Authors: Mark Young
Gerrit watched as the gate slowly swung open. A camera peered down from a black metal pole like a one-eyed Cyclops, scanning the gate and entryway. “Someone manning the place?”
Joe saw him looking at the camera. “I am. Remotely.”
Smiling, Gerrit shook his head. “Figures. “
Willy waited until the gate fully opened before driving forward. “Mr. J, you never told him how rich you are?”
“Never flaunt what you have, Willy. Besides, it’s not all mine.”
Willy chuckled. “Mr. G, you’re in for quite a surprise.”
Gerrit leaned forward. “Why here, Joe? Seems out of the way.”
“Right now we need to put some distance between us and those looking to do us harm. We stayed longer than I’d liked at the hospital in Seattle. But that couldn’t be helped. Now, we need to start rebuilding our operation before they have a chance to track us.”
“You pick up any chatter I should know about?”
Willy and Joe exchanged glances.
Willy drove up to the front steps of the chalet as Joe turned forward. “Let’s get settled and then I’ll brief everyone at the same time.”
As he climbed out of the van, Gerrit saw beyond the main structure several outlying cabins connected by a mortared rock path that led back to the main dwelling. Almost like a mini conference ground.
Joe yelled out to everyone, “Grab your gear. You can bunk inside the main house—several nice-sized bedrooms on the second floor—or pick your own cabin. We’ll meet in the main living room in about fifteen. Okay?”
They moved off in several directions, Gerrit choosing a separate cabin that seemed the farthest from the main house. Like all the others, it offered a nice view of the lake and provided privacy with large overhanging trees and bushes that shielded his cabin from the others. He left his belongings inside, then moved toward the main house just as the others began to gather.
As he neared, he thought about Joe’s comments in the van. He hoped his uncle would share more about this world Gerrit had become a part of after joining this team. Ever since Alena whisked him from his Seattle boathouse, they’d been on the run, always looking over their shoulders. Maybe now, in this place, they could settle down and take a breather.
If only their enemies would leave them alone.
February 21
G
errit tensed. An unknown vehicle just entered the compound. He tried to relax, but he could not shake this feeling. It was the same guardedness he tried to work through each time he returned from a war zone. Sudden unexpected events jarred a defensive, muscle-wrenching wariness. Friend or foe? Dangerous or safe? His mind clicked through each of these scenarios in a fight-or-flight reflex.
Like now.
A navy-blue Suburban reached the main house at about the same time Gerrit came through the back door. Peering through a front window, he saw a familiar figure climb out of the car followed by loud barking.
Beck Malloy. Gerrit relaxed.
As he moved outside he saw a streak of muscle and fur hurling his way. Bones? He braced himself as the sand-colored Labrador slowed down just enough to plant two paws on Gerrit’s chest. A wet, sloppy tongue licked his face. He gave the dog a hug and then forced him back to the ground.
“Down, boy.”
Bones wiggled with pent-up energy as Gerrit patted his head and stroked the dog’s sides. He heard someone walking up the path behind him.
“Man, am I glad to finally get that pest hooked up with you.” Beck smiled. “The agent who drove him down here said this mutt could hardly sit still the entire trip. Must have known he was coming to see you.”
Gerrit shook Beck’s hand. “This is a surprise. We’ve been on the move since Seattle. I heard you managed to escape unscathed. Sorry we couldn’t stay behind to help.”
“No sweat. You guys were the target, not me. As soon as you jammed out of there, the gunmen pulled back. They didn’t want to reengage.”
“Anyway, thanks for getting Bones here.” Gerrit reached down to pat the dog’s head. “I wasn’t sure when I’d see the mutt again.”
Bones came over to sniff Beck’s shoes. He leaned down and stroked the dog’s head. “No problem. One of the agents met me in Sacramento on my way up here. Now, how did the dog come by the name Bones
?
It doesn’t look like that dog has missed many meals.”
Bones wandered off to explore. “I found him in Iraq, just as we were pulling out of Fallujah. Our recon unit encountered incoming when this dog—just a puppy, really, all skin and bones—kept following me around. He and I have been together ever since.” Gerrit wanted to move the conversation in another direction. “I didn’t even know we were coming here to Tahoe.”
“Joe needed a place for us to regroup, to get our act together before Round 2.”
“Well, it’s time to move forward.”
Beck began walking toward the house. “Come on, let’s find Joe. I need to catch everyone up on the latest.”
“Trouble?” Gerrit fell into step with the FBI agent.
“You can’t believe how much trouble you guys started back in D.C. Everyone’s scrambling to find out what happened at that lab you guys attacked in Washington state. Meanwhile, with a new president on board, bureaucrats are trying to figure what their future might hold in the coming months.”
“Will they change your assignment?”
“Nah, I’m too far down the totem pole. Should be interesting, though, with enough congressional seats changing to shift the power base and President Chambers getting his team together. Total confusion. A good time to stay away from Capitol Hill.”
“Where does this leave you?” Gerrit watched as Bones headed for the shoreline, the dog leaping into the water like he was still a puppy.
“It leaves me free to come out and check on you guys. Speaking of which, your favorite Marine will be here tonight. He’s flying into Reno under an alias.”
“Colonel Thompson? How come he’s making the trip?”
“Jack picked up some chatter from one of our intelligence agencies. Your name came up. He wanted to talk about it face to face.”
Thompson had been Gerrit’s CO overseas, heading up 1
st
Reconnaissance Battalion. Then when they moved Jack to U.S. Special Operations Command, he began to use his connections to help Gerrit and the others in special ops forays.
Laughter pealed out of the main house. Gerrit gave a sharp whistle, and Bones came running full speed from the lake, dripping wet. The dog waited until he reached Gerrit before stopping to shake off the water. “You couldn’t do that by the lake?”
Beck laughed. “Hey, that dog minds well. You whistled. He came. Don’t blame him for following orders.”
They climbed broad stone steps leading to the expansive back patio. Lounge chairs had been scattered around a rock-paved deck, offering comfort to anyone who wanted to sit outside and enjoy the lake view. Gerrit opened the door after gesturing to Bones to lie down on the patio. “You’ll have to stay outside until you dry off, boy. Stay.”
Bones shot him a look as if to say, “You called me up here to lie down?”
They went inside, leaving Bones whimpering.
Jack gaped at the huge central house near the Tahoe shore as he passed through the security gate. This was a whole lot bigger—and nicer—than the Quonset huts he’d grown used to in the Marine Corp. His body ached after the long flight from D.C., following an even longer flight from NATO headquarters in Brussels last night. And he hated to bring them the news he’d just picked up.
Just don’t shoot the messenger.
Moments later, he joined Joe O’Rourke and the others in the main room. Everyone was sitting around a huge fireplace. As he sank into a soft leather armchair, Jack saw Gerrit and Bones enter from the direction of the lake. Gerrit looked tired.
It was good to see him still walking. Ever since the bombing, Jack and Malloy had been working on the case. Some pieces started to fall in place with Malloy’s help, but they had a long way to go before there would be any clarity to the situation.
Until then, every effort was being made to make sure this little group would stay safe.
Gerrit strode over and shook Jack’s hand. “Colonel. Great to see you again.”
“Likewise, Marine. See you still got your flea-bitten mutt.”
“Hey, you have only yourself to blame. If you hadn’t pulled a few strings back in the big sandbox to get us stateside, Bones and I would have separated years ago.”
Jack reached down and gently cuffed Bone’s head just as Joe stood. “I know everyone is tired, especially Jack. He just flew in from Europe this morning. But he has an important update.”
Willy sat off to one side while typing away on his ever-present laptop. Next to Willy sat Alena Shapiro, a woman of many talents. He was still trying to figure out her past and wondered what kind of future she and Gerrit might have together, particularly in light of the information he just learned in Europe. It was going to be a rough ride for a while. He noticed the two of them chose not to sit together. Not a good sign.
Jack took a deep breath. It was time to begin.
Alena watched Jack run a hand over the bristled hairs of his buzz cut, his light-blue eyes pensive as he rose and began to pace. He could never sit still. Every so often, she glanced over at Gerrit standing near the fireplace. They had hardly spoken to each other since their arrival in Tahoe. His dig about marriage cut deeper than she had expected. Sometimes he really angered her. What was that expression Americans seemed fond of?
Ticked me off
. That’s how she felt right now.
Wasn’t there a bug called a tick? Could that be where the expression came from? Jack’s voice drew her from her thoughts. She tried to focus on what the colonel was saying and ignore Gerrit.
“After the last operation this group survived, I thought we better try to understand what we’re up against.”
Alena stole a quick look at Gerrit. He was looking right at her. Angrily, she felt herself blush.
Focus, Alena. Focus.
“I met with Beck, Joe, and Willy, taking a look at the communications links between Stan Cromwell and that mysterious contact back in D.C.”
“What did you turn up, sir?” Gerrit asked.
“After we seized the lab in Washington, we grabbed all of Richard Kane’s portable communications links—his cell phone, laptop, etc.—as well as any communications received or sent from that facility during the entire operation. Willy also did a timeline search to access Kane’s database through the daemon files.”
She remembered Kane’s face just before she squeezed off two shots as he shot his hostage, Joe O’Rourke. Fortunately for Joe, it was just a graze. Kane—not so lucky. Her shots hit him square on.
As Alena stood over her former boss, watching him slowly bleed out, she had realized something inside her was different. Before Gerrit, killing had become a necessary action. No feeling. Just action. She had been trained for it, and her shady life while in Russian further added to the callousness she’d developed inside. A wall of protection. A wall she could hide behind when her feelings got in the way of the job. Then she met Joe O’Rourke, and before that, Gerrit’s folks. And then she met Gerrit face to face.
This irritating man awakened feelings deep inside her soul she thought had died long ago. These new feelings frightened her. At times, he was like a splinter festering its way under her calloused skin. Other times, he seemed like a refreshing ocean breeze sweeping over the dryness of her life. All this seemed to come to a head when she pulled that trigger on Kane— and she could not seem to shake it.
Would she be able to function at a critical moment if her emotions made her hesitate, to waver just enough to give the enemy an edge?
Maybe this was part of why she snapped at Gerrit on the plane. Angry at him for making her care, angry for his joke about marriage at a time when she could not decide what was going on inside. She forced herself to put aside these thoughts for another day. Right now, she needed to focus on the matter at hand.
Jack continued. “One phone number in D.C. linked both Kane and Cromwell to this source, just before both men died. We could not retrieve the messages, but we were able to get a location. Beck, you want to take it from here?”
The FBI agent nodded. “I gave that information to our computer forensic people to analyze. No offense, Willy.”
Looking up from his laptop, Willy gave him a grin. “No offense taken, Mr. B.”
Beck turned to the others. “I’m waiting for an update.”
“While you’re waiting, Mr. B., let me tell you what they’ll find out.”
Alena smiled at Beck’s shocked look. “You’re the man, Willy.”
He gave her a dazzling smile. “The number comes back to an office in D.C., a consulting lobbyist group identified as Worldwide Alliance Communications, LLC. Their clients seem to be connected to communications and military defense interests.”
Beck leaned forward. “Come up with any names connected to this LLC?”
“I found one. Stuart Martin. Guy seems to be a connected lobbyist around the capital.”
“What else did you find out about him?” Beck took out a notepad, waiting for Willy’s reply.
“As we sit here talking. I see that he was born in the dark ages—1942—in Chicago, went to all the right schools, and started a business in D.C. back in ‘72. No arrests. No citations. No nothing.”
“Looks like he’s an honest, upstanding citizen,” Beck said, writing down Willy’s information.
“Too honest, J. Edgar. No one’s this clean. The mere fact that he’s a lobbyist should tell us something about the guy. I’m going to do more checking into his background.”
Beck closed his notebook. “This gives us a place to start. Jack—you have anything?”
The colonel rubbed his jaw. “Willy gave me all the cell phone connections linked to Kane and the others. I passed this on to contacts I have at CSS, NSA’s Central Security Services. They did a full analysis of the contact numbers and ran them through their computer system for prior flags or investigations. They also flagged those numbers for future reference. If they get an alert, I’ll get a call. Give me all that data on Martin, Willy, and I’ll add it to their list.