “My head’s full of a thousand things I’ve got to do. My head’s not in the right place. I’m sorry.”

  Jessica took out a flask and poured a cup of black coffee for each of them in two plastic cups. “Caffeine, and then we get back to the cabin and you can make some calls, OK?”

  Crichton took a gulp and smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

  “I’m sorry about everything.”

  Crichton drank the rest of his coffee and handed the cup back to her. “Jessica, when we get home, we need to talk a few things over.”

  Jessica sensed it wasn’t going to be good news. “I see.”

  “I don’t want to hurt my wife. You know that.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Crichton blew out his cheeks. “She’s the mother of my children.”

  “Do you love her?”

  “Jessica, yes, I do love her. I’m sorry, but I do. I care about her very much. And I don’t want to hurt her.”

  Jessica nodded, curling her windblown hair behind her ear. She ate the rest of the granola bar and put the empty wrapper back in her pack. She turned and looked up at the summit. “Looks like I’ve come a long way just to get dumped.”

  “It’s not like that. Please don’t make it like that.”

  Jessica felt stupid and empty. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen this coming. He was brushing her aside. And being nice as he said it. “I thought we had something.”

  Crichton groaned.

  Jessica turned around. His eyes were closed, as if he was in pain.

  “Brad, you OK?”

  Brad fell to his knees and clutched his chest as he vomited and his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Jessica felt a wave of panic wash over her. “Oh Christ!” She took off her backpack and kneeled beside Brad on the rocky, windswept ledge as the color drained from his face. She checked his wrist for a sign of life. A faint pulse. “Brad, listen to me, you need to hang in there, do you understand? I think you’re having a heart attack.”

  Crichton’s eyes opened wide for a few moments. Then they began to roll back into his head. He garbled something.

  Jessica leaned in close. “Brad, please . . . What is it?”

  “Not gonna . . . Not gonna . . .”

  “Tell me, Brad!”

  “Not gonna make it.”

  Jessica was gripped by a growing sense of panic. She was alone with him, stuck up some goddamn mountain in a foreign land in the middle of nowhere. “Oh Christ, Brad! What do I
do? I don’t have any aspirin or anything!”

  Brad clutched his chest tighter and clenched his teeth. He grabbed Friel close. “Take it!”

  “What?”

  Crichton was gripping the lanyard with the lip-balm flash drive around his neck. “Take it to the Feds! Do you hear me?”

  Jessica held the lanyard. “This?”

  “Take it!”

  Jessica shook her head. She cursed herself for not bringing aspirin. She knew Brad had had a heart scare not long ago. “I’ll get you out of here, Brad. Don’t worry about the flash drive.”

  Crichton began to shudder.

  Jessica watched her lover spasm and started to sob. She felt helpless as the shock began to take hold of her. But she was also angry with herself.

  “Think, goddammit! Do something!” She reached over and pulled her phone out of her backpack. She punched in 999, the number for UK emergency services. There was no signal. “Gimme a break!”

  It seemed like the whole scene was playing out in slow motion.

  Jessica dialed the number again. Still no signal. “Bullshit.” She looked and saw Brad was turning blue. She kneeled beside him and wiped his mouth with the back of her hand. “Goddamn you, Brad.” She felt tears spill down her face. She clasped her lips around his and began to give him mouth-to-mouth, breathing in hard, then compressing his chest. Breathing out, compressing his chest. “Wake up, goddammit, Brad—do you hear me?”

  Jessica could see he wasn’t responding. She began to hyperventilate, slipping into a blind panic. “Think, goddammit! Do something!”

  She checked his pulse. There was nothing.

  “Oh come on, think!”

  She began to thump his chest harder. Harder. Harder. Bone-crunching punches around his heart. “Come on, you bastard! Don’t do this to me!”

  Brad’s lips were gray.

  Jessica pressed her lips against his cold mouth and breathed hard. “Please,” she wailed, punching down onto his chest. “You! Will! Not! Fucking! Die!”

  No sign of life.

  She dialed 999 again. Still no signal.

  Jessica rifled through Brad’s pocket and pulled out his cell phone. She tried 999. Still no signal, no ringing, no connection. Dead. She began to scream as if she were losing her mind.