The Hunted

76

The medevac helicopter descended from the dark, windswept heavens and hit its mark on the helipad beside the Vandenheim Air Force Base Security Police Building, a stone’s throw from the adjacent military hospital. Knox leapt from the rear door of the chopper into intense brightness, as a circle of round mercury spotlights were trained on the landing pad. Before he took a step, he was met by several FBI agents and a contingent of Security Police in crisp, well-turned-out uniforms and polished boots. Bringing up the rear were two fatigue-clad men who headed straight for the director.

“Hodges and Ventura,” Knox yelled above the din of the Black Hawk’s blades, “when you’re done with Agent Payne’s body, meet me at Hangar Three-Fourteen.” The two OPSIG agents, colleagues of DeSantos, Archer, and Rodman, nodded and proceeded into the rear compartment of the helicopter.

Surrounded by the agents and police detail, Knox was ushered into the Security Police Building and through the armory, a rectangular room that was rimmed with stalls outfitted with military garb: bulletproof vests, helmets, two-way radios, and an assortment of paraphernalia a small troop would need heading into an emergency situation.

Knox entered the large assembly room and stopped. He gave a quick look around at the mass of security personnel and nodded.

“Okay. Bring our guests in here,” he said to one of the security cops.

Lauren Chambers sat beside Nick Bradley on a wooden bench in a small anteroom. When they had been escorted there shortly after their arrival, they were told they had to wait, as Harper Payne was being brought via ambulance to rendezvous with them at the base. Security Police were abundant, guarding every Entry Control Point and select areas in between.

They had sat for almost two hours without receiving so much as one update from the security cops. Lauren repeatedly asked for information, but each time she was told to sit down and wait patiently — or leave. Still, she knew they would not have allowed her to come there if they hadn’t intended to reunite her with Michael. Otherwise, what was the point? The government had their witness back, and whether or not Michael wanted to testify, at least he was safe. He could do his deed for the U.S. Attorney and then be free to go wherever he wished. Or so she hoped.

Suddenly, movement was everywhere. Several security cops moved into the room and two moved out. Three converged on one another near the far doorway and spoke in hushed tones, their rigid postures a sign of their training rather than the particular urgency of the situation, she figured. A moment later, one of the policemen turned to face them.

“Come with me,” he said, then ushered them down a long, spotless hallway.

They entered the assembly room and were led to a tall, silver-haired man, who was pacing in front of a closed door. His face was stern and stressed. He stopped in his tracks and looked at Bradley, completely ignoring Lauren’s presence. He nodded at two agents who had come up behind Bradley, then simply said, “Take him away.”

“What’s this about?” Bradley asked as one of the men snapped handcuffs on his wrists.

“You’re under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Wait a minute,” Lauren said, “he’s with me. There must be some kind of mistake.”

Another agent took hold of her arms and pulled her backward, out of the way. “There’s no mistake.”

“Please, Dr. Chambers, don’t interfere,” the man with the silver hair said.

The agents pulled a struggling Bradley through a set of doors ten feet away as he continued to argue with them. “I didn’t do anything…”

The metal door closed behind them and the room was suddenly quiet again.

“What’s going on? Who are you?” Lauren said.

“FBI director Douglas Knox.”

“Where’s my husband, where’s Michael?”

“It gets very complicated, Dr. Chambers.” Knox placed a hand on the crook of her elbow and indicated he wanted her to walk with him to a bench along the far wall. “If you’ll take a seat and allow me to explain—”

“I’m not interested in sitting,” she said, yanking her arm away. “And I’m not interested in talking. I just want to know where my husband is, Mr. Knox. I’ve been waiting here for two hours. Now either tell me where Michael is or I’ll go to the press and tell them what I know.” Her face felt blush red.

“And what exactly is it that you know?” Knox asked quizzically.

Lauren thought for a moment before answering. “I know that my husband isn’t dead.”

“Interesting. You’d tell them that, without knowing the whole story?”

“I’d tell them just about anything if it would make you tell me the truth!”

“Fine,” Knox said, his brow bunched with anger. “We’ll do it your way. You want to know where your husband is? He’s dead, Dr. Chambers, that’s where he is.”

Knox’s voice echoed in the painted cinder-block room. The scores of agents and Security Police were still. No one moved, no one spoke, no one seemed to breathe.

Lauren stood there looking at Knox, unsure whether he was telling her the truth. “That was just a story for the media, so Scarponi would stop trying to kill him.” Though she did not intend to project her uncertainty, there was a waver in her voice.

Knox stepped closer to her. “And who told you that?”

“Nick, Nick Bradley, the man you just arrested.”

Knox’s mouth curled into a disparaging frown. “That man is a mole, Dr. Chambers, a spy. We’ve been after him for six years. He’s been using you to get to your husband. I wouldn’t trust anything he told you.”

Lauren’s eyes darted around the room, touching each of the men surrounding her in the periphery. Was this possible? Could Nick be a spy? Suddenly her mind was a flurry of thoughts…

all the inconsistencies in Nick’s stories…

the fact that Michael was not just her husband, but really an FBI agent and an assassin…

and now Nick — someone she’d come to know so well, someone she had come to trust — was actually a spy who’d been using her?

She looked up at the FBI director and forced certainty into her voice. “Nick Bradley is a small-time private investigator in Placerville, California.”

“That’s his cover. He was working with someone else here in Washington. That’s all I can tell you.”

“No, that can’t be right. You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Look, Dr. Chambers. I know that learning your husband is dead is a terrible shock. You came here thinking you were going to see him. We had to allow the situation to play itself out so we could get Bradley here. That’s why we chose this location as a rendezvous point. There isn’t a place much more secure than an air force base. Once Bradley was in here, there’d be no way for him to escape. It was a perfect plan, if you ask me.”

“Enough lies! Michael’s not dead and Nick’s not a spy.”

Knox sighed, shook his head, then folded his arms across his chest. “I’m going against my better judgment in telling you this, but maybe it’ll put your mind at ease that I’ve given you full disclosure. It’s absolutely essential you don’t repeat anything I’m about to tell you. Not ever. Do I have your word?”

“Of course.” She would have agreed to just about anything at this point to get at the truth.

“Okay. Yes, we did release disinformation to the press describing Agent Payne’s death in the shootout at Fredericksburg. Truth is, he was only superficially wounded. But this evening, while we were transferring him to this facility, he was engaged in an operation designed to assist us in apprehending a dangerous fugitive, the man you mentioned before — Anthony Scarponi. Against my direct orders, he leaped from our helicopter and attempted to subdue Scarponi, who was in a sports utility vehicle below us. Scarponi’s car went out of control and your husband was severely injured. A medevac helicopter was summoned at twenty-one hundred hours and he died en route, presumably from internal injuries directly related to the impact. I’m sorry.”

Lauren felt the life drain from her body. Her shoulders slumped and she was light-headed.

“I can arrange for you to get some counseling, if you would like. At the moment, I have to brief the president. Agent Haviland,” Knox called to a man standing off to the side, “can you please take care of Dr. Chambers?” He turned back to Lauren. “Agent Haviland will see to your needs.”

Lauren composed herself as Knox headed toward the door. She couldn’t let him leave, not yet, not without having some form of confirmation that what he had told her was true. “Wait,” she said, starting after him. “If Michael’s dead, I want to see his body.”

Knox stopped and swung his body around dubiously, as if it were a bother to have to continue dealing with her. “Fine, I’ll see if it can be arranged. Maybe sometime tomorrow afternoon.”

Lauren lunged forward with the alacrity of a cat, grabbing Knox’s lapels with both hands. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit,” she yelled. “I want to see my husband now!” Her eyes were blazing with anger, her skin clammy with fear.

Four men were upon her a split second later, instantly unlatching her grip on the director using a pressure point on her thumbs. She struggled with the agents, but was unable to break their hold.

“Let her go,” Knox said calmly.

The men instantly released their grips but did not move from where they stood: at the ready, poised to immediately neutralize another outburst.

The click of a door opening behind Knox drew everyone’s attention. A stocky black man walked in and nodded to the director, whose face appeared to brighten.

“Rodman,” Knox said to the man, “are we ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

Knox looked over at one of the agents off to his left. “Agent Haviland, escort Dr. Chambers to Hangar One-Nineteen so she can see Agent Payne’s body. I’ll meet up with her as soon as I’m finished with my call to the president.”

“Thank you,” Lauren said.

Knox turned and walked out of the room.