Rules of Engagement

by Ken Fite

  When he was done, he checked his work and then wiped sweat away from his forehead. Quickly, I grabbed the ropes and held on tight as I jumped, twisted my body, and wrapped my legs around the guy’s neck.

  He struggled to breathe as I squeezed tighter and heard shouts from the other two men in the building—the man somewhere behind me and the guy posted at the door. I twisted my legs hard, breaking his neck.

  The guy’s body went limp and, as I loosened my legs, he fell onto the floor. I let go of the ropes as I breathed hard, and the light from behind me lowered onto the man’s body. Now two of them were dead—the driver of the Town Car and the guy on the bike. I felt a fist held to my back followed by a sharp piercing sensation. I twisted my body from the pain, not fully understanding what was happening to me.

  The fist was held in place for a long time, then removed. The shouts became muffled. My legs grew numb.

  My body went limp and I hung from the two ropes as I looked up and saw streams of white as the guy at the door ran toward me, still holding his light. Sounds became distorted. I tried to stay focused on the light as it swirled in front of me. It left a long trail as it moved, and I blinked several times as I watched it. The two men stood in front of me, and I felt one of them kick me in the stomach as I hung there, helpless.

  Another kick to my stomach knocked the wind out of me. My body swung back. I struggled to breathe.

  I tried to look up again. As I did, a fist struck the left side of my face. I immediately felt the taste of blood in my mouth as I dropped my head and felt one of the men grab my hair and bring a knee into my chest.

  “What do you want from me?” I said in a low whisper, unsure if anyone could hear me. My own voice sounded loud in my head and echoed as the man holding onto my hair forced me to look up at him.

  My head was spinning—and looking the man in the face—I spat blood on him as he let go of my head.

  Taking a step back, he barked an order. “Fill the syringe and double the dosage.”

  The words were muffled, but I heard them. They echoed in my mind as I wondered what the hell they had done to me. I tried to get to my feet, but all I could do was hang there. I felt one of the guys check the ropes secured to my wrists. I looked up, and the other guy moved his light to my face, and I looked away.

  “I said fill the syringe and double the dosage—do it now!” he yelled as I felt myself losing consciousness.

  “No,” the other guy said. “Dimitri will be here shortly.”

  The voices overlapped each other in my head as whatever they had given me continued to work its way throughout my body. It was becoming harder to keep my eyes open. I managed to look up one more time.

  “Fine,” the other guy said and stepped forward, taking one more swing against my face.

  My head snapped to the right and my body went limp. The sounds, the lights—everything went dark.

  TWENTY-SIX

  CHARLIE REDDING POINTED to an image that had been enlarged on one of the two large monitors on his desk. Jami stood next to him and shook her head in disbelief. “Those are the men from today,” she said as she tapped the face of one of the guys. “He was the driver of the Town Car.” Jami pointed to the other guy. “And this was the man on the motorcycle who put Blake in the back of the Town Car earlier.” Turning back, she looked Charlie over and asked, “How did you get access to this image?”

  Redding stood back, one hand tucked under an arm and the other touching his beard as he studied the image. “Blake called me earlier. Said he needed my help. Told me that a couple of guys were near his apartment looking for him a few days ago. They roughed up some homeless guy, trying to figure out where he lived.” Charlie kept rubbing his short, graying beard as his eyes shifted to Jami. “He asked if I could call in a favor and get access to the CCTV footage from that area from one of my former intelligence buddies. Guess he didn’t want to go through DDC or the FBI because of their focus on the ransomware attack.”

  “May I?” asked Jami as she gestured to the desk chair.

  Charlie nodded and pulled the chair out as Jami grabbed her phone and sat down. “Morgan,” she said a few moments later, cradling the phone against her ear while typing on the keyboard, “I’m sending you an image of the two men from tonight. The guy on the left was the driver of the Town Car that Blake killed. The one on the right is the biker who took him away in the car. Can you ID the men based on this photo?”

  Morgan said he’d get to it after he tracked down the vehicle. After disconnecting the call, Jami stood and turned to Redding. “I have DDC looking into the image.” She slipped her cell into a pocket and pulled back her sleeve to look at her watch. “Two men will be arriving shortly to meet up with me here, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s fine,” replied Redding as he motioned to the two empty chairs. Jami forced a smile and sat down.

  She looked up at the man as he took a seat, and asked, “Mr. Redding, how do you know Blake?”

  “Call me Charlie. And can I get you anything?” Jami shook her head as Charlie paused before continuing. “I’ve known Blake a very long time. Family friend. Worked with his father at the ATF back in Chicago.”

  “Ben,” said Jami softly.

  Redding nodded. “Ben Jordan. A great man.” Charlie paused, his eyes moving away from Jami as he looked across the room and a flood of memories rushed over him. “I believe I met you at the funeral.”

  Jami thought about it. “Maybe. There were so many people there. I’m sorry, I really don’t remember.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” said Charlie. “Standing room only—most people I think I’ve ever seen crammed into a church outside of a Christmas Eve service.” He smiled. “Showed how many people loved Ben Jordan.”

  Jami nodded slowly and knowingly. “So you know President Keller, too? From the Chicago ATF office?”

  Charlie nodded. “It’s been a while since we’ve spoken—at the funeral, I guess—but yes, I know Jim well.” Redding reached over and grabbed a glass of water and took a long drink. Setting it down, he said, “I moved out here a few months back. Been doing some contract work since retiring. Blake’s been stopping by a lot.” His eyes moved back to Jami. “He hasn’t been himself since his dad passed away. I’m sure it’s been hard on him. He mentions you sometimes.” Charlie paused. “He won’t say it, but he misses you.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have…” Jami stopped herself and just looked at Redding. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  Charlie remained quiet, tapped a hand on the armrest, and stroked his beard with the other, thinking.

  Jami maintained eye contact, sensing there was something Charlie wasn’t telling her. “What?”

  He shook his head slowly and dropped his gaze. “You’re right, he shouldn’t have walked away, but he did.” After several seconds, Redding added, “You know, it’s really not my place to share this, but—” he looked over to an old black-and-white photograph on his desk of a younger, slimmer version of himself with an arm wrapped around a woman as Jami followed his gaze “—you need to know that he had good reason to.”

  Jami’s eyes narrowed as he picked up the old picture and brought it closer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Charlie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He loves you, Jami.” He dropped his gaze once again. “Bought a beautiful ring for you. Showed it to me before leaving for Chicago last Christmas. Said he was going to give it to you on New Year’s Eve.” He looked up to gauge Jami’s reaction to what he had shared.

  She looked away. “He was staying with me for a few weeks. We had plans to go to Navy Pier that night.” Pausing briefly, she continued, feeling like she was talking to an old friend instead of a perfect stranger. “But something happened. We had to go to New York and—” she took a breath “—everything changed.”

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said as he grabbed his glass of water and took another long drink from it. “He wouldn’t go into specifics, but did tell me that he had be
en warned that night in New York, Jami.”

  “Warned?”

  Redding nodded. “He said that who he was and who he worked for had been compromised. Right before he killed the man, he told Blake that he couldn’t stop what was already in motion. That it wouldn’t end with him.” Charlie looked up, trying to recall the specific words. “Russia has a very long memory.”

  Jami let the words hang in the air for a few moments before she spoke again. “What does that mean?”

  Redding thought about it for a moment. “They said they would keep coming after him. I guess they were right,” he said, looking back at the image of the two men still displayed on the large monitor on his desk.

  The two sat in silence for a few moments before Jami said, “So that’s what this is all about. Revenge.”

  Shaking his head slowly, Charlie said, “Seems like it, doesn’t it?” and then paused before looking at Jami. “He still carries it.”

  Jami’s eyes narrowed.

  “The ring,” he clarified. “A reminder of what’s at stake, I guess.”

  “He should have stayed,” she said in a soft voice as Charlie set the old picture down carefully on his desk.

  He nodded. “Sometimes we do the wrong thing in the moment,” he said with regret in his voice as he kept his eyes on the photograph. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t go back and make things right, does it?”

  There were three loud knocks at the front door as Redding turned to look at it. “The guys,” said Jami as she stood and walked to the front of the home to meet Reed and Reynolds as Charlie followed her there.

  “Jami,” said Redding before they reached the door, and she turned and looked up to the man. “Tell him.”

  She narrowed her eyes again and shook her head. “Tell him what?”

  Charlie unlocked the door, grabbed the handle, and turned to her before twisting it open. “Whatever’s in your heart, whatever’s left to be said, you have to say it. Blake is just like his father—he’s a good man.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  LYNNE MAY LOCKED her laptop screen. She stood and left the cubicles where Simon and the rest of her DDC team were working at the Hoover Building. May walked down a dark corridor to find Landry’s office and, as she got closer, noticed that his door was slightly ajar. She approached slowly and heard him talking. Trying to see if Landry was in a meeting before interrupting, she stopped at the door and listened.

  “It’ll be okay,” she heard him whisper. “Come over to my place. I’ll give you the address,” he said and gave it to the caller. “There’s a key hidden in a sprinkler head by the front door. Text me when you’re there and I’ll disarm the security system from my phone. Make yourself at home, okay? I’ll be there in a few hours.”

  May heard the sound of the receiver being set down quietly and knocked twice on Landry’s office door.

  “Come in,” he said.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. I can come back.”

  “Please come in,” repeated Landry. “Just dealing with my daughter. It’s always something, you know?”

  May nodded in agreement. Landry’s fingers were interlaced and rested on top of his desk. She didn’t know that the man had children. She looked for a wedding band and didn’t see one. She looked around the office for pictures, but saw none. Landry gestured to a chair across his desk, and May pulled it out and sat down.

  “Bill, we have a problem.”

  “What is it?”

  “We’ve lost contact with Agent Davis. Simon tried to reach out to her several times with no response.”

  “Where’s Jordan?”

  “He’s with her,” said May as Landry just stared at her. “I asked Simon to ping their cell phones earlier; they were at the same location before they went offline.” She paused and looked around Landry’s office again, feeling uneasy about the conversation she’d overheard. “We believe their phones were turned off.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding to himself. “Last known location?”

  “An address out in Rosslyn. We looked up the owner, a man named Charles Redding. A retired ATF man.”

  Landry held a hand up to May as he became more relaxed, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. “Okay, I spoke with Agent Reed a little while ago. Said that he and Reynolds were headed out to Rosslyn. Davis probably stumbled onto a lead and called him for assistance. I wouldn’t worry about it, Lynne.”

  “Bill,” pressed the DDC woman, “I haven’t known Davis for long, but I do know how she operates.” May paused. “It’s not like her to go dark like this. Why would she contact Reed and not check in with me?”

  Landry maintained his gaze from across the desk and slowly shook his head. “Lynne, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll reach out to Reed and Reynolds and ask for a situation report. I’ll have them relay the message for Davis to check in with you. And I’ll have my people begin tracking their movements, okay?”

  May glared at Landry, feeling like this was becoming the Bureau’s show to run instead of a joint operation with the Department of Domestic Counterterrorism to find their only lead on the field office bombing.

  As May remained silent, Landry asked, “How’s the investigation going across the street? Any updates?”

  “We’re close. I’m told that the vehicle where the explosive originated from should be identified shortly.”

  “Already?” asked Landry skeptically with an overly concerned expression on his face.

  “Well, that’s what I’m hearing. We may be able to move our operations back by morning, if not sooner. I’m expecting to hear from them any minute now.” She paused again. “Thanks for all of your help so far.”

  Landry sat up straight. “Of course. You and your team are welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

  “And I appreciate that, Bill,” said May as she pushed her chair away from the desk and stood.

  “In fact, I insist that you stay,” he added, joining her at the door. “At least until we get through all of this.”

  May looked past Landry and slowly turned around, taking one more look around his office. His intense, direct style made her feel uncomfortable. She thought about his offer. “Fine,” she said, turning back to him. “Our people are working well together out there. It’s best we let them do their jobs without—”

  Before Lynne May could finish, Landry’s landline started to ring. “I better get that,” he said, sitting back down behind his desk and checking the caller ID. “Let me know what they find across the street. I’ll get in touch with my guys shortly, and I’ll have them tell Davis to give you a call as soon as they arrive. Okay?”

  Landry placed a hand on the receiver, waiting for May’s response.

  She nodded and let herself out, closing the door behind her and hearing the Bureau man’s muffled voice as he answered the phone in his office.

  May remained outside his office. “Why would his kid not know where he lives?” she whispered to herself.

  Simon Harris appeared from around the corner and called for her. “What do you have?” she asked as she approached and walked with him back to the cubicles where the Bureau and DDC analysts were working.

  “The ATF is on the line for you, ma’am,” he said, short of breath. “I’ll have them transferred over to you.”

  She nodded as she entered the cubicle directly across from Simon and grabbed a pen and a yellow sticky note, writing a reminder to herself about something she wanted to follow up on when she had a moment. “Put him through, Simon,” she said after she set the pen down and pulled the landline closer to her. “Looks like extension thirty-two fifty-seven.”

  Simon repeated the extension for the desk that May was working from to a Bureau analyst next to him.

  A moment later, the phone at May’s desk started to ring. “This is Lynne May,” she said as Simon approached and stood at the entrance to her cubicle. May held a hand up and listened intently to the information being given to her from the ATF man across the street. “That doesn
’t make any sense at all.”

  The man on the other end of the line continued to speak. When he had finished relaying what he knew, May said, “Thank you for the update. Rest assured that we will fully cooperate with the investigation.” She went on to give the caller her cell number and asked that he call as soon as they were cleared to return to the office so they could resume normal operations. May disconnected the call and looked up at Simon.

  “What did he say?” he asked as May stood to return to Landry’s office to fill him in on the news.

  “They identified the vehicle where the explosives originated,” replied May, still in shock. “It was Jami’s.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHRIS AND MARK stood with Jami in Charlie’s home office as she brought the men up to speed on the current situation. Operational planning wasn’t typically discussed in the presence of civilians, but Jami explained the concerns she had with DDC and, more specifically, analyst Simon Harris. And the fact that Charlie Redding was a retired ATF man and had managed to obtain an image of the only suspect they had in the agency bombing—not to mention was a personal friend of Jordan’s—made him a part of the discussion.

  “So that’s him?” asked Mark, pointing at the man on the left of the image taken from a CCTV camera.

  Chris crossed his arms and stared at the large monitor. “And the other one was taken out in the garage?”

  Jami nodded her response to both of the questions as Reed grabbed his phone and started to place a call. “Who are you calling, Chris?” she asked.

  “Landry.”

  “I told you, we have to cut off all communication until we understand what we’re dealing with here.”

  Reed shook his head. “There’s a dead man handcuffed to a concrete column on the top floor of a parking garage. Think about it, Jami. How long until he’s discovered? Someone’s probably found the guy already.”