Kodiak Sky

CHAPTER 32

Bill finished the brief phone call with a sharp curse under his breath. “We’ve got a situation, Shane,” he said gravely as he pushed “end call” hard with his thumb.

Maddux glanced up. He’d been staring at the .44 Magnum he’d just slid across the table toward Bill. “What is it?”

“We’ve got two RC7 agents down.”

“Down?”

“Dead.”

“Where?”

“One in DC, one outside London.”

“Who?”

“Spencer Boggs in DC, Derek Malone outside London.”

It was Maddux’s turn to curse. “Good guys, great guys. Worse, both were very valuable agents, especially Boggs when it came to sabotage. What happened?”

“Both were shot in the head from long range,” Bill answered bitterly as his phone rang a second time.

“What now?” Maddux asked when Bill ended the second call.

“John Ward’s been shot, too,” Bill said grimly.

He’d known John for sixteen years. They’d been through so much together. It was always difficult when this news came. To a certain extent, he’d gotten used to it over the years. But not this time, not with Ward.

“Is he—”

“Yes, he’s dead.”

“Who was on the phone?” Maddux asked, gesturing at the phone Bill had put down on the tabletop beside the .44. “Who were you talking to?”

“One of the associates I’ve stayed in touch with during all this.” Bill shut his eyes tightly. “Damn it. John was such a good man.”

“The best,” Maddux muttered as he slammed the tabletop with his fist, causing the gun and the phone to jump in tandem. “A lot of Americans are alive today because of John’s courage and commitment to this country, specifically because of the missions he ran in Asia. If he hadn’t, bombs would have been detonated and people would have died. They have no idea what he sacrificed so they could blab on their iPhones while they drive their Beemers in bliss and ignorance through the greatest country in the world,” Maddux said, getting more worked up with each word. “These are not coincidental killings, Bill. We are at war with the executive branch of the United States.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. This has President Dorn written all over it.”

“With Baxter executing.”

“Baxter might be executing it, but he’s doing it on direct orders from Dorn.”

Maddux’s eyes opened wide. “Dorn’s going around the Order, Bill. He’s going around the Supreme Court and avoiding our immunity. He’s thumbing his nose at it and the justices. He’s starting a war that we’ll have no way of officially connecting him to. That has to be what’s going on here.”

Bill nodded. Maddux was right. He hated to think it, but you had to give credit where credit was due. It was an excellent move. Dorn knew there were elements inside RC7 who wanted him dead. It was a very rational, very strategic action on his part. He was going on offense instead of backpedaling against what he knew was a deadly force. You could never win if you were always on defense.

“Dorn’s always hated Red Cell Seven,” Bill muttered, “even before you tried to kill him in LA. That little charade he played last fall about supporting us even though he’d been shot was exactly that, a charade designed to make us relax. And the man’s too much of a control addict to give Baxter a free hand. Plus, he thinks he’s bulletproof with that sky-high approval rating.”

“Which we got for him by stopping the Holiday Mall Attacks,” Maddux grumbled resentfully. “If it really is Dorn behind this, he’s gone completely out of his mind.”

“He’s been out of his mind,” Bill snapped. “He’s been a complete coward about dealing with terrorists ever since he was elected. He let us do the dirty work behind the scenes while he placated all the bleeding hearts in his constituency.”

“Amen.”

“Carlson must have kept a list of RC7 agents at his house in Georgetown,” Bill said. “And when Baxter sent his people to the house last fall after Carlson died, they probably found that list, along with the other original Order. Before they murdered Nancy,” he added bitterly. “That’s the only way I can think of this happening. We’re too careful.”

“I thought there was only one official list of Red Cell Seven agents,” Maddux said deliberately. “And you kept it.”

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Bill saw suspicion rising in Maddux’s expression. “The list is in my room,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. He wasn’t about to let that look smolder. If he did, he might be the next member of RC7 to die, even if he was the cell’s leader. “You want to see it?”

Maddux stared across the table for a few moments. “I don’t know. Do I?”

It was always best to go at Maddux directly on matters like this. You couldn’t let a thing like this fester with him and allow him to draw his own conclusions. Maddux was a man of action, and just like everyone in the world, sometimes he got things wrong. Bill didn’t want this to be one of those times.

“And you’ve been monitoring every call I’ve made in the last nine months,” Bill added accusingly. “Don’t think I don’t know that, Shane.”

Maddux’s gaze dropped slightly. “Yeah, well—”

“Have I called anyone who made you wonder?”

Maddux shook his head. “No.”

Bill took a relieved breath, confident he’d defused Maddux’s suspicions. “Carlson must have kept a list of our people, too, at least a partial one. After all, he ran Red Cell Seven before me. Unfortunately, I think the people who murdered Nancy and got the Order must have found the list at the same time.”

“If that’s true,” Maddux answered ominously, “we’re all at risk.”

Bill nodded. “Yup.”

“Then I’ve gotta get to something right away,” Maddux said, standing up as he pointed at the weapon lying beside Bill’s phone. “You stay here and keep that gun on you at all times. Don’t even go to the can without it.”

“Where are you going?”

“You run the money, Bill; hell, you run the whole show at this point. If we’re really under attack, I can’t have my commander in imminent danger. I’ve got to keep you protected, and we’ve been in this location for a while, so it’s stale. I’m worried that whoever’s coming after us might figure out you’re here and come for you, which would paralyze us if they were successful. I need to find a new place for us to hole up, even if it’s not that far away. But I think you’re better off here than with me while I look for it.” Maddux hesitated. “You’re not as young as you used to be, Bill. No offense.”

Maddux was just being practical. Bill would only weigh him down if a battle broke out. “No offense taken,” Bill replied stoically.

“I’ll be back fast. There have to be other cabins around here we can use, even if it’s just for a few nights. Vacation season’s over.”

“What about the rest of our agents, Shane? We’ve got to warn them right away with that ‘go deep’ code message we’ve got worked out.”

“I’ll send it cell-wide while I’m gone.”

“They can’t know it’s you. Everyone thinks you’re out of the picture.”

“It’ll be anonymous.” Maddux stopped at the cabin’s front door and gestured at Bill, to make sure this advice was fully appreciated. “Keep the lights out and the TV off until I get back. But if someone comes, shoot to kill and ask questions later. Understand?”

“I got it,” Bill agreed as Maddux flipped off the overhead light and closed the cabin’s front door tightly behind him. “I’ll do exactly that.” He picked up the heavy, nickel-plated revolver off the table and gazed at its silhouette in the darkness. “I just hope it makes a difference.”

He eased back into the chair and let the pistol fall to his lap as he sat there in the darkness, wondering if there was another reason Maddux was leaving so quickly.

Then he wondered if he could shoot someone without fully understanding their intentions. It had been a long time since he had.

Baxter smiled thinly as he watched the Espinosa video on his phone one more time. As the woman’s body went limp while Espinosa arched his back in ecstasy, still completely unaware of the murder that had just occurred beneath him. Baxter’s smile grew wider when Espinosa finally realized the terrible truth and stumbled away from the bed awkwardly as he shouted in terror and panic, then threw his clothes on and ran from the apartment like the coward he was.

The same men who’d torn through Roger Carlson’s townhouse and found the Order, as well as the list of agents, had arranged for Espinosa’s young lover to die — and for the justice to be taped having sex with her while she was killed. They were a small team of scarily capable men to whom he’d been introduced by an old contact at ONI. He was very glad they were on his side.

The only task they’d failed him on so far was locating Bill Jensen. But Baxter wasn’t giving up hope on that yet.

He chuckled to himself as he slipped the phone back into his suit. Espinosa was exactly like the phone, thanks to that video — in his pocket.

“Hello, Stewart.”

“Hello, Mr. President,” Baxter answered respectfully, standing up as he always did when President Dorn entered the Oval Office.

He’d been waiting in here for twenty minutes, and he was mad as hell at being kept on ice for so long. But he didn’t show it. He was always the consummate professional. Even if he had been kept waiting because the president was off in some lonely corner of the White House enjoying himself with some young woman the Secret Service had arranged for him while the First Lady was still in Europe.

“How are you tonight, sir?”

“Fine, fine,” Dorn replied impatiently as he eased into the leather chair behind the desk. “Any updates?”

“Yes, sir.” Even though they were alone, Baxter leaned forward and spoke quietly. “Commander McCoy has already initiated her mission. Kodiak Four is operational and achieving success.”

Dorn leaned forward as well and put his elbows on the desk. An intensely satisfied expression came to his face. “Oh?”

“She personally took out one of their senior leaders, a man named John Ward. Two other RC7 agents have also been killed, presumably by people she recruited.”

“How do you know they were killed by others and not her?”

“Commander McCoy is in western New York State. Those other two RC7 agents were shot here in Washington and across the Atlantic in London. She’s a talented young woman, sir. But I don’t think even she could be in that many places at once.”

“I wouldn’t bet against it,” Dorn said with a smug grin. “I’m not sure Commander McCoy is actually human. Not after that stunt she pulled at Camp David.”

“Well, I—”

“I’m just glad I chose her for the job,” the president interrupted.

Baxter muttered to himself quietly. By tomorrow morning Dorn would probably have convinced himself that he was the one who’d originally known Skylar and suggested her for this operation.

“What was that, Stewart? I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing. I also wanted to—”

This time Baxter was interrupted by a knock on the Oval Office door.

“Come in,” Dorn called.

An aide moved into the room, and then quickly shut the door. He shifted on his feet nervously, glancing back and forth between Baxter and the president.

“What is it, son?” Baxter asked. “You can speak freely.”

Still, the young man stayed silent.

“Speak up,” Dorn said impatiently. “Don’t waste my time.”

“We’ve been contacted again,” he finally explained. “We’ve been contacted by the people who kidnapped your daughter.”

“And?”

“And there will be a demand coming soon. They weren’t specific, but they made it sound like they were going to require you to release certain political prisoners in exchange for the release of your daughter. They didn’t name the specific individuals they want set free, but they continue to claim they won’t go public as long as you cooperate.”

Baxter glanced at the president. Dorn was trying hard to seem calm — but he was trying too hard. He knew the president well enough to know that the floor model’s insides were churning right now like Class 5 rapids. If this information went public, the world would know he had a daughter out of wedlock. And if he freed those political prisoners, everyone would know he could be manipulated because of that daughter.

“Is that all?” Baxter asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then leave us. And speak nothing of this.”

“I won’t, sir.” A moment later the young man was gone.

“Mr. President, I think we should—”

“How could you let this happen to me, Stewart?” Dorn demanded angrily.

“What are you talking about?” Baxter asked, shocked.

“How could you let me be so vulnerable?”

“Oh.” Jesus. For a second there it had sounded as if Dorn was accusing him of something else. Baxter’s heart had done five somersaults. “I don’t understand.”

“You should have had Secret Service around Shannon.”

“I didn’t even know about her, sir. Not until the other night, anyway. Not until she’d already been taken. I don’t see how you can possibly—”

“I don’t care,” Dorn snapped as he stood up and headed for the door. “You are my chief of staff. You should not have let this happen to me. It is your fault, Stewart, all your fault,” he called out as he slammed the door.

Baxter stared at the door for a long while. Finally, he broke into a thin smile. “Fuck him.”

The attack would begin in three days, starting promptly at one p.m. eastern. Sterling had communicated that to everyone an hour ago, just before they’d gone to their rooms for the night. Thankfully, there had been no dissension in the group whatsoever, no complaints or concerns at all. Everyone was ready to go and fully committed to Operation Anarchy.

The date and time certain was less than sixty-three hours away, and everything was coming together. Everyone except the secretary of state would be in Washington. Even she might be back by then, if a few things broke right.

They would stay here in Harpers Ferry through the night before, then “break camp” at six a.m. on the morning of OA, heading to Washington together en masse in a bus he’d rented from an outfit in Charles Town, West Virginia. When they got to DC, they’d split up for good, turning into lone wolves again.

They’d abandon the bus there — which, he mused, would probably go on display at some point at the Smithsonian as a memorial to the terrible tragedy. After authorities had pieced everything together and realized that the vehicle had transported all twenty-five assassins to the city.

Every channel in the world would be reporting this story. It would be the biggest of the century — maybe ever.

Sterling stood at the window of his room at the inn and stared into the darkness toward the Potomac River, which flowed quietly and invisibly past him at the bottom of the steep hill. He’d just dropped that red herring of a bomb on the White House about the swap of political prisoners for Shannon, which, of course, was total bullshit. There would be no swap. The demand about releasing political prisoners was simply a ruse to make President Dorn believe it was a normal situation. Without a quid pro quo on the table, Dorn might become suspicious.

Jennie Perez sprinted through the darkness of the Midtown Manhattan parking garage. The money she was supposed to be getting for committing her horrible deeds hadn’t hit her account yet. And maybe it never would, she realized. Maybe she’d been a fool to believe them.

Of course, money had never been her primary motivation in all this. She felt bad for Karen and Little Jack, but Troy had to pay for cheating on her. And for killing Lisa Martinez. Bill Jensen had sworn to her over and over that Troy wasn’t responsible for Lisa’s death. Troy had, too, many times as well. But Jennie didn’t believe them anymore. How could she believe anything that family claimed?

She’d seen the graphic pictures of Troy and a dark-haired woman entwined in each other’s bodies. The man who’d promised to pay her for her treason had shown her so many terrible photos and told her the infidelity had taken place six weeks ago, when Troy was on a mission in Spain. She’d checked her date book, and, sure enough, Troy had gone radio silent during the exact three days the man claimed Troy had been with the woman.

The weird thing for Jennie was that she couldn’t stop looking at the pictures. She kept taking each one the man handed to her and kept staring and staring as her tears flowed. Then she’d taken the next one, which was even more graphic than the last. It had been horrible, but she couldn’t stop. She’d sobbed and sobbed, and her decision was made.

Jennie began to run for her car. She would take the Holland Tunnel out of the city and lose herself somewhere in this big country. She didn’t care anymore if they paid her. Maybe it would be better if they didn’t, now that she really thought about it. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Karen and L.J. were going through. And if the money never came, she could convince herself that it had all been about passion and nothing else.

She screamed as a dark figure stepped out from behind an Escalade. She whirled around and sprinted the other way.

Right into the strong arms of another dark figure.

“Where’s the goddamn plane? I’ve got the handicapped bitch and the little brat in the van with me, and I’m getting nervous.”

“Settle down.”

“Don’t tell me to settle down. I’ve probably got a million cops looking for me at this point. I’ll never see the light of day again if I get caught with them.”

“The cops have no idea yet. We’re monitoring the situation very closely.”

“Well, what’s the deal? I’m tired of sitting here in this parking lot. You never know who’s gonna come along and roust me.”

“The plane had a small problem. They’re replacing a part. It’s a long flight across the Atlantic, and they’ve got to make sure the thing’s in top condition when it takes off.”

“Damn it!”

“Relax. The jet’s at an airport outside Philadelphia. Once it’s fixed it’ll be to you in north Jersey in no time. Do you hear me? In no time.”