The Hunted

78

Hangar 314 was cold and quiet. Knox completed his briefing call to the president and provided all the details at his disposal: Scarponi’s fugitive standing, the plans under way to locate him, and of course, Harper Payne’s status. It was a tough call to make, but the charade had gone on long enough. He knew that at this time of night the president would not want to keep him on the line debating his tactics, lamenting what had gone wrong, or admonishing him for failing to disclose Scarponi’s escape months ago, when it had first occurred. Plus, Knox had the perfect excuse for not having delivered the news in person.

The director had made the call in a small, glass-enclosed office. Getting up from the wooden chair afterward was a chore. He was mentally and physically tired, he was filthy from the mixture of sweat and dirt, and his throat was raw from the soot and other small particulates that had blown off the exploding Navigator and resulting forest fire. But most of all, he was just plain tired. Tired of all the stealth, all the details and secrets he had to keep straight, and all the political maneuverings he had to manage.

He trudged toward the military transport vehicle that was waiting for him against the east wall of the hangar. After he slammed the door, the driver started the engine and drove off.

Lauren climbed into the back of the ambulance and the door clicked shut behind her, leaving her in complete darkness. “Hello?”

Suddenly, the vehicle began to move, throwing her backward. She fell and landed on the floor against the padded bench that ran the length of the interior. She pulled herself up and sat down. “Is anyone here?”

Again, no one answered. She made her way in the dark toward the front of the ambulance and felt around for a window of some sort that would give her access to the driver. There was nothing. She banged on the wall. “Where are you taking me?”

The lack of a response did not surprise her. In fact, it fit quite well with her already bizarre week. The ambulance continued on for another few minutes, at which point it seemed to leave the paved roads of the base for something that felt more like a secondary artery of some sort.

With the vehicle bouncing and swaying as it navigated the uneven terrain, Lauren held the bench with both hands, staring into the darkness. At this point, all she cared about was getting answers. Answers about Michael, about Bradley, about the rest of her life. She needed closure.

The ambulance listed left before coming to a lurching stop. The rear door opened and the stocky man she had seen a short time ago in the assembly room climbed in. He reached above his head and flipped a switch, bathing the interior in light. “Agent Troy Rodman. I was with Director Knox—”

“Where’s my husband?”

Rodman looked at her a long moment, as if he were sizing her up. He then reached over to the front wall and banged on it twice with a fist. The ambulance began moving again.

“There are some things we need to discuss first, Dr. Chambers.”

Lauren looked away. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“But I have some things to say to you. And I think you’ll want to hear them.” Rodman sat down beside her. “Approximately eight years ago, Harper Payne was an FBI agent who went deep undercover to infiltrate the organization of a prolific international hit man, Anthony Scarponi. He worked with Scarponi for two years before the Bureau pulled him out and terminated his assignment. He testified against Scarponi and a list of Scarponi’s ‘customers’ and put them all behind bars. That was six years ago.

“After the trial, Agent Payne was placed in the Federal WITSEC Program. Witness protection. He remained in it for a year or so, then dropped out of sight. A few months ago, Scarponi’s attorneys came up with a new witness they said would contradict all of Payne’s testimony. The judge bought their story and the Bureau knew it would have to somehow find Payne so he could testify again. But finding him wasn’t easy.

“After searching for weeks, the Bureau received a tip that proved promising. Agents were dispatched to Placerville, and they began observing your husband.”

“How could I not have known that Michael was once an FBI agent?”

“Things are not always what they appear to be, Dr. Chambers.” Rodman inched forward on the bench and angled his body to face hers. “Think for a moment. What did you know of Michael’s life before you met him five years ago? And of what you did know, how much of it did he himself tell you, and how do you know what he told you is true?”

Rodman paused for a moment, and when Lauren started to answer, he held up a hand. “That was a rhetorical question, Dr. Chambers. Point is, we don’t always know the person we think we know so well. This is how the CIA operates. Its operatives are everyday people. The person at the phone company, the attorney in Pocatello, Idaho. Perhaps your gynecologist. The Agency uses these people because they’re everyday people. They can go on business trips and carry out intelligence missions and no one will ever suspect them. For security reasons — theirs as well as the Agency’s — even their spouses don’t know they do covert work.”

Lauren folded her arms across her chest. “You’re saying I didn’t know my husband well enough?”

“I’m saying that things are not what they appear to be.”

Just then, the ambulance turned sharply and pulled to an abrupt stop.

“Why are we stopping?”

“We’re picking up a passenger,” Rodman said.

The back door swung open and Nick Bradley climbed into the rear compartment. Lauren sat there, her head tilted in confusion. “I don’t understand,” she finally managed just before Bradley sat down opposite her. “Knox arrested you, he said you were a spy.”

“That was all a show, for my protection. It had to look convincing, in case there are other moles.” Bradley turned to Rodman. “I take it you haven’t told her yet.”

“Not yet.”

“Told me what?” Lauren looked back and forth between the two men. “Look, I’ve had enough! One of you better start giving me some answers. No more top secret CIA garbage. I want the truth, Nick, and I want it now.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Bradley said. “I owe you an explanation.” He looked away and said, “I owe you more than an explanation, but for the moment it’ll have to do.” He unzipped his leather jacket and leaned back. “When Carla Mae called me and told me about the Neighborhood Watch meeting she’d arranged for you, it didn’t seem any different from all the other meetings she’d gotten together over the past two years. She told me your husband was missing and asked if I could come by early in the afternoon and help put up the fliers. When I showed up and saw Michael’s photo, I suddenly realized that you had something that could help me.”

“What do you mean? What did I have that could possibly help you?”

Bradley looked at Rodman, then at Lauren. “Your husband.”

Lauren cocked her head. “Nick, what the hell are you talking about? I didn’t have my husband, that was the whole problem.”

“I know you didn’t, but that was the beauty of it. I knew you would go looking for Michael. You had to, any person who wanted her spouse back would have. Just like I knew you’d look for him, I knew Scarponi would look for him as well.”

“Scarponi? What’s he got to do with this?”

“Scarponi wanted Harper Payne dead. Kill Payne, and there’s no one left to testify against him. He’s a free man. Right?”

Lauren nodded.

“So as soon as Scarponi is released from prison, who does he go after?” Bradley spread his hands apart, as if the answer was obvious. “He goes after Harper Payne. He’s looking for him just like the feds are looking for him. Only Scarponi lets the feds do the work for him. He’s got a mole planted in the Bureau, tracking their progress. When they figure out that Harper Payne is in Placerville, bang — the feds dispatch agents and Scarponi dispatches his men. But Michael’s gone on his trip and the feds regroup, track him down, and snatch him up, sort of. But Scarponi doesn’t know the feds have Payne. He’s a smart guy, so he knows his best way to get to Payne is you. All he has to do is watch you, follow you, tease and torment you, and you’ll lead him to what he’s seeking.”

“So that answers what Scarponi wanted with me. What about you? What did you want with him?”

“To be completely honest, I wanted Scarponi dead. I knew that if I hung out with you, he’d eventually come around looking for Michael. And even if he didn’t, you’d lead me to Michael, and then I could use Michael as bait. Either way, I’d meet up with Scarponi and get my shot.”

“You used me,” Lauren said, her hands gripping the bench tighter. “All that stuff about being my big brother and my guardian angel, about the child of yours that you lost, all of that was bullshit.”

“No, no, it wasn’t, Lauren. At least, well… okay, in the beginning it was. I apologize for that. But as I got to know you, you became more of a person I cared about rather than just a means to an end. That’s when things got a little out of hand for me, because I got personally involved. That was my biggest mistake.”

“And my biggest mistake was trusting you.”

Bradley held up a hand. “That’s not what I meant. In law enforcement, you lose your edge, your effectiveness, when you can’t think objectively. I lost my objective edge when I started caring about what happened to you.”

Lauren was silent for a moment, thinking through what Bradley had told her. “Even if I can get past that, which I’m not sure I can, I still don’t understand what was in it for you. What was this all about? Why did you want Scarponi so badly?”

“Can’t I just say that it was important to me and leave it at that?”

“No, Nick, you can’t. You owe me the truth.”

“You’re placing me in a tough spot, Lauren.”

“The truth, Nick.”

Bradley bowed his head for a moment, as if considering his options. Finally, he cleared his throat. “There’s no easy way to say this.” He looked up and met her tired eyes. “Lauren, I’m Harper Payne.”