High Ground

by Madelon Smid

  In seconds, they became part of the colorful stream of traffic heading out of the downtown sector of D.C. He checked the driver, compared his face reflected in the rearview mirror to the ID tag posted on his dash. He glanced out the back, hard to tell if they were being followed in such heavy traffic. A fine mist dampened the pavement. The red and gold of vehicle lights bled into its surface in long, reflected streaks.

  Cat sat straight, checking the vehicles around them, the taxi’s speed, the shadowed nooks, and the people on the street. They anticipated anything from a gunshot to an explosion.

  Josh shivered. Goosebumps lifted over his entire body. He looked behind them again, peered out her window, his “Floor it!” came at the same second as Cat’s “Accelerate!”

  The driver stomped on the gas pedal. Cat slipped her Glock from its holster as Josh jumped into the center of the seat and curved his body around her. Aiming straight at them, the white panel van slammed into the taxi.

  The driver planned to T-bone them, making a direct hit on Josh’s side of the car. Ironically, in shielding Cat, he saved himself from serious injury. The taxi driver’s quick reaction moved them forward so the van hit the rear panel, sending the taxi in a spin. They turned a 360 degree circle and started around again. Josh focused on the blur of action outside his window. The van pulled up, executing a U-turn for another strike. The taxi stalled out, stuck like a tortoise in the center of an intersection.

  Cat spoke rapidly into her mike, “Back-up, immediate assistance required. White panel van. New Jersey license number BL134N.”

  “Stay down,” she snapped, leaping out her side of the car and aiming her Glock over the roof at the oncoming van. She fired off a clip, aiming at the windshield and front tires before it veered. He could make out two figures in the front seat, but shadows within the vehicle kept him from seeing faces or other identifiers. With half of his mind frazzled by fear for her and the rest of his attention on the van zooming toward them, Josh missed the black SUV speeding toward the van. Another followed. A gun appeared out the side of the lead SUV. Black spots peppered the side of the white van. It changed direction, hurtling down a side street, with the shooter in pursuit. The second SUV closed on their taxi, tires burned rubber into pavement as it slewed to a stop. The navy sedan pulled up beside it.

  Cat searched the street. “Calm the driver,” she instructed Josh. “I’ll assess the situation.”

  She joined the passenger of the navy sedan, who’d jumped into the street, a submachine gun at the ready. “You can stand down. The FBI chased them away, Stan.” He was one of the men on RG’s detail.

  The driver stayed put. Stan, spring-loaded from the adrenaline in his system, nodded. Cat circled the taxi. The FBI agent riding passenger in the SUV got out, holstered his Glock, and crossed to Cat. “Anybody hurt, ma’am?”

  “We’re fine. Thanks for the back-up. I didn’t know you had two teams assigned to us.”

  “Neither did I.” The FBI agent pulled out a phone and tapped a number into it. He talked briefly while Cat walked back to the driver’s window and indicated he roll it down.

  He refused.

  “It’s okay, we’re the good guys,” Josh assured him. “We’re with the government. Someone’s trying to kill me, and you unfortunately got caught up in an attempt.” He sounded so sanguine the driver gave a snort of laughter.

  “Sure,” he growled, “all part of the job of a taxi driver. I’ve seen worse.” He rolled down his window.

  “You okay?” Cat asked.

  “I’ll tell you after I hear who’s going to cover the damage on my cab.”

  “We’ll cover it. Can you get it started?” She stepped back while the driver cranked the ignition. It caught.

  “It’ll get me back to the station.” He rolled ahead a few yards. He held out his hand. “Who’s we?”

  Cat motioned the FBI agent over. He moved forward, flashed his FBI badge at the driver, and handed him a business card.

  “Phone that number, and they’ll deal with your costs.” Cat stood in front of the open back door, gun at her side, until the navy sedan drew even. She beckoned Josh out. “Our ride’s here.”

  “Ma’am…” The young FBI agent stepped closer. “You should know headquarters says we were the only detail on you tonight.”

  “So, who’s behind door number three?” Josh inquired when she slid onto the backseat beside him.

  “Do you know?” Cat asked the bodyguards in the front seat.

  “Nope, we were hanging back, as RG instructed.” Stan answered. “We knew they were following you. Can run a number, but don’t have an ID.” Her eyes studied the direction the van and SUV had taken.

  “The SUV was registered to the FBI according to its license plate,” she said.

  “Back-up for the van, or after the guys in it?” Josh wondered.

  “I’ll get a call into RG. Right now, let’s get you home,” Stan suggested. He made a U-turn, the FBI hot on his bumper.

  “Take us to FBI Headquarters.” Cat directed the driver. “I’m not exposing my principal until I know who’s in the game. There’s something off about what just happened.”

  Chapter Seven

  Three hours of mind dulling delays and four cups of really bad coffee later, Josh and Cat entered a boardroom to find RG and the head of FBI waiting for them. At least she let me have a shower. Josh sank onto yet another laminate chair, designed to cup a body shape a lot different than his. Cat didn’t mind letting him out of her sight within the safety of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The hot shower did little to loosen muscles gone stiff from a strenuous climb, a thorough chilling, and the infusion of adrenaline that seemed to becoming a normal part of his day.

  “Still in one piece, I see.” RG nodded across the table. “Director Forbes has some interesting information.” He looked at the director and settled back in his chair, his face grimmer than usual.

  “First, let me say I’m glad you’re both safe. Good work, Ms. Duplessis.” He cleared his throat, opened a file lying in front of him. “It seems our friend Maddox features in this latest attempt.”

  “Acting alone?” Cat queried.

  “The van is his. He borrowed it from his brother-in-law. We found traces of blood, same type as his, on the passenger seat and a blood trail leading away from the van. Unfortunately, we didn’t find him. We’ve issued a BOLO.”

  “There were two men in the van. I couldn’t see their faces, but I’m sure of the count,” Josh reported. “What happened to the other man?”

  “My agents found him with a bullet through his head, sitting in the driver’s seat.”

  “And the reason they were assigned to follow us?” Cat looked at RG.

  RG looked at the director, who nodded, and settled back in his chair, flipping open a file. “The plate number your bodyguards obtained is listed to the FBI. Homeland made inquiries earlier, as to why we assigned agents to follow you without discussing it with them. They are now satisfied our agents weren’t following you, with or without orders. We only assigned agents working out of Homeland after the shooting at the Senate hearing.” He took a breath, gave himself a minute. “We’re investigating on the QT, looking at the possibility someone in house went rogue or is working with a terrorist cell as the CIA insist.”

  RG spoke up, “The director informs me CIA has been following Maddox since his wife’s funeral. They planted a tracking device on him graveside. They still believe he’s linked to a terrorist cell.”

  Cat’s temper flared, her eyes flashed, her caramel skin flushed carmine.

  “The bastards used my principal as bait, without gaining permission from Josh, or letting me know? He could have been killed.”

  Rage scorched Josh’s brain at the realization. “They let Maddox kill Max and go free in the off chance Maddox might lead them to terrorists?”

  “They swear they have concrete proof. They seized a laptop belonging to Maddox from the flophouse he hid in. The laptop contains schematics and
information hacked from several government systems. He was gathering classified information for some other source. They believe terrorists are planning some kind of strike in the capital,” the director concluded.

  “It doesn’t negate the fact CIA has its toes over the operational line and Homeland will call them to account for this.” RG assured Cat.

  Josh’s chair crashed over when he jumped to his feet. He slapped his hands down on the table. “I want a name. Who ordered agents who swear to protect U.S. citizens to hang back when we were under attack, twice?” Josh demanded. “Get me a name. Who made the decision? Someone will pay for Max.”

  Director Forbes eyed him coolly. “As I explained, Homeland is already looking into it.”

  Josh looked at RG, who warned him off with a flick of his eyes. Josh ignored him, leaned into the director’s space. “You tell Homeland if they don’t, I will.” His quiet words left no one in the room in doubt he meant it.

  “The FBI will continue sharing information. We must bring Maddox in. With him in custody, we’ll soon know if others are involved.” The director’s voice could have chilled a martini.

  “It’s probable Maddox was already working with someone, when he tried to breach the FBI spyware.” Josh righted his chair as he spoke.

  “I suggest you give Josh access to Maddox’s laptop. He’d know what programs were eroded, and if there’s a pattern, he’ll find it.” RG worked to lessen the strained atmosphere of the room.

  “I already hacked his files.” Josh surprised all three of them. “He tiptoed around the bureau’s spyware as if testing. My guess is he expected to sneak in, cop a peek, and get away clean, but my software alerted me. Best guess, he was reconnoitering your firewalls before he went after something specific.”

  “Possibly they traded helping Maddox get his revenge on you for some information he could give them.” RG nodded.

  “I don’t consider my principal safe under any scenario we hypothesize. Until we have a name for ‘they’ and all the euphemisms we’re using for assassins, we’re working in the dark. They have the advantage.” Cat pushed back her chair, stood. “It’s been a long night. We need a ride back to the loft. Are you driving, RG?”

  “Sure, I can drop you off.” He stood, shook the director’s hand, and merged with Cat and Josh as they left the room. “My rental’s in the car park on the third level.” He raised his voice.

  They entered the garage on level two. An SUV with tinted windows drove up beside them. RG hurried them inside. “Take the far exit,” he instructed the driver. In minutes, they cruised through the streets toward Josh’s loft.

  “Pull in here.” RG spoke again.

  The SUV entered another underground parking lot and drew up beside a late model gray sedan, its side windows tinted.

  RG introduced the driver to Josh and Cat. “It’s safe to talk here. We’ve disarmed any cams along the route. We’re switching to plan B.” He looked at Cat.

  “Understood.” She acknowledged.

  Josh looked from one to the other. “Plan B.”

  “Cat will take you somewhere safe. I trust you have fail safes on all your equipment at home.”

  “He’s covered. Josh reinforced his work after the shooting at the Senate Building. His 512 encryption is state of the art. An eye scan is necessary to access his log-in screen and all software.” She summated with conviction.

  “The hard drives in my loft will be destroyed within fifteen seconds if the proper procedure isn’t followed when opening them,” Josh added.

  “Using what protocols?” RG asked.

  “Triple precautions. A program completely wipes the hard drive and all memory. This will take 25 milliseconds, at which point the system will draw energy from the power source and literally burn the motherboard to bits. All complete in less than one second.”

  “If your hardware is destroyed, what happens to the software guarding the agencies?”

  “It’s still in place. I’ve reprogrammed it so back-ups are conducted regularly to a secure server using my unique 512 encryption. In addition, the program that destroys my systems also initiates a download of back-up spyware to another secure server in all the systems I protect. They’re set up to destroy anything fed into them or extracted from them if the right code isn’t used.”

  “We’ll try to collect your equipment before anyone else gets to it,” RG promised. “But, I can’t guarantee they’re not already tearing your place apart. Homeland’s had eyes on you from day one. However, if CIA agents are working outside their jurisdiction, then we could be royally screwed. They might try to seize your equipment, de-crypt your programs, and use them in order to bait the terrorists.”

  “If Josh’s enemy seizes his prototype, they will use it to draw him into the open, knowing he’d keep it out of their hands at any cost,” Cat stated.

  “I’ve ensured they can’t get ATP-1 even if they kill me. It would be useless as bait.” Josh’s lips pressed together, indicating he’d said all he would on the subject.

  On that serious note, the three of them stepped out of the SUV. RG stopped Josh before he slid into the passenger seat. “Cat knows what she’s doing. Trust her. We have the GPS locator on you at all times. Here are three burner phones, good for one call each. Cat knows my contact number and code. I’ll make sure Jake and Sam are updated. No one can know where you are, but me.”

  “So now you’re at risk, too. You’re putting your life on the line for me.” Josh looked at him steadily. “Thank you.” Lost for words, he held RG’s gaze.

  The older man’s eyes warmed for a second. “Buy me a ticket to Tahiti when this is over.” He turned to Cat. “Keep him safe.”

  He climbed back into the SUV beside his agent. “The FBI has pulled the tapes from any camera in the vicinity of the crash. If there’s any helpful information on them, I’ll get a message to you. We’ll head for Josh’s place. Anyone who picks us up when we leave the garage will think you’re still with us.”

  Cat climbed into the sedan and turned the keys in the ignition. Another set of keys sat on the console between them. She handed them to Josh. “Put these in your pocket in case we get separated from the sedan or each other.” Unspoken was the understanding if she went down, he’d be able to access the vehicle and run.

  Without another word, she drove away heading for the freeway. Several miles later, she took an exit ramp, broke free of the heavier traffic, and accelerated. Josh sank back into his seat and let his mind digest everything he’d heard, seen, and guessed.

  “Josh…” Cat’s soft voice reached across the darkened space to him. “I assume you have back-up somewhere for all your programs, codes, passwords. Somewhere you can access it, besides your phone.”

  “I do.” For an instant, he was tempted to share his secret with her, but caution kicked in and he held back. The information could get her killed.

  She pulled her smart phone from her pocket and tossed it in Josh’s lap. “Wipe the content of both our phones. Leave the GPS tracking device. Leave them turned on.” Within minutes, she took an exit off the highway and pulled into a rest stop for truckers. Lines of tractor trailers stretched in every direction. She sidled along the ones facing the north ramp back onto the highway.

  “Phones.” She held out her hand. Josh punched the button that destroyed all his codes and specially designed security apps. He handed them off with a sense of doom. One less back-up available. She dumped them in her lap. Pulling up inches from a neon blue cab vibrating as its powerful engine revved, she lowered her window, picked up the phones, and reaching high, tossed them into the narrow garbage receptacle built into the exterior of the cab.

  With a twist of her wrist, she widened the distance between them and the truck, made a U-turn, and headed back the way they’d come, racing up the exit for Highway 395 connecting to a southern route. “Relax, get some rest. We’ll be in the Florida Keys in about sixteen hours.”

  Josh leaned back against the headrest. Relax? Maybe when she d
id. The hours dripped by like blood from an intravenous, painstakingly the same. Gray pushed black from the sky, then coalesced into a pale sunrise. Cat stopped for gas. When he climbed back into the car, she handed him a cup of coffee and set a pack of stale beignets on the console between them. He dunked one in his coffee, took a bite, and fired an unforgiving glare at the attached restaurant as they drove away.

  Tension crept into the enclosed space along with the early morning light. He could see coffee glistening on Cat’s full lips. Their hands touched when they reached for a beignet at the same time, hers stroked from his knuckle to his wrist when she pulled it away. Her lips tightened and small lines appeared at the corner of her narrowed eyes. He took pleasure in knowing he affected her, handing her the beignet she’d abandoned. He breathed in the mossy depths of her scent. He watched her breasts lift and fall. Her breathing turned shallow when his gaze stayed fixed on her. They came down off their adrenaline highs, riding the numbing spell of tarmac. It seemed to him everything shut off in his body but his hormones; Cat seemed likewise affected.

  They crossed the border into Florida. Rain spattered the windshield.

  “Welcome to the sunshine state,” he murmured.

  She clicked on the wipers, glanced sideways, then away.

  She lasted two more hours before her eyelids drooped and stayed at half-mast. Her grip on the steering wheel whitened her knuckles.

  The inside of Josh’s cheek was raw. He gave up on control. “How about letting me drive for a while?”

  She straightened, lifted her chin, and firmed her shoulders. She gripped the wheel harder. “I’m good.” The rain poured down in torrents. Heavy wind gusts shoved at the sedan.

  “Well, I’m not. I’m bored out of my skull and would like a turn.” He offered up the only credible excuse she might buy. He shifted restlessly, hoping his expression sold the idea.

  The car slowed, she pulled onto the shoulder of the road. “Fine, then. Take the wheel.”