Line of Fire

by R. J. Patterson

  Buxton, North Carolina

  BLACK KEPT HIS EYES glued on Vogle, whose boat maintained a safe lead of about two hundred meters. Vogle wove through the main channel before hitting the open seas and heading north. The wind whipped across the bow of Black’s boat as he strained to see Vogle cruising around a bend.

  Black scanned the shoreline along the cape, looking for any entrance to the backwaters slicing up the island.

  Where are you, Vogle?

  While Black had spent a handful of summers on Cape Hatteras when he was growing up, his knowledge of the waterways was woefully lacking. His mother preferred the larger community of Buxton, renting a summer house there to pass the time while Black’s father was on a tour of duty. Most of Black’s time was spent either at the beach or riding dirt bikes around the island with local kids.

  Black had hung out by the various rivers that sliced through the island, but not enough to navigate confidently into them. But he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

  Black searched for a likely hiding spot, not finding one until he’d already passed Buxton and was now cruising along just outside the community of Hatteras.

  He thought he caught of glimpse of Vogle’s boat and decided to venture into a nearby canal. However, it proved to be a dead end.

  Black turned around, making one final pass to see if he could locate Vogle. Convinced he wasn’t prepared for a chase on the water, Black considered the possibility that Vogle doubled back and was going to whisk Miriam Parsons away. And Black couldn’t let that happen. She obviously knew more than she was letting on. He just needed to convince her to talk—if she hadn’t already bolted with him.

  Black opened up the throttle and roared into the canal behind Parson’s house. He found her sitting on the dock, finishing her meal. She dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin and then hopped to her feet.

  “Didn’t find him, did you?” she asked, holding out her hand for the rope.

  Black threw it to her and shook his head. “I don’t know the backwaters well enough to catch him. I thought if I could close the distance, I might be able to corral him, but that wasn’t the case. Plus, it’s getting dark.”

  “Nothing good happens on the cape after sundown.”

  “That’s how I remember it,” Black said.

  “You used to live here?”

  “In the summers with my mom. But that was a long time ago.”

  “Not much has changed.”

  Black nodded. “That’s true. I’m still getting lied to.”

  “Look, I can explain,” she said.

  Black finished tying off Mr. Tyson’s boat and then joined her on the dock. “I’m listening.”

  “I wasn’t sure who you were,” she said. “And I certainly was concerned about Preston returning to my life, wanting to pick up where we left off. It all seemed strange to me.”

  “And now?”

  “I made a phone call to one of my contacts at Southbrook Services.” She whipped out her gun and trained it on him. “Who are you? Nobody there has ever heard of you.”

  Black placed his hands in the air. “I can explain.”

  “Better start talking fast.”

  “Please put the gun down,” Black said. “That isn’t necessary. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Damn right, you’re not. I’ve got a gun.”

  “Okay, look. I don’t work for Southbrook. But I do work for a clandestine branch of the CIA, so secret that hardly anyone there knows I even exist.”

  “So I wouldn’t be able to verify you anyway? How convenient.”

  “Call the CIA switchboard and ask to speak to Director Quinn. He’ll verify that I’m working on a special assignment for him, trying to track down Vogle. I’m not lying to you now.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “If you still care about your country, you’ll help me out because your friend just held Director Quinn at gunpoint before stealing files off his machine.”

  “Preston did that? That doesn’t sound like him.”

  Black shrugged. “Frankly, I don’t know if that’s in character for him or not since I only know what’s in his files. But from what I read, his actions over the past two days are quite a departure from model agent.”

  Parsons dropped her weapon and gestured toward a bench on the dock. “Have a seat, and let’s talk. He was acting strange yesterday, telling me that he did something to the agency that he knows might get him killed.”

  “Please,” Black said, “make a phone call. I’d feel better if you knew without a doubt that I was being straight with you right now.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and made a call. He sat down and listened as she made a request to speak with Director Quinn on a special hotline. After a brief conversation, she hung up.

  “Got any identification on you?” she asked.

  Black dug his driver’s license out of his wallet and held it up for her to see.

  “Looks legit to me,” she said as she remained standing.

  “Was his visit to you out of the blue?” he asked “Or does he come around often?”

  “Totally unexpected,” she said. “He came in late last night. Said he needed to lay low for a few days. How did you track him here, by the way?”

  “I didn’t,” Black said. “I came on a hunch to speak with you since you were listed in his files. And after I learned that you were no longer with the agency, I figured you would be worth my time. That’s potentially true, depending on how this conversation goes.”

  “I left the agency for Preston, hoping that we could continue our relationship. After we were reprimanded, we both thought we could make it work if I quit.”

  “What went wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing really. He kept working hard, and gradually his visits tapered off. We just grew apart, as trite as that might sound.”

  “And you moved on with your life, I see.”

  “Yeah, I was burnt out anyway. The agency has a way of doing that to you.”

  Black nodded. “I understand how you feel. So, got any idea of why Preston would all of a sudden brazenly steal info from the director’s computer?”

  “I want to know how he got out of there without getting shot or how he plans on surviving, because he clearly can’t return to his position at the agency.”

  “We’re still investigating that. But what do you know? Anything that could help us figure out what he’s up to?”

  She looked down and took a deep breath. “He wasn’t too talkative last night. I tried to get some things out of him because I thought it was crazy that he just showed up here in the middle of the night. But he said he’d explain everything to me later.”

  “Have you ever seen him like this before?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Black said as he gazed out at the water. “Maybe . . . Have you ever seen him acting crazy like this? I’m assuming this wasn’t normal.”

  “I don’t know what’s normal for him now, but he would start talking very dark when we were together.”

  Black furrowed his brow. “Is that so?”

  She nodded.

  “Anything in particular trigger that type of behavior?”

  “Occasionally, he’d get a mission that would send him to the Middle East. I think that’s where all his psychological pain stems from.”

  “Did he ever talk about what happened?”

  “Yeah, I mean, sort of. He’d mention it every once in a while. Something to do with what happened in Kabul.”

  “Kabul?” Black asked. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “Well, according to his file, he was never stationed in Kabul.”

  Parsons massaged her temples and looked down. “That’s strange, but I’d swear that’s what he told me. Maybe I got it wrong. I don’t know. But I think he said something about a special assignment he was on there that messed him up.”

  “Anything else you could
tell me that might be helpful?”

  “He was always a nice guy. He never hit me or did anything like that. Always respectful of me and my wishes.”

  “I can tell you still have some affection for him,” Black said.

  “It’s hard not to, even though I know we’ll never be together.”

  “I know you might be tempted to tell him everything, but don’t.”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Tell him I’m your jealous ex-boyfriend. He doesn’t know me. And that should at least buy us some time in figuring out a way to capture him before he goes all scorched earth on the director like he promised to do if we went after him.”

  “And then what?” she asked.

  “The sooner we find him, the better. Do you know where his car is?”

  “Yeah, it was parked across the street when you got here. He was driving a gray Toyota Camry.”

  “Must’ve stolen another one,” Black said. “He was driving a blue Corolla away from the city.”

  “Do you have a tracker?”

  Black nodded. “I’ll put one in a place he won’t check.”

  “Let’s go get the keys.”

  They went back to her house, and she looked on the hooks by the front door. “That’s odd.”

  “What is it?”

  “My keys are the only ones one here. I know he put them here because I hate having keys left all over the place. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”

  Parsons rushed outside, and he followed. She stopped when she reached the street and let a few choice words fly.

  “He’s gone, isn’t he?” Black asked.

  Parsons nodded.

  “Call me if he reaches out to you,” Black said as he handed her his business card. “But I doubt you’ll see him again. However, on the off chance that you do, play up the ex-boyfriend bit about me and then text me. Try to keep him around as long as possible.”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “Back to Washington,” Black said. “Whatever’s going on, it’s bigger than just Vogle.”

  Black hustled over to his vehicle and got inside. He pushed the starter button, igniting the engine before calling Shields.

  “I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever hear from you,” Shields said.

  “Things got a little crazy down here,” Black said.

  “Did you find Vogle?”

  “Sort of,” Black said. “He was hiding out at Parson’s house.”

  “Was? Did you lose him?”

  “He escaped on a boat. I tried to keep up with him, but he lost me in the backwaters. By the time I got back to Parson’s house, Vogle was gone.”

  “Are you sure she wasn’t helping him?”

  Black sighed. “If she was, she’s very good and should still be with the agency instead of running a little surf shop. But she was forthright with me, so I kind of doubt I was getting played.”

  “What’d she tell you?”

  Black turned east onto state Highway 12 as he continued. “She said something about him having a traumatic experience while he was in Kabul.”

  “Kabul? I don’t remember seeing any appointments to the station in Kabul.”

  “That’s exactly what I said, but she said maybe she’d made a mistake and remembered it wrong. See if you can do some digging and find out what she was talking about.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m on it.”

  “Excellent. And is there anything else you learned in the meantime?”

  “Oh, yes, there is, but I can’t talk about it on the phone.”

  Black chuckled. “Sounds juicy.”

  “It’s not a laughing matter,” she said. “Hurry back to Washington tonight and meet me at the office first thing in the morning. You won’t believe what I learned.”

  “Can you give me any idea about how this relates to the case?”

  “It doesn’t,” she said. “It’s about President Michaels.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT CRAMMED A BAGEL into his mouth as he lumbered into the office just before 8:00 a.m. Despite his incredible network within the intelligence community, he’d struck out on learning anything useful about Preston Vogle. Prominent leaders had either never heard of him or only had glowing reviews tucked away in their files. As a result, Blunt remained both bewildered by Vogle’s actions as well as stumped by a lack of helpful information related to his time serving his country.

  Half the cream cheese covered bagel was hanging out of Blunt’s mouth as he rounded the corner and came face to face with Shields.

  “Trading in your signature cigar,” she said. “I like it.”

  “Give me a half hour,” Blunt said. “If I don’t find out anything else on Vogle, I might even light my cigar while I swill some bourbon.”

  “Still nothing from your contacts?”

  “Nada. Zip. This guy is either the best Boy Scout ever or a ghost within our own system.”

  “At least we know where he is,” she said.

  “Was,” Blunt corrected. “We’ve got to learn more about him before he catches us with our pants down a second time.”

  “Given his track record, I wouldn’t say anyone was caught with their pants down. This is more like a shocking betrayal by a loyal patriot.”

  Blunt grunted and shrugged. “Po-tay-to, pah-tah-to. Either way, it doesn’t reflect well on the agency. And who knows what secrets he intends to expose or who he plans to blackmail with what he stole off Director Quinn’s machine.”

  “Got any contacts with promising information today?” she asked.

  “I’m hoping General Walker can shed some light on all of this,” Blunt said. “He seems to have a good grip on some of these CIA programs that have thrived in the shadows.”

  Shields slapped him on the arm and forged ahead. “Be sure to ask Quinn about Vogle and his time in Kabul.”

  “Kabul?”

  “Yeah,” she said as she continued down the hallway. “I left a note about it on your desk. Let me know if you learn anything interesting.”

  Blunt finished off his bagel and made a beeline to his office. He flipped the light on and hung his cane on the coatrack in the corner. After he shut the door, he sank into his chair and exhaled. The longer Vogle remained free, the more difficult the team’s job became.

  Blunt read Shields’s note about Vogle as relayed to her from Black. Blunt read through a copy of Vogle’s personnel folder again. There wasn’t any mention of Vogle ever being stationed in Kabul. Blunt underlined that portion of the message and dialed Director Quinn’s number.

  “Good morning,” Blunt said.

  “I’m glad it’s good for someone,” Quinn said.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “I’m still pissed about what Vogle did, J.D. Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Oh, believe me, I still am. I want to see that traitor locked up as much or more as you do, which is why I’m calling today.”

  “Did you catch him?”

  Blunt grunted. “Almost. One of our agents went to Cape Hatteras on a hunch where Vogle’s ex lived. Our guy lost him in the backwaters before Vogle bolted for the mainland. But we’re going to find him.”

  “I want the first crack at that bastard.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get your chance,” Blunt said. “But before that happens, I have a question for you regarding our favorite fugitive.”

  “Fire away.”

  Blunt glanced at the note from Shields before continuing. “Did Vogle ever serve in Kabul?”

  “Kabul? Not that I’m aware of. And I’ve just about got his entire history memorized after his stunt in my office. Why would you ask that?”

  “According to his ex, he has experienced a lot of trauma from a secret program he was a part of in Kabul.”

  “If he was, there’s no official record of him participating in anything in Kabul, much less going there.”

  Blunt sighed. “I guess he could be lying to his girlfriend, but that still seems
like an odd story to conjure up.”

  “We’re dealing with a psychopath here. I’m not sure we can expect him to do anything normal. He had the guts to walk into my office and hold me at gunpoint to get what he wanted. I wouldn’t put anything past a guy like that. All our agents are trained in the art of deceptive communication.”

  Blunt scowled as he scribbled down a few notes. “So, he was never in Kabul?”

  “Not according to any official documents here at the agency.”

  “Do you think he’s capable of pulling something off like this?”

  “Not without some help,” Quinn said. “And based on everything I’ve read about the guy, he’s a loner without any strong ties to other agents currently employed by the CIA. Miriam Parsons was his only well-known connection. Beyond her, he wasn’t close with anyone.”

  “But if he wasn’t in Kabul, he has to be working with someone.”

  “It certainly does appear that way,” Quinn said. “Just keep digging, J.D. I’m sure you’re gonna find out something sooner rather than later.”

  “I hope so—for both your sake and the agency’s.”

  “Roger that,” Quinn said. “Keep me abreast of any new developments.”

  “Of course,” Blunt said before hanging up.

  He wanted to throw something through the window to let off his frustration. Before he could even slam his fist on his desk, his phone buzzed. His secretary was on the other end.

  “Sir, I have a General Harold Walker here to see you,” she said.

  “Send him up,” Blunt said. “I’ll meet him at the top of the stairs.”

  Blunt shuffled down the corridor toward the stairwell and greeted Walker. “Long time, no see.”

  “It’s been a few weeks,” Walker said, offering his hand. The two men shook before continuing down the hallway.

  “What brings you down here, General?” Blunt asked as he led Walker into the conference room.

  “You called me yesterday inquiring about Preston Vogle.”

  “Yes,” Blunt said. “And?”

  “I have something for you, but it’s something the whole team working on this needs to hear.”

  Blunt held up his finger. “Hang on a second.” He picked up the conference room phone and buzzed Shields.

  “Has Black shown up yet?”