It took about forty-five minutes for London to reach the trees bordering the cottage. There were no vehicles by it and no road leading to it. At the dock, he saw a small sloop, perhaps twenty-eight or thirty feet, and a somewhat larger working oyster boat. The oyster boat was tied up to the dock and the sloop, which he recognized as Slaider’s Blue Belle, was tied to the oyster boat. A group of seven fishermen were working on and in the sloop, cleaning, carrying items out and in a pile on the ground beside the dock.
Special Agent London did not like not knowing where Campbell was, so he called for infrared coverage of the area. However, the activity of the cleanup detail assigned to Slaider’s sloop was the only heat source detected, except for him. There was nothing more for London to do but wait and watch. He saw two divers go into the water to inspect Blue Belle below the water line. The cleanup crew continued with their work until dark. When full night had arrived and smoke would not be detected, the men incinerated the material piled next to the dock. The ashes were racked and shoveled into the bay.
Still there was no sign of Campbell. London confirmed that Campbell’s boat was still hidden in the brush. Long after the cleanup crew had retired, London finally fell asleep.
London awoke with the morning light and the sound of men rising from below deck on the oyster boar. Once again they moved to Blue Belle and continued their methodical cleaning by carefully washing the deck and deck fittings. Everything above was washed twice from what he could see. London wondered at the meticulous cleaning operation, so reminiscent of a criminal trying to remove all evidence of his having been at the scene of a crime. But what crime could have been committed on Blue Belle? What had Slaider been up to now? he wondered.
By 11:00 a.m., Slaider himself came to the dock where the men were working. By their once again saluting Slaider and by their military bearing once he arrived, it was clear that the men were dressed to disguise who and what they truly were. Slaider gave the sloop a thorough inspection and seemed satisfied. By noon he dismissed the men. The orders must have been more comprehensive than a simple dismissal. When the men turned and went to the cottage, London watched as the men began emptying the building of electronic gear. They packed everything into the oyster boat. That boat too was evidently in disguise.
It was clear that this site was being shut down. Whatever purpose it had served was finished. Over a period of about two hours, the cottage was stripped of all communications, security, and surveillance equipment. Finally, the men exchanged the positions of the oyster boat and the sloop. After a last consultation with General Slaider, the commander of the detail crossed the deck of the Blue Belle, and jumping onto the oyster boat, ordered it under way. By three o’clock only General Slaider remained by the now-abandoned cottage.
Special Agent London did not like this. He called to see if there was any evidence of Campbell’s boat leaving or on the water. There was none. Campbell was still here, but for what purpose? London felt a growing foreboding. Why was Slaider so unprotected? What was Campbell up to?
London was situated on the downstream side of the cottage. He decided now to work his way around to the upstream side, the direction from which Campbell would be coming. It was a virtual certainty now to London that Slaider was Campbell’s purpose for being there. How Campbell knew Slaider would be there was a surprise to London, although with the resources Campbell could throw at tracking Slaider, it did not seem like an impossible task, just difficult, as it had been for him.
As an FBI special agent, London was expected quickly and correctly to analyze complex situations and choose the best course of action. He knew, as all special agents knew, they would be second-guessed later. So much of field work was invented as it happened, and those who survived were the ones who were good at quick assessments and decision. There were always so many variables and so many unknowns. Would Slaider sail out today? Helicopter out? Surely he would not be hiking out. What was Campbell up to?
London decided to settle himself in an elevated position once he was between the cottage and Campbell’s boat. He found a suitable tree and climbed it, making sure he had cover as well as a decent view for several tens of yards around him, plus a view of the cottage and the surrounding lawn. And then he waited again.
The hours passed and Slaider remained in the cottage. London heard and saw nothing unusual from his perch in the tree. Two more hours passed. It was now dusk, and London was worried about the night. He had not brought his night-vision binoculars. Perhaps Campbell had. He was no longer happy with his location. He bent down to get a better look at the very edge of the lawn surrounding the cottage when he heard a thud come from the tree directly behind where he had been leaning. Turning, he saw bits of bark splattering from holes suddenly appearing where his head had been a second earlier. Someone had taken several shots at him and his timely bending had saved his life.
London pushed off from the tree, plunging to the ground and rolling to minimize the shock of landing. Almost simultaneous with his leap to the ground he heard two more splatters in the bark from where he had just been sitting. Campbell.
Judging from his position in the tree and assuming that Campbell had spotted him and moved to get his best firing location, which would be directly at him, London estimated Campbell’s direction if not his distance. He had not heard the report of the weapon, so either it had a silencer, or Campbell had taken a long shot. The silencer would be for close-up work. He knew of Campbell’s military training. He bet on the long shot. Campbell had the skills. Only dumb luck had saved his life and London knew it. But the long shot meant London had some time to reposition himself. He quickly found a spot with good cover, low and rocky.
London quickly rethought Campbell’s motives. If it was Campbell, by trying to take him out, Campbell had revealed he was here for a killing. This was going to be an assassination. He was here to kill Slaider, London concluded.
Now, what to do? He quickly decided to call for backup. He took out his communicator and made the emergency call for a Navy helicopter extraction team. They would be at the cottage in no more than a half hour. A half-hour. A police launch could get there sooner. He called 911, identified himself as a camper and that someone had taken several shots at him. He demanded a police launch be sent immediately. London decided it was too complicated to try to explain matters to the police. He would deal with that when they arrived. The police locked into his location using his ping from his communicator. There would have a boat there in fifteen minutes.
Jesus, how did he get into this mess? He was supposed to find something actionable on the general, something they could indict him for, and instead he’s here risking his life to protect the son of a bitch. He knew he was no match for a man with Campbell’s training. He just needed to buy time for help to arrive. He needed to get to the cottage and warn Slaider of the danger outside. The lawn surrounding the cottage would be a killing zone if he tried to cross it. If he called out to Slaider in an attempt to warn him, that would undoubtedly bring him to the door or a window to see what was going on and would make him an easy target for Campbell.
Perhaps if he shouted or fired at one of the cottage windows, breaking it, the sound of the pistol and the sound of the breaking glass would be enough to alert that old soldier to danger. Or Slaider might not hear the pistol, only his shout or the breaking glass, come to the window and once again make a good target.
Dusk had come. The sun was setting, and London saw a light go on in one of the rooms in the cottage. Not good. Campbell would know exactly where in the building Slaider was. And he would only need one shot. London decided that he had to get into the cottage to warn Slaider. He was now between the cottage and Campbell. He would run like hell through the cover of the woods to flank the cottage and enter it from the rear. Campbell would probably be staying on the side of the cottage with the lit-up room. He might see me and get off a shot, he reasoned. He might not see me. If I sit here, Slaider will be dead in the next five minutes.
Specia
l Agent London took a deep breath. “Well, this is what I get paid for,” he said to himself. He stripped off his jacket and left everything on the ground except his handgun. He had already called for help, so he left his communicator as well. He didn’t want to be carrying anything that would weigh or slow him down. Then rising to a crouching position, he began to run quickly through the brush and trees to the upstream side of the woods bordering the cottage.
Nothing. No shots. So far so good. He quickly made it to the woods at the rear of the cottage. Here was the deadly test of his plan. The dash from the rear woods to the rear of the cottage. Why had there been no shots? Perhaps Campbell was too busy changing his own position. Campbell now knew London was there, that he had missed his shots, and that he would have to be cautious in a way that his long wait to make his move on Slaider did not anticipate. Campbell would have to do something to get Slaider to a window or door while also protecting himself now.
How much time did he have to get into the cottage and warn Slaider? Seconds, London figured.
London once again took a deep breath, centered himself, and this time crossed himself. He had not been to church since he left his family home, but the circumstances now seemed just right for remembering the kindness of God to those needing protection from evil. He then burst from the cover of the trees and dashed toward the rear door of the cottage. No shots. He burst through the door. Falling with the door as it ripped from its hinges. He could see Slaider down the hallway as he rolled to his feet.
Slaider had been walking toward the well-lit living room when London burst in. Slaider turned toward him, then dropped the glass of milk he had taken from the kitchen and ran to the living room, not realizing London was his protection not his assassin.
“General Slaider, I’m FBI, get to the floor now. On the ground NOW!” London screamed.
London charged to the living room when he heard the sound of breaking glass where one of the living room windows had been. Slaider turned at the sound, confused, moving toward it, not knowing from which direction danger was coming. From London’s position hurtling into the room he saw Slaider framed by the broken window in the background—a perfect target. In a desperate act he hurled himself at the general. The last thing he heard was a cry of pain.
129
Slaider bent over the FBI agent. He thought he knew the man but was not sure. He quickly assessed the man’s condition. A bullet had entered just below the left clavicle near the shoulder joint and exited the back between the left shoulder blade and the spine. He had no time to check for a pulse but it did not look good. He quickly grabbed the agent’s service revolver. He then crawled along the floor until he could pull out the electric cords to each of the lamps in the room. Slaider returned to the agent on the floor to determine if there was anything he could do for the man who had evidently taken a bullet intended for him.
He rolled the agent over and checked for a pulse in the carotid artery. He couldn’t detect anything, but if the pulse were weak, as it would undoubtedly be under these circumstances, Slaider knew it might be difficult to find his pulse. He placed his ear close to the agent’s mouth and could hear gurgled, shallow, irregular breaths. The agent was still alive, barely. Slaider rolled the man on to his side, believing that would make breathing easier. He also thought it might make it less likely for the man to choke on any blood or vomit that might come up.
Then he turned his attention to the attacker.
He had not heard a shot when the window broke, so he inferred that whoever was out there, at the time of the shooting had been some distance from the cottage. The assassin would surely be coming in now. Having seen the lights go out one by one, it would be clear that his shot had missed. He would have to try to finish the job or leave. Slaider decided a distant shot that almost did the job meant a professional. Professionals are paid to get the job done, not leave. He assumed the killer would try to finish him off in the cabin.
Slaider was reluctant to leave the agent, but decided he had to move. He had to anticipate what the killer would do next and counter it. He had found no communicator on the agent so he did not know if backup had been called for or why the agent had been at the cottage in the first place. Suddenly his secret location in the woods had become the most current worst-kept secret. He would worry about that later.
Slaider lay on the floor, trying to work up a plan. Coming into the cottage with his target now forewarned would not be an easy task to achieve safely. He would also assume that Slaider was armed by now. Slaider could simply arrange himself in one of the rooms with only one entrance and wait for the killer to try to find him. When he entered the room, Slaider would kill him.
But that could take time and the agent downstairs did not have a lot of time. What is it Sun Tzu said in The Art of War? “All warfare is based on deception. When you are able to attack, you must seem unable; when using your forces, you must appear inactive; when you are near, you must make the enemy believe you are far away; when far away, you must make him believe you are near.” And even more to the point, Slaider remembered “What is essential in war is victory, not prolonged operations.”
Slaider would have to go on the offensive. He would find the killer first and kill him. He would leave the cottage and stalk the stalker. Just as Slaider had arrived at that plan he heard a sound from the second floor of the cottage. Too late. The killer was already in the cottage. He had time to get out by the front door and take his chances in the woods. But when the killer got downstairs and discovered the agent on the floor, he would undoubtedly finish him off. Slaider would not leave him to that fate.
He quickly looked around the room. He dragged the agent to a wall. As he tugged, the agent’s muscles stiffened and he moaned softly. Slaider quickly stopped and bending close to the man whispered in his ear to keep as silent as he could. He felt the agent’s muscles relax again as he propped the man against the wall. Slaider then move to the dining room on the opposite side of the hallway and waited.
In a few moments Slaider heard the faint steps, steps he would not have heard had he not been straining his senses to detect them. They came down the stairs and moved toward the living room end of the hallway. Just then, a groan of pain came from the living room. The sound of movement in the hall stopped. Slaider poked his head out slightly from the arched opening to the dining room to see if he had a shot or not. As he did two quick shots rang out from the hallway. One struck him in the right hip, the bullet going through the wall. The other shot grazed his ear as he pulled is head back following the first shot. He fell into the hallway to the floor. The pain of the hip wound caused him to drop the agent’s handgun as he fell.
Campbell moved down the hall slowly. He had night-vision goggles on. He approached Slaider cautiously, bending down when he was standing next to Slaider to pick up the handgun he had dropped. He quickly determined that Slaider’s wound was not mortal. He turned to the living room from where the groan had come seconds earlier. He quickly found Special Agent London. He walked over carefully holding his handgun at the ready. He assessed the agent’s condition and determined he was no threat. He returned to General Slaider. Taking off his night-vision goggles, he felt around the wall at the entrance to the dining room and, finding the switch, turned the lights on. They were more than enough to illuminate the hallway where Slaider lay.
“Well. More than I could have hoped for. Face to face so you will know exactly why you are going straight to hell and who sent you there,” Campbell said.
Slaider managed to arrange himself into a sitting position. He just looked at the man standing above him, determined to be his executioner. Slaider said nothing.
“Nothing to say, General? Who’s your friend in the other room? I hadn’t counted on him.”
Slaider struggled to find a comfortable position. The wound in his hip felt like it was on fire. “Fuck you. If you’re going to kill me, do it. Why drag this out? It’s so unprofessional,” Slaider said.
“Professional? This isn’
t professional. This is personal, General Slaider. I am Thornton Campbell. Captain Sandy Campbell.”
Slaider looked puzzled. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Surely you’ve come across my name in your briefings.”
Slaider thought for a few moments. “Oh yes. Sandy Campbell, American Petroleum Institute, Navy Seal, Black ops. Oh yes. A very tough guy. And so very deeply in bed with the fossil fuel crowd. And tell me what the point of this is. Killing me won’t change anything.”
“You think not. You may be right, but I am still the agent of karma. You see, I know a bit about you as you a bit about me. We both served in the Far East. We both learned to respect their ways. We both learned to respect the mystery of karma. Today I am its agent. Today you pay for all your evil deeds, General. All the karmic seeds you planted in the past year have ripened here and now. It’s time for a reckoning. It’s time to wash some of your bad karma away. It’s time for you to die.” Campbell raised his handgun and placed the barrel of his gun into General Slaider’s mouth. “Look at me,” Campbell yelled. “I am vengeance.”
A shot rang out and Campbell slumped to the floor, shot in the head, blood bursting from the exit wound raining down on Slaider. Stunned, Slaider turned toward the sound of the shot, thinking somehow the wounded agent had pulled it off. Instead he saw the upper half of the body of a police officer sticking through the window in the living room, his handgun still extended in his hands, frozen for a moment in time.
By the time the helicopter extraction team had arrived fifteen minutes later, Special Agent London’s condition had been stabilized by the police emergency medical technician that accompanied the first response to London’s 911 call. Special Agent London was on his way to Bethesda Naval Hospital, where there was a team of surgeons waiting for him. General Slaider left on a second police launch twenty minutes after London along with the body of Sandy Campbell. Slaider was taken to the hospital. Campbell was taken to the police morgue.
On Deception Watch Page 54