Hidden Threat (61 page)

“
You’re sick, Nina. I never saw it before, but now that I’m free of you and Mama, it’s like I never knew anything else.”

Amanda looked toward the back door where she heard a noise. Gus Randel came walking in the double French doors that led to the deck.

“
Gus, oh, am I glad you are here!” Amanda gasped, running toward her mother’s boyfriend. She hugged him hard, remembering all the times he had sided with her against her mother. As she wrapped her arms around him, she noticed that he didn’t reciprocate. She pushed away from his muscular frame.

Looking into his eyes, she instantly knew that something was wrong. He had a thousand-yard stare, looking through her. She had never seen evil personified, but at this moment she thought that he might be a good candidate.

“
You know what to do,” Nina said to Gus. “She’s yours if you want her.” Then she said to Amanda, “Payback’s a bitch.”

Gus’s grip tightened on Amanda. She temporarily broke free then pushed him hard in the chest.

“
What the hell are you doing listening to this crazy bitch!”

He was unfazed and continued to come toward her. Nina was to her front now with something in her hand. Gus Randel was to her left toward the back door and moving in her direction. She reached up and tilted the sofa back, blocking Gus’s progress, then ran for the front door. Nina looked toward the door, her head moving like that of a predator protecting its kill—a
T. rex
sizing up its prey.

There was a sound in the driveway. Amanda pulled open the front door but saw no one. She then turned to look as she heard two car doors slam, followed by, “Amanda?”

After a moment, she looked back at Nina and Gus.

Who were gone.

The back door past the sofa was slightly ajar. Amanda remained frozen in place as Harlan Foxworth and Mary Ann Singlaub came into the house through the garage.

“
Amanda?” Mary Ann called out from the foyer.

Amanda turned her head toward the front door as a wave of relief washed over her. “They were just here! My grandmother and Gus Randel. They did all this!”

Harlan stepped outside, looked around the corner and then came back in. “Calm down, Amanda. The police have them in custody.”

“
What? How?” Amanda stepped outside into the humid afternoon sun. She saw a red mustang parked behind a police cruiser that was flashing its blue lights. Two uniformed cops had Gus and Nina in handcuffs. They were standing in the street. One uniform was talking on a Motorola radio.

Amanda could see a man dressed in civilian clothes holstering a pistol.

“
Principal Rugsdale?”

Harlan nodded. “It seems your principal Mr. Rugsdale is a reserve detective in the police force. He worked the staged crime scene at Dagus’s house for what are now obvious reasons. The memory chip they found at your teacher’s house turned out to be Randel’s. Apparently Randel had planted it there. There were several deleted pictures that the digital exploitation team was able to recover. It seems that you never really erase something from a hard drive.”

Amanda had been looking at the stone porch, leaning against Mary Ann, who was hugging her from behind.

“
No, I guess not,” Amanda whispered. “It’s all still there.”

“
Anyway, Rugsdale reviewed the chip, and they found several deleted photos of Gus Randel with women, most of whom appeared unconscious. Of course, this led to a warrant to search Randel’s condo in Spartanburg. He had downloaded all of these photos onto his laptop. We also found out that he had a contract with the
Charlotte Observer
to use the name Del Dangurs.”

“
How did Dagus get involved in all of this?”

“
Simple,” Harlan continued. “His media watchdog group had been pursuing Del Dangurs for years for publishing bogus stories. He had been collecting Dangurs’ stories; that’s what you found. The article written to compromise your dad’s credibility finally gave him a causus belli with the editors of
The Observer
. The exploitation team found some talking points on his computer referencing unverified sources in the article. Dagus apparently believed he was going to be famous for using the story Randel wrote on your father as an example of journalists just making stuff up. He was fighting to show that the article was bogus when your grandmother offered him up Brianna.

“
But don’t have too much sympathy for him, either. Despite the nobility of his effort with the reporting, we have identified several fifteen- to seventeen-year-old girls he has manipulated and taken advantage of, based on his computer files. Some are stepping forward, others not.”

Amanda slipped away from Mary Ann and sat down on the steps.

“
What chaos.”

“
These are the types of people your grandmother and mother held dear.”

Amanda stared at the bricks, an emptiness overtaking her.

“
This was all so Dagus wouldn’t expose the article about my dad as bogus?”

“
That’s the way it seems. Your father’s house was burned down, Jake was set up for it, a man is dead, and your mother and grandmother stand to spend a very long time in prison, all because they wanted to suppress the memory of your father.

“
Hence, my advice to—”

“
Stay out of the way.” All three of them said it in unison.

Mary Ann gave her a moment and then asked, “Ready to go save the world?”

“
Just a second,” Amanda replied as she regained her composure. Her heart was pounding like a war drum in her chest. She walked back into the house, leaned over the coffee table and picked up the note. She carried it back to the porch, where Harlan and Mary Ann looked at her. Opening the note, she read:

Amanda, I got called away on a very important mission, as your dad would say. I asked Harlan and Mary Ann to take you to the airport. I have your address in Africa. I promise I will be in touch . . . very soon. Never lose hope.

Love,

Riley

“
Never lose hope,” she whispered. She remembered opening the package from Matt, who had written the same words.
Never lose hope
. You have to have it to lose it, she thought to herself.

“
And now I have hope,” she said to herself as she felt Mary Ann’s arm wrap around her. It wasn’t much, but it was the best thing she’d ever had.

“
Yes, I’m ready.”

“
One last thing,” Harlan said. They began walking together down the steps of the porch. They stood on the sidewalk that led to the driveway and took in the beaming sun blessing them with its warmth.

“
Yes?”

“
My bill. We never finished discussing how you would pay me for this.”

Amanda thought his timing was a bit inappropriate, but she recognized that he had done a tremendous amount of work for her.

“
I understand.”

“
Maybe you do, Amanda.” He handed her a piece of paper, which she opened at the folds. There was some printing at the top that stated this was the complete and final bill. She searched for numbers but only saw in big, bold print:

Grow up to be like your Dad. The Germans lost.

She started crying. Mary Ann hugged her again. That seemed to be her role.

“
Thank you. I will.”

CHAPTER 87

Djibouti

Saturday

“
A server farm?” Matt asked.

He, Hobart and Van Dreeves had been picked up by the planned MH-47 helicopter after their narrow escape from the target house in Yemen. The Chinook had transported them back to the joint task force headquarters in Djibouti, a destitute country 150 miles across the Gulf of Aden.

Consistent with their operating routine, they had been off the grid for several days. Invading Yemen was no small deal and immediately upon their escape to Djibouti, their orders were to go dark immediately. Surfacing this Saturday morning, Matt, Hobart, and Van Dreeves assessed the damage.

“
The Yemeni police have been in there for days trying to figure out what the hell happened. Global Hawk’s been snapping pictures. The place is a giant smoking hole,” Hobart said.

They were sitting on a picnic table outside of the control tower of the airfield. Matt was staring at a Gulfstream 5 jet with two pilots who were probably becoming more pissed by the minute as Matt languished. He was hesitant to leave unfinished business, yet eager about what he intended to do next.

“
How about the houses on either side? They go up in smoke?”

“
Untouched,” Hobart said.

That bothered Matt, big time. Hobart and Van Dreeves had spotted tunnels that ran from the center house to the homes on either flank.

“
How about the prisoner?”

“
Four days and he still hasn’t said a word,” Van Dreeves said. The three men wore their Revision ballistic eyewear, otherwise known as wraparound sunglasses. Matt kept staring at the Gulfstream and the pilots, he knew, were staring at him.

Matt had collared the “medic” that they had tossed in the back of the ambulance as they limped to the pick-up zone where they loaded their stowed parachutes and the detainee. Upon landing in Djibouti, the military interrogators swiftly moved him to a holding cell for questioning.

“
Nervous about Rampert?” Hobart asked Matt.

“
He doesn’t have us along, how can I not be nervous?”

“
He’s got Samuels and Roberson. They’re good.”

“
I’d rather be there,” Matt said.

“
You can’t be everywhere, dude. And right now that airplane is waiting to take you where you should be,” Van Dreeves said.

“
You’ve got the list?”

“
We’ve got the list, Matt. Your headquarters has the list. The issue will be keeping it out of the hands of douche bags like Assange and those Wiki-leak idiots.”

“
Add him to the list,” Matt said, smiling as he stood.

“
Roger that.”

Hobart and Van Dreeves stood, each man shaking Matt’s hand and giving him a half-hug, the shoulder to shoulder bump that signified respect amongst warriors.

“
Wish we could go with you, but we’ve got to wait for Rampert once he gets Rahman.”

“
Don’t go easy on him,” Matt said, meaning everything he implied.

Both men smiled as Matt turned and walked toward the Gulfstream.

“
Give him our best,” Hobart said.

Matt acknowledged Hobart with a curt wave as he boarded the airplane.

***

Quetta, Pakistan

Major General Jack Rampert was dressed in a traditional Afghan headdress and white man-dress. He had grown a well-defined beard and easily passed for a local. He twirled a cup of chai tea on his table in the mud hut restaurant in Jalalabad. Enough time had passed since the helicopter shoot-down. They were back in mission rhythm.

His informant had told him to wait in this spot, as an important meeting was going to take place in the next building over. He studied his surroundings. There were two men dressed similarly to him sitting in the far corner at a small wooden table. Another man was squatting on his haunches smoking a pipe of some kind. Rampert figured it was hash.

The primary comforting thought for him was that two operatives were in concealed positions with long rifles outside of the building. With Hobart and Van Dreeves with Matt in Djibouti, he had decided to lead this mission. It was the least he could do for Zach. Samuels and Roberson were his team for this mission. They had clear shots if extreme measures were necessary. They wanted to capture this individual, but they would kill him if necessary.

Rampert could see outside of the open-air restaurant, which had two lambs hanging upside down in the front. They had been slaughtered and skinned.

“
Assalamu alaikum.
Peace be with you,” the merchant greeted him. He bent over, blocking Rampert’s important view, and refilled his tea mug.

“
Wa alaikum assalaam
. And on you, peace.”

The man switched out the napkin underneath his mug and placed his hand over his heart. Rampert reciprocated the sign of good will. As the man departed, he lifted his tea mug and sipped the warm beverage. He then lifted the napkin and opened it.

The Scientist. Two minutes

Rampert folded the napkin and scratched his ear. As he did so he whispered into his cuff. “Two mikes.” It was a simple transmission that they had rehearsed. The lack of additional information meant the Scientist was arriving according to plan. Rampert’s drive to capture Mullah Rahman had been based upon his declaration of a
Fatwah
against Colonel Garrett. He wanted that over with so that everyone could move on. That was his promise to Matt Garrett.

Presently the black SUV in which the Scientist was believed to be seated stopped in front of the open hut. It skidded to a halt, dust flaring from beneath its rear tires. Immediately, security personnel from lead and trail vehicles swarmed the black SUV. Doors were opening and slamming with a
click
and a
thunk
. The clicks might have been the charging of weapons.