“I agree,” O’Brian said. “Thank you for your help. I know you—”
“No need to convince us,” Evarts interrupted. “We’re on the first flight out in the morning. I want to get out of here before the news breaks about an aborted attack.”
O’Brian nodded agreement. “Greg, Patricia, don’t think we’re unappreciative for what you’ve done. You’ve been a big help, but what happens next will be highly classified and Greg’s security clearance has expired. You can’t be further involved. If we handle this properly, the news will never break. Tomorrow will just be another Friday in Washington, D.C.” O’Brian smiled. “Prudence, however, would dictate that you get out while the getting’s good.”
“Excellent advice.” Evarts smiled at his wife “So … let’s enjoy our meal before we make our reservations and prepare to skedaddle.”
Baldwin lifted her wine glass and they toasted to their departure.
“I hate to be a party pooper,” Hudson said, “but I think you should continue to take precautions. I understand that you’re rich.”
Evarts nodded, wondering where this was going.
“I think a private jet is in order. It will make my life easier since your safety is now my concern. If you fly private, I can detail two agents to watch you, but if you fly commercial, I’ll need to do background checks on your fellow passengers and have a much larger detail assigned to escort you through the airport.”
“Then it seems the government should pay,” Baldwin said. “It would be a real sign of your appreciation … and save you money.”
“True, “Hudson said, “but required approvals would mean you couldn’t leave until mid-next week.”
“Patricia,” O’Brian said, “approval may not be forthcoming. For obvious reasons, your contributions will also be highly classified. Instead of money, your thank you will come in the form of a letter of commendation signed by the Secretary of Defense. It will be in both of your names but filed with Greg’s Army service record. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to show it or mention it to anyone.”
“Too bad,” Greg said. “It might have been helpful in putting me in good stead again with the mayor and city council. At the moment, they are none too pleased with me.”
“I’ll see if I can get an unclassified version sent to your city leaders,” O’Brian said.
Hudson leaned toward Evarts. “About the—”
Evarts interrupted, “We’ll charter a plane, Mr. Hudson. On our dime. No problem. We were just ribbing you.”
“Then let me add our thanks for your assistance. Now, I understand you’re using aliases.”
“We are,” Evarts answered.
“Charter the plane using the alias and I suggest you continue taking precautions until I call you with an all-clear message.”
Baldwin jumped in. “After this weekend, we intend returning to our respective jobs using our real names. We have a hideaway residence. Do you suggest we use it, or can we return to our home?”
Hudson thought it over. “The bounty will probably be lifted in the aftermath, but until I can get confirmation, don’t return home. Use your alternative residence until I can make sure everything is sealed up on this side.”
“I’d prefer you said just go back to normal,” Baldwin said. “How worried should we be?”
“Cautious, not worried,” Hudson said. “I’ll have the L.A. office assign a couple agents to you until we can be certain that you’re in the clear.”
“I have an entire police department around us,” Evarts said. “Two agents won’t add that much more protection.”
“They’ll provide a secure means of communication from my office to you. They won’t be intrusive.”
“Fine. Put them on my wife and watch her at UCSB. They won’t let my officers on campus.”
“Understood … and a good use of the resource.”
They all lifted their drinks and Hudson made a celebratory toast.
Thank goodness, this whole episode was nearly over, and their lives would soon get back to normal.
Chapter 73
After entering their leased apartment inside the Hope Ranch, Evarts immediately checked the television. It worked. He wanted to make sure they could get the news this evening. With luck, there would be no breaking news about bombs going off in the capital or in public transportation.
Before leaving Santa Barbara, they had ordered the utilities turned on and left instructions for the installation of a high-end security system. The second-floor apartment had a single entrance. Good and bad. Only one doorway to defend, but no second way out. Beside electronic alarms, the security firm had replaced the bedroom and entry wood doors with steel doors faced in wood. The bedroom was equipped with a land line, computer modem/router, and two-way radios. With all those communication systems, plus cell phones, they should always be able to always communicate with the outside world. Fiberscope cameras had been installed inside the apartment, along the outside walkway, and above the rear windows to view the parking area and garages. He checked the closet. As requested, someone from the department had prepositioned a small arsenal. With reinforced interior walls, the bedroom could serve as an adequate safe room.
Secrecy was still their best protection, and they had been careful enough that no one should know they were back in town. The private jet allowed them to fly incognito into the Santa Barbara Airport. They had paid a taxi in cash to drop them at the Santa Barbara Biltmore Resort. From there, they used a pre-positioned rental car to drive to Hope Ranch. Evarts spotted no one surveilling the resort or following their rental.
He had never flown private before. It was a different world. You just pulled right up to the plane whenever you wanted, bypassing airport security. The plane departed whenever you told the pilot you were ready to go. No waiting, no jostling, no lost luggage. Comfortable seats with plenty of leg room, good food, top notch liquor, topped off with a sense of being special. Evarts told himself not to get used to this extravagance. Despite his wealth, private jets somehow violated his middle class upbringing.
While Evarts had been checking apartment security, Baldwin had been surveying the kitchen and supply cabinets.
“We have staples like coffee, liqueur, paper products, canned goods, and frozen foods, but the refrigerator is practically empty. Just condiments. There’s nothing in this place that could go bad. What should we do? Shop or order delivery?”
The officers who stocked the apartment, had no idea when they would return, so they bought nothing spoilable. Baldwin’s question was interesting. What was the greater risk? Being seen in a supermarket or a delivery person recognizing them? They were both well-known residents with important positions in the community. They could drive to Oxnard and shop anonymously with false identification and credit cards. Evarts decided delivery would be less risky. Besides, he was tired.
“Delivery. Do we have enough for tonight?”
“If you can make do with a frozen meal.”
“Let’s put it off. Mañana?” When she nodded, he asked, “Can you unpack us? I’d like to call Standish to find out what she’s discovered.”
“Sure, but don’t let her know we’re in town.”
“I won’t. If there’s no bad news, I’m going to work on Monday.”
She nodded with a worried look on her face.
Evarts pulled out a burner cell phone and punched the direct line to Standish’s basement empire.
When she answered with a mere hello, Evarts said, “Good afternoon, Commander. Any news?”
“Where are you?”
“Away.”
“Good. Stay gone. We’re surveilling two suspicious teams that arrived yesterday. They’ve been cruising your home and our police station. Probably want to put an eye on you for another assault. They’re Egyptian nationals.”
“How did you identify them?”
“A detective was walking around the block having a smoke. He spotted a rental car cruising the station unusually slow. Two rubbernecking
male passengers. When they returned in about fifteen minutes, he grew suspicious, so we put a tail on them. They made a continuous loop between the station and your house. The first team was relieved by another pair after a few hours.”
“Do you know where they’re staying?”
“Yes, sir. We tailed the first pair back to the Holiday Inn Express on the north end of town. We have both pair under surveillance.”
“Excellent work,” Evarts said. “Get a court order to—”
“Done,” Standish interrupted. “The rooms are wired for sound and video.”
“Nice work.”
“Not necessarily. So far, all we’ve gotten is four men enjoying a romp in Western depravity.”
Evarts laughed. “Understood.”
“Chief, one more thing, the mayor has a message. She wants you to make yourself scarce. Seems the natives are restless due to all the shootings in our fair city. She doesn’t want another incident.”
“She’d rather have terrorists roaming her streets?”
“Perhaps … we’re under strict orders to observe only. She doesn’t want them provoked.”
“Yeah, if they were to take shots at my wife or me, that would be entirely our fault.”
“Understood.” Her tone was sympathetic. “I have other information for you. Research and investigative information.”
“Okay, tell me.”
“Nothing earth shattering. If you want, it can wait until your return.”
“If the mayor has her way, that may be a long time. Go ahead.”
“First, we learned nothing from the men we arrested after the last assault. They talked freely but knew next to nothing.”
“Jim Lewis already told us that would be the case. By the way, he was killed by a sniper in New York City.”
“What the hell?” Standish exclaimed. “Who?”
“Not a clue. What else have you got?”
“First, the three who committed suicide had served in special forces. Good military records. Nothing that would indicate that on discharge they would pursue a career in crime. All Freemasons, and each employed by a different company. Here’s where it gets interesting. All their firms were owned by another outfit called Black & White Enterprises, headquartered in Edinburgh.”
She paused to get his reaction, so he told her what she already knew. “Masonic lodges use a black and white tile pattern on the floor of their halls.”
“Correct. Black & White Enterprises is privately held, but they have an advisory board much like a board of directors. Every director is a mason. The enterprise owns at least twenty corporations spread across the globe. All successful, all in basic commodities like metals, plastics, papers, and essential industrial supplies. Nothing sexy, nothing noteworthy. But we discovered—almost by accident—that Black & White is owned by a prominent New York hedge fund. Now, for the really interesting part, that hedge fund manages nearly two billion dollars for a family in Scotland who are members of a very wealthy clan; a clan that keeps an extraordinarily low profile. The clan invests primarily outside of Scotland through a myriad of trusts, private companies, and hedge funds. Other than a few pristine historic castles, the clan does not flaunt it’s wealth.”
“I presume you’ve discovered that the medieval Templars fled France in 1307 in a fleet of eighteen ships. Legend has it they landed in Scotland with much of their portable treasure.”
“And found sanctuary within the Scottish Freemasons. Yes. We found all that. I presume you’re thinking along the same lines as us.”
“What line would that be?” Evarts asked.
“That treasure found its way to Clan McFraser, who owns Black & White though a hedge fund cut-out. That’s not the clan’s only holding, however. They own many other companies, vast tracts of real estate, and many landmark commercial buildings across the globe.”
“Good work,” Evarts said. “Anything else?”
“One of the companies owned by Black & White is Night Work, Inc. They’re the largest janitorial service in the world. Three years ago, they had a major civil suit filed against them for industrial espionage. The claimant was an Egyptian company with U.S. headquarters in D.C. They claimed Night Work did an onsite hack of their computer system. The case was settled with some iron-clad nondisclosures.” She took a deep breath. “Can you use your D.C. connections to find out if this Egyptian company is a front for the Ikhwan?”
“Have you tried?” Evarts asked concerned.
“No. We were afraid the queries could be traced. We waited for you.”
“Smart. And yes, I’ll have someone check this out. Give me the particulars.”
She did.
Evarts asked, “Anything on the Baltimore mob angle?”
“Very little. A paid gig. Not much more. Don’t take this to the bank, but Baltimore PD says the bounty has been withdrawn.”
“Could be disinformation,” Evarts said thoughtfully. “We do have two teams roaming our town looking for me.”
“Egyptians, not mobsters.”
“What do you make of that?” Evarts asked.
There was a long pause.
“They brought the contract inhouse. You’re still on their radar.”
Chapter 74
Before eating, they had checked the news on both cable and the internet to find nothing about bombings or arrests in Washington, D.C. No news was exceptionally good news. Evarts wanted to call O’Brian, but he assumed he would be busy for the next few hours. Besides, O’Brian had their burner cell numbers and would call them when he had an opportunity to talk.
Evarts shared everything with Baldwin over a dinner. Their meal consisted of frozen fettuccine alfredo with chicken and broccoli, paired with an expensive white wine. They made dessert out of dethawed key lime pie. The frozen dishes reminded Evarts of his bachelor days only a couple years prior.
“What do you think?” Baldwin asked after Evarts finished explaining his call to Standish.
“I think we’re lucky to have snuck back into town.”
“You’re obfuscating.”
“Because I don’t know what to think,” Evarts said. “Those Egyptians are obviously not a welcoming committee. We could easily arrest them, but others would follow. O’Brian and the FBI thwarted an Ikhwan attack and probably executed a major takedown of their organization in D.C. and Jakarta, and our government will soon have a confidential informant high up in the Templars.” Evarts fidgeted with his fork. “O’Brian will be leery about helping us deliver a major blow to the Templars, especially if he thought it might jeopardize his new asset inside the Templars.”
She smiled. “You know, I never really liked shootouts as much as you thought I did.”
The comment caught Evarts by surprise. “You have something in mind. What?”
“Money. Standish found a lot of it. Let’s make some of it disappear.”
“Interesting. But for that to do us any good, we’d need the cash drain to be public … and something we personally engineered. Otherwise it won’t get the Ikhwan off our back.”
“Right … so how do we do it without exposing Smith?”
Evarts laughed. “This was your suggestion.”
She threw her hands up. “Greg, I do big ideas. Details are on you.”
Evarts thought. Neither of them was a financial whiz. Within his immediate acquaintances, he knew only one person who understood financial forensics.
“I need to call O’Brian,” Evarts said.
In a few moments, O’Brian answered. “Sorry, Greg, I don’t have time for a debrief. Call you tomorrow.”
Evarts spoke quickly to stop O’Brian from hanging up. “I need your daughter-in-law’s help. Immediately.”
“That’s why you’re calling?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“To engineer a financial debacle for our errant brothers.”
O’Brian would know he meant the Templars. Masons often referred to each other as brothers.
“I can�
��t let you drag an Army non-com into a civilian affair.”
Evarts said. “You owe us. You dragged civilians into a military affair.”
“Touché. Okay. I got to go, but she’ll call you first thing in the morning.”
The phone went dead.
“Well?” Baldwin said.
“She’ll call in the morning. It’s late on the East Coast and she’s been working around the clock. In the meantime, I need to figure out what to do about the Egyptian nationals cruising our town. I’m considering making myself visible to them.”
“What?” Baldwin almost bounded out of her chair.
“Listen, Standish has learned nothing from the taps because they had nothing to report to their superiors. Trish, if they spot me, communications will begin. Maybe we can learn something.”
“Hell, no. The Army and Templars using us as bait was bad enough, but now you want to toss us out like chum to circling sharks. That’s a damn stupid idea.”
“Sorry, you’re right.” He sighed and thought some more but came up empty. “You got any ideas?”
She didn’t answer at first, but eventually said, “No. Maybe we’ll need to try your scheme … but only if Wilson can’t come up with a financial stratagem. Let’s hope she can, and it pulls their attention away from us.”
Evarts nodded. It made sense. In the meantime, he had another idea.
“Do you feel safe?” he asked. “I mean, right at the moment?”
“Yes,” Baldwin answered carefully. “The nation’s capital is saved, no one knows we’re in town, our hidey-hole is secure, and we have a plan.” She shrugged. “Until someone spots us, we’re in a calm.”
Evarts grimaced. “You mean like a calm before a storm?”
Her expression turned serious. “I fear so.”
They both finished off their wine.
“Is this going where I think it’s going?” Baldwin asked.
“Well, I was trying to take this into the bedroom.”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) Page 30