I put my hands behind my neck, hung my head, and started massaging my scalp. I didn’t know the answers. All I knew was that whatever was going on, none of it justified the government sending one of its operatives after Stanley and me. That was for sure.
After a few minutes of massaging, I stared at my best friend, wanting to question him telepathically. The more I thought about it, though, the more I feared Mick had given me all the answers he knew. On most of my classified missions I didn’t know squat beyond my directive. I hoped that wasn’t the case with Mick.
Since I couldn’t question my buddy, I directed my attention to getting out of the aquarium undetected and where to go from there. That kept my mind occupied for some time. After nearly an hour in the pine needles, Stanley popped to his feet and ran over to me.
“How much longer?” he whispered.
Mick motioned at me, signaling that he was going to scan the area and get an update.
Stanley bent and touched my shoulder. “I asked how much longer, Agent Chase?”
I pulled Stanley to the ground and whispered into his ear. “You need to do some soul-searching, Stanley. Tell me what’s really going on.”
He blinked at me. “I have, Agent Chase. I’ve told you a number of times.”
“That man is a government operative.” I motioned in the direction in which Mick had left. “Commissioned by the federal government to kill you for national security reasons.”
Stanley pushed up his glasses. “He was going to kill me? For real? Are you serious? I’m having a hard time believing that.”
I sighed. “Yes, Stanley, for real.”
“Then how come, Agent Chase, I’m still alive then?” Stanley smirked.
I threw my hands up.
Karla walked over and sat on the other side of Stanley. She placed her right arm around his shoulder. “You need to focus, Stanley. You do realize the severity of the situation, right?”
“I do,” he whined. “Trust me. What happened at the lighthouse anyway?”
“We must be missing something,” Karla said, looking at me.
I nodded in agreement.
She looked at the kid. “Give me your story one more time.”
“Again?” Stanley held up his hands. “What about the lighthouse? What happened there?”
“Later,” I said. “Tell us again how the death threats started. You may remember something new if you recount the story, or we may pick up on something new.”
After some more whining, Stanley told his story again. It took ten minutes and was exactly the same as his other rendition. Mick was back just after Stanley finished.
“It’s clear outside of the aquarium,” he said. “I found this.” He handed over my shirt.
Karla looked at me. “Anything new from the story?”
I shook my head and handed her my dry shirt.
“Me neither,” she said. “You keep the shirt; I’m fine.”
“The feds just left,” Mick said. “No one’s hanging around by the aquarium or parking garage. Most of the activity is at the eastern part of the wharf. A few local cops are there. I think they’re taking statements about the shots.”
“What’s the plan?” Karla asked. “Back to the Ford?”
“No way,” I said. “Feds will be looking for you, maybe watching the car. It’s not safe.”
“A taxi?” Karla said.
I shook my head. “A driver will remember us.”
“What then?” Karla asked.
“I have a plan,” I said. “Follow me.”
“I’ll take the rear,” Mick said.
“Can I hold one of the guns?” Stanley asked.
“Not a chance,” Mick said, stealing my words.
We weaved single file around the backside of the aquarium. Once we’d passed behind the bank of ticket windows, I led the group around the west side of the parking garage. We headed north along Aquarium Way and used the elevated crosswalk to go over Shoreline Drive.
Pine Street was on the other side of Shoreline. It was a touristy area with hip bistros and bars. Plenty of people were around, so we didn’t stick out and draw attention to ourselves.
I led the team into the first parking garage I saw. We took the stairs to the top level and I immediately started scanning for an unlocked vehicle. Naturally, I didn’t want to steal a car, but it seemed the only option at this point.
I found a nondescript, white Japanese car with the driver’s door unlocked. It was popular enough and would blend in nicely on the road. I popped the trunk latch and we loaded our weapons and Stanley’s backpack into the trunk, then we all piled in. Stanley and Karla sat in the back. I took the driver’s seat, and Mick took the passenger side. Within a minute I had it hotwired and was winding down and out of the garage.
When I hit street level, I turned to Mick and was about to ask him a question.
Stanley beat me to it, however.
CHAPTER 20
So you were really trying to kill me?” Stanley said, leaning between the front seats. “With real bullets and all?”
Mick looked at the kid like he was crazy, then over at me.
I shrugged.
“Yeah, Stanley,” Mick said, turning back. “I was sent to kill you. Really kill you. Like dead, dead.”
Stanley eased back in his seat, suddenly turning as red as Officer Kowalski. I guessed reality was finally starting to hit. Karla rolled her window all the way down. A good breeze flowed into the car. Stanley snapped out of it a few moments later and pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“Who are you texting?” Mick asked.
“Uh.” Stanley pushed up his glasses. “My father.”
“Put the phone away,” I said.
He didn’t.
Karla reached over and tried to swipe Stanley’s cell. The kid shimmied to the corner, out of her reach. His fingers kept typing.
“What are you telling your father?” I asked.
Stanley looked up, but kept texting. “Just that I’m safe.”
“Put it away,” Mick said.
“Right now,” I added. “Let’s not involve your dad until we know what’s going on.”
Stanley typed another word or two, pressed send, then tucked the cell away.
I sighed and turned my attention to Mick. I had a number of questions for him. Like, who he worked for, who his superiors were. But Gates was eating at my mind the most.
“So you don’t know Anfernee Gates? Never worked for or with him?”
He shook his head. “No idea who he is. Why do you keep mentioning him?”
“Because he was at the waterfront. He arrived around the same time you did. I assumed you two were working together, that he was a dirty agent and you were his accomplice.”
“Where was this Gates guy?” Mick asked.
“He was watching everything from the parking structure,” I said.
“He may have followed us there,” Karla said.
I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t spotted Mick tailing us, so maybe Gates was also good at being invisible.
“What’s Gates’ story?” Mick asked.
“He’s been on my tail the past two days, following my every move. It appears he’s investigating me for some reason. I’m not even sure which agency he works for, though there’s a wild rumor swirling that he works for the CIA. Can you believe that?”
“The Company?” Mick said, running his hand over his head. “You’re kidding?”
I looked at him. “That’s the rumor from one of the cops at Long Beach headquarters. But that’s crazy. Right?”
“Yes and no,” Mick said.
“What do you mean?”
“I sort of work for The Company, at least partly.”
“You do?”
He nodded. “I was recruited out of The Activity for a position with the SCS.”
The three-letter agency didn’t ring a bell. “What’s the SCS?” I asked.
Karla leaned forward. “The Special Collection Service, right?”
Mick nodded.
“Interesting,” I said. “Never heard of the organization.”
“Most people haven’t. It’s a joint intelligence-gathering organization, between the NSA and CIA.”
“Wait,” Stanley said, leaning forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Karla. “You’re telling me you’re employed by the SCS and you, Agent Chase, have never heard of the organization?”
Mick turned in his seat. “Are you not paying attention back there?”
I glanced at Stanley in the rearview mirror. “What’s wrong with you, anyway?”
“I need to get out, clear my head, Agent Chase. Plus, I need to go to the bathroom. Can we stop?”
“We’re not stopping,” I said.
Stanley sat back and fidgeted. His red face had now turned ashen. I guessed the enormity of his situation had fully hit him. Finally. Karla attempted to comfort him by patting his knee.
I looked at Mick. “So Gates obviously doesn’t work for the SCS, or you’d know him.”
“Actually, he could. I barely know anyone in the organization. And I’ve never met the executive branch. Most of us, operatives like me, are specialists in our respective fields and work alone. Sometimes we work in teams. We mainly stick to our individual directives. It’s a black book operation, so it’s all about deniability.”
I nodded. “Your directives, and even involvement in the organization, don’t really exist?”
“Absolutely,” Mick said. “We’re completely expendable.”
“You’re the sniper specialist?” I asked.
“Technically I’m the ammunition and weapons expert. I also train other agents in camouflage technique, how to move undetected, that sort of thing. Been with the SCS for a year and a half.”
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Stanley announced.
I ignored him. “Tell me about the specific directives concerning Stanley and me.”
Mick looked out the window for a moment, then back to me. “It all had to do with national security. Which is crazy, I know. My orders, which come via encrypted email, never elaborated on rationale. The SCS is 100 times worse than The Activity, Chase. Top down, don’t question a thing. Anyway, Stanley and you were apparently into some activities that seriously threatened our national security.”
Stanley snorted. We ignored him.
Mick continued. “His death was supposed to be via a single sniper shot. And it had to be after your death and house burning down. I was told to burn down your house because you had highly-sensitive government intel stored there, which needed to be destroyed immediately.”
“Have you ever had a directive like that?” Karla asked.
Mick shook his head. “Absolutely not. Nothing like it, ever. Never any domestic targets, that’s for sure.”
“I can’t comprehend the national security threat,” I said. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Neither could I,” Mick said. “So I questioned the directive. At least I was on my way to.”
I looked at my best friend. “What do you mean?”
“When I received the directive, like you, I was totally baffled. So that night I hopped on a red-eye flight to Baltimore. Our headquarters are in Beltsville, Maryland. I’d never questioned an order before and I wasn’t about to do it over the phone or via text. When I got off the plane that morning, my cell lit up. It had been off for the entire flight. My wife had left ten frantic voicemails. Plus, I had two texts. One was a picture text.” He scrolled through his phone, then handed me his cell.
I glanced at the picture and furrowed my brow. Mick’s wife and his two girls were curled up sleeping on a bed, safe and sound.
I put my eyes back onto the road. “I don’t follow.”
“That’s not a room in our house,” he said.
“Okay. I’m still not following, though.”
Mick took a deep breath. “Someone broke into our house that night, drugged my wife and children, and relocated them to an abandoned house about fifty miles away. They took that picture and sent it to me while I was in the air. Then they brought the girls back to their own bedroom. Julie woke up alone in the abandoned house, however. At first she was disoriented, then she turned frantic. They left her keys and car, no phone. She raced home just as the girls woke up. Julie has no recollection of the break-in or of the transportation to the abandoned house. The girls don’t even know anything happened.”
I didn’t say anything right away. Instead, I took a deep breath. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.
After a minute, I asked, “How’s Julie coping?”
“She’s not. And I’m not coping well either. The other text said this.” He read the text: “Complete your orders or you’ll never see them again. We did it once, we’ll do it again. This is your warning.”
Suddenly I felt the heat in the car. I rolled my window all the way down. Nobody said a word for about a minute.
Stanley broke the silence. He’d been fidgeting a lot during our conversation. “I’ve really got to go, guys. I’m sorry, but we must stop.”
I glanced at Karla in the rearview mirror. She nodded her approval, so I took the next exit off the 605 freeway and pulled into a Chevron station.
“Make it quick, Stanley,” I said. “We’re in a stolen car here. Plus, every fed in town is probably on the lookout for you.”
He hopped out and poked his head back in. “I need to get into the trunk. My backpack is in there with some cash. I need a Diet Coke.”
I pulled the trunk lever, nearly breaking it in the process. Stanley rummaged around in the trunk, then scampered toward the restroom with his backpack.
I turned to Mick. “Tell me more about the SCS.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Their history. I need to get an understanding of what we’re dealing with.”
Mick settled back into the seat. “It started post-Cold War, when the NSA became all the rage in the intelligence arena, which was a result of how effective they were in grabbing intelligence data out of midair. The NSA’s abilities made other intelligence agencies, like the CIA, which had too many human operatives, look almost unnecessary. Some people actually thought the CIA was doomed at the time, but a few high-ranking members of the NSA didn’t agree. They recognized their own limitations. They knew that there were many places in the world where roving satellites and stationary antennas couldn’t reach. They knew the value of having highly-trained human operatives on the ground.”
He paused and thought, then said, “To make a long story short, the organizations joined in ’78 and created the SCS. The idea was to combine the human ability of the CIA with the computer ability of the NSA.”
“These trained operatives,” I said, “would infiltrate foreign countries and set up spy gear?”
Mick nodded. “Exactly. The spies would smuggle in parabolic antennas and set them up in areas where roving satellites couldn’t reach. The whole purpose was to increase the eavesdropping ability of the NSA.”
“Where do you fit in to all this?” I asked.
“Eavesdropping like this went on for quite a while. By the late 1990s, however, things started changing.”
“How so?” Karla asked.
Mick shifted in his seat so he could see both of us. “The SCS calls it the shift from information ‘in motion’ to information ‘at rest’. Though countries had gotten better at encrypting information sent over airwaves, many had simply stopped sending it that way. Basically they knew better, because it was too risky. Instead, these countries started storing important intelligence information on computer databases, disks, hard drives, that sort of thing.”
Karla nodded. “I get it. Information at rest.”
“Right,” Mick said. “Now, having highly-trained spies on the ground was even more important because intelligence information had to be accessed remotely through cyberspace, the NSA specialty, or it had
to be accessed physically, the CIA specialty. And that’s the philosophy of the SCS. That’s why they’re the go-to intelligence organization these days.”
“So your job is to protect the spies?” I said.
“Precisely. On sensitive missions I would travel with an agent and basically be their eyes and ears on the ground. Protect them from a distance if anything went wrong on a mission. If they were being tailed or chased by authorities, that sort of thing.”
“You would neutralize the threat,” I said.
“Any threat,” Mick said, looking out his side window. “I even had authority to take down the agent if they were caught.”
Karla put her hand on Mick’s shoulder. “Did the agent know this?”
Mick turned and nodded. “I think everyone agreed it would be better that way. Nobody wanted to be tortured for information, then be killed.”
Silence filled the car for a few moments. I suddenly thought about Stanley. “By the way, the kid’s taking too long, isn’t he?”
“I should use the ladies room,” Karla said. “I’ll go see what the hold-up is.” She left the car and bounced her way to the Chevron station.
I turned to Mick. “You said something about an executive branch, and that you’ve never met them.”
“Yeah, the executive branch runs the SCS. There are three members from the NSA, three from the CIA, and a leader named the Chairman. The chairman’s role is a three-year stint that rotates between the two agencies. I don’t know any members of the executive branch or their names.”
“That’s odd, not knowing anyone’s name or position.”
Mick subtly shook his head. “The more I realized the sensitivity of the missions I was assigned, the more it made sense. Since deniability is the unofficial code of the SCS, the less I knew of the executive branch, the better.”
The Greatest Good Page 16