Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7) (29 page)

Tawni inhaled deeply. The donuts smelled fresh, and she decided she would eat a couple. She had rushed through breakfast this morning.

Sheryl was already sitting in the corner unobtrusively. She had a paper cup and a half-eaten bear claw in front of her. There were no other customers.

Aaron walked into the shop. He wore a gray suit which was perfectly tailored for his impressive physique.

"Mr. Sterling Ford?"

Ford turned with a surprised expression. "Do you know me?"

"I'm Frank Geyer," Aaron said. "Please, take a seat."

Norbert quickly moved to the front door and locked it. The clerk behind the counter vanished into a back room, and Tawni took his place, blocking that exit. Ford was trapped.

"What's going on?" Ford glanced at Norbert and Tawni anxiously.

"I don't want to be interrupted," Aaron said. "Sit."

Ford sat at one of the small tables. "Why are we meeting here? I thought I was going to a police station."

"I have a confession." Aaron sat across from him. "I'm not a police detective, and my friends here aren't the police." Aaron pulled a .45 caliber semi-automatic out of his pocket. "And if you try to run, I'll shoot you in the back."

Ford looked at the gun and became pale.

"How does it look outside?" Aaron asked.

Norbert peered out the window. "All clear. He wasn't followed."

"Good."

"Are you going to tell me who you are?" Ford said.

"CIA Counterintelligence Center. We catch traitors like you."

That statement produced an even stronger reaction in Ford than the sight of the gun. He checked the exits. Tawni positioned herself in case he took off. Her orders were to prevent his escape by any means necessary.

"I've done nothing wrong," Ford said. "I'm not a traitor."

Aaron raised his eyebrows. "Really? Is the name Neville Cantrell familiar? He's paid you a lot of money. That's strange considering he was kicked out of the agency six years ago. It's hard to imagine any legitimate reason for you to have a business relationship with him."

Ford was shivering. "The story about Holly being dead isn't true?"

"Correct. As far as I know, your mistress is alive and without child. I needed you to come to Chicago."

"Why?"

"Because Cantrell is here," Aaron said, "and you're going to spy on him for me."

Ford swallowed. He checked the exits again.

"I have to admit we don't know a lot about him, except he's crooked. Somebody deleted all the files. So, let's start with background information. Tell me everything you know about our mystery man."

Ford looked down at the table.

"You have a wife and two children," Aaron said. "If you want to see them again, you'll start cooperating. I'm authorized to make you disappear. The CIA is extremely disappointed with you. You've been in this business long enough to understand what that means. If you don't talk now, you
will
talk later."

"You want to do this here? What about her?" Ford pointed at Sheryl.

"She works for me, too. Everybody here has clearance. You can talk freely."

Ford sagged. "I met Cantrell in Russia. We were both assigned to the Vladivostok station. He recruited assets, and I managed them. He's the slickest operator I ever met but not the nicest guy."

"What do you mean?"

"He had a little harem of Russian girlfriends that he controlled with intimidation. I didn't want to know about it. My relationship with him was all business."

"I see." Aaron narrowed his eyes.

"After five years overseas, we rotated back to the States. I became a senior analyst. He was put on the Indian Head project."

"Which was?"

"Some kind of top secret scientific research," Ford said. "It included a whole team of doctors and psychologists. I wasn't directly involved, but I visited Cantrell a few times and met the staff. He wanted me to join, but I'm not a scientist. The setup didn't smell right, either. The CIA shouldn't be performing those kinds of experiments."

"What kind?"

"With human subjects." Ford made a sour face. "What we do normally is bad enough. There has to be a line even the CIA won't cross. Indian Head was definitely on the wrong side of that line. I stopped visiting after a while."

Aaron nodded and stood up. He walked around the counter in the shop. He grabbed a chocolate covered donut from a shelf and ate it thoughtfully. Tawni followed his lead and took a couple of powdered donuts for herself. They tasted as delicious as they looked.

"What happened to the project?" Aaron said.

"Some people died during the experiments," Ford said. "Whistles were blown. There was an investigation. I only heard rumors about what was found in that laboratory, but they were ugly rumors. It was a huge mess and a black eye for the agency."

"That's when Cantrell was fired?"

"The whole research team was cut loose. Every scrap of evidence was destroyed, and every file was shredded. The CIA wanted to make sure those experiments never came to light. It was that bad."

Aaron furrowed his brow. "What about Cantrell?"

"He disappeared for a couple of years. When he resurfaced, he made contact with me. I certainly didn't seek him out."

"But you didn't report the incident."

"We..." Ford paused.

Aaron glared at him. "What?"

"We did things in Vladivostok that I'm not proud of. There are still scores waiting to be settled back there. Cantrell could make my life very difficult by giving my name to certain Russian operatives."

"He blackmailed you."

"Listen," Ford said, "you don't mess around with that guy. If he decides he doesn't like you, it's a huge problem, and he has a lot of nasty friends."

"You're a coward."

"I'm realistic."

Aaron frowned. "What is your arrangement with him?"

"He pays me to be his eyes inside the agency. I warn him about trouble."

"And provide false identities."

"You know about that?" Ford's eyes widened.

"Indeed. When was the last time you talked?"

"He called me a couple of nights ago. He had a problem, but I couldn't help him."

Aaron took another bite of his donut. "Do you know what Cantrell is doing these days?"

"He's a businessman. He sells slot machines to casinos and seems to be doing well. I wouldn't be surprised if some of his dealings are shady. He always had a hard time following the rules, but he never shares those details with me, so I don't know. Frankly, I don't want to know."

"He owns an entire casino."

"How is that possible?" Ford said.

"You and your friend have a lot of catching up to do. Call him now. Tell him you're in Chicago on business. You'd like to get together to talk about old times. You'll be wired, of course."

"That seems like a dangerous plan."

Aaron nodded. "For you, certainly, but what choice do you have? Cooperating with me is your only way out of this mess. I'm particularly interested in the Indian Head project. Make sure he talks about it."

"Why does counterintelligence care? Is Cantrell back in the spy business? Is he working for a foreign government?"

"I don't think so."

"Hold on." Ford narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you're actually in counterintelligence?"

"Do you want to see my identification?"

"Identification can be faked."

"Very true," Aaron said.

"And how did you find me? Who tipped you off?"

"We followed the money trail."

"That was supposed to be impossible," Ford said. "Cantrell has this complicated money laundering system in place."

Aaron grabbed a quart of milk from a refrigerator. He went back to the table and sat across from Ford. He chugged the entire carton without taking a breath.

He wiped his mouth. "We had a conversation with the man who handled those transactions. His untimely demise will be very problematic for Cantrell. Now that I think about it, it's also an issue for you. I don't know how you'll get paid now."

Ford stared. "I'm starting to suspect you caused the trouble the other night."

"Yes," Aaron said, "and we're not done."

"Are you really in counterintelligence? Are you even in the CIA?"

"Here is what you need to know. We're a shit storm headed straight for Cantrell. His sins are finally catching up to him in a very ugly way. If you don't cooperate, you'll be in our crosshairs like your buddy. You won't survive. As a realistic man, it's up to you to make a realistic decision. There is one other thing. We know where you live and where you work. Neither location will be safe for you."

"I work in CIA headquarters," Ford said.

"Room 5051, to be exact. The password on your computer is 'silvercar.' That must be a play on your name."

Ford let out a long sigh. His fear was so obvious Tawni felt sorry for him.

"I'm offering you salvation," Aaron said, "a free pass, but you only get one shot. Call Cantrell."

Ford took a slim, blue phone from his pocket. His shaking fingers made it hard for him to dial.

"Neville?" he said. "This is Sterling. Guess what? I just landed in Chicago. The agency sent me here for a meeting. It was a last minute thing and completely stupid, if you ask me. Anyway, I'll be done by noon. I know you're in the area, so I was hoping we could get together. We can have a few beers. My flight home isn't until the evening... Hang on. I need to write this down."

Aaron took a small notepad and a pen from his pocket and handed them over.

Ford jotted down some notes. "That's great," he said. "Two o'clock shouldn't be a problem. Yes, I'll be alone. Just have a cold one ready for me. I'll see you then." He hung up.

"Well done," Aaron said. "If you behave, you can take that fight home tonight and return to your family. All will be forgiven and forgotten. In the meantime, my friends will keep you company." He pointed to Tawni and Norbert. "They'll make sure you don't miss your important meeting." Aaron stood up. "Good day. Hopefully, this will be the last time I see you."

He went to the front door. Norbert unlocked it and held it open for Aaron. Sheryl caught up to him and followed him out.

Tawni walked over to Ford. "Do you want a donut? They're good."

"No," he said. "I lost my appetite."

"A shame." She munched on her powdered donut.

* * *

Jack woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth tasted like something had died in it. He tried to swallow but his throat was too dry.

He staggered into the bathroom. With a plastic cup, he drank water from the tap until his stomach felt bloated. He used the toilet and produced a large amount of urine. He must've been asleep for a long time. He took a hot shower to wash off the funky smell.

He felt a little better. He had no fresh clothes so he put on a bathrobe. He left the guest quarters.

Aaron was with Sheryl in the workout area. They wore karate outfits and gray belts. She was kicking blue pads that he was holding.

"Harder," he said. "Kick like your life depends on it!"

She attempted a straight front kick. The move was clumsy, and she almost fell over. Sweat had soaked her white uniform.

"Sir," she pleaded, "please, let me take a break."

"The enemy doesn't give breaks. If you can stand, you can fight. Let God's breath give you a boost. Kick!"

Jack shook his head. Aaron was a harsh instructor, but he always got the best out of his
legionnaires
. He had turned Norbert into a fearsome warrior despite a lack of talent. Now Tawni was blossoming under Aaron's tutelage. She had made a scary amount of progress in just two months. She was already past the point where she could beat Jack in a fight, and he considered himself pretty tough.

Sheryl kicked again, and this time she did fall over. Aaron rushed forward to catch her in his arms before she hit the floor. He gently helped her stand up.

"Take five minutes," he said, "but don't sit down."

She groaned.

He turned to Jack. "I'm glad to see you're finally awake. I hope you're feeling better. Smythe is on the roof. Go up there and let him give you a check up."

"Yes, sir," Jack said.

He still felt dazed as he made his way to the roof. The sunlight hit him straight in the eyes. He blinked and squinted for a moment.

Then he saw something extremely strange. Bethany and Leanna were suspended a few inches in the air. Their arms were stretched out in a crucifix position. Beams of shimmering white light went from their eyes up to the clouds. All their hair was gone, including their eyebrows.

Smythe was using a stethoscope to listen to Leanna's heart.

Jack walked over. "What the fuck, sir?"

"We think God is upgrading their brains."

"Making the girls even smarter?"

"I would presume," Smythe said. "He wants His project finished, and they weren't getting it done. Apparently, failure is not an option, but miracles are."

Jack stared at the ongoing miracle. He had seen some strange things during his time in the Society, but this one ranked high on the list. A glow was leaking out of the twins' ears. He wondered if they were in pain.

"Why are they bald?"

"Their hair fell out," Smythe said. "I think their skulls are changing composition. By the time the Lord is finished, they won't be human anymore."

Jack touched Bethany's smooth scalp. The skin felt very warm and hard. He jerked his hand back in surprise.

Smythe turned. "How are you feeling?"

"Not very good," Jack said.

Smythe listened to Jack's heart for a moment. Then the doctor checked Jack's eyes and ears.

"How do I look, doc?"

"Physically, you seem OK," Smythe said. "You slept for half a day, so you should be well rested. What's happening inside your head?"

Jack heard the jingling of the monkey machines in the distance. It wasn't loud, but it was impossible to ignore.

"I'm pretty screwed up. I really want to go back to the casino, but at the same time, I know it's the worst thing for me. I can't think clearly. I'm stuck in a bad dream."

Smythe frowned. "I did a little research this morning. We could try naltrexone. It's a drug used to treat alcohol dependency, but it might help you. There is also buprenorphine. Of course, these are long shots. Gambling addiction is usually treated with therapy, not medication, but this isn't a normal addiction."