The Jefferson Allegiance (40 page)

The FBI agent went still. Even though he had feared it, the confirmation of betrayal still struck deep. “You want me to do your dirty work.”

“I want you to do your duty,” Turnbull said. When he got no response, he added: “What do
you
want?”

“To keep you from interfering with the trade.”

“So you’ve thrown your hand in with Ducharme,” Turnbull said. He shrugged. “I have no plans to interfere with the trade. I
want
the trade to happen as much as Ducharme does.”

“Who is on the Blackhawk with the Surgeon?” Burns asked, pulling out his satphone.

“Professor Tolliver, as requested.”

“And how many of your hired guns?”

“Six,” Turnbull said. He opened the driver’s door of the Town Car. “Why don’t you use my car and join Ducharme and his friend Kincannon? Give them a hand.” He stepped away from the car. “I’ll be right here, waiting to hear what happens.”

Burns hesitated, but got in. The keys were in the ignition. He cranked the engine and headed away, punching in a speed dial on his satphone at the same time.

************

“You’ve got six mercenaries on board the Blackhawk along with the Surgeon and Tolliver.” Burns’s voice was strained.

Ducharme threw an infrared chem light out into the field, in front of the Huey, to mark the landing zone. “Figured as much.”

“I’m en route to your location by ground.”

“And Turnbull?”

“Says he’s waiting to hear what happens.”

Ducharme paused from checking the magazine in his sub-machinegun. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“Actually,” Burns disagreed, “it sounds exactly like him. He’s playing this from every angle, letting everyone else get their hands dirty.”

“What’s the angle he wants?”

“The disks,” Burns said.

“He’s—“ Ducharme heard the sound of an incoming helicopter. “Got to go. See you shortly.”

He glanced to his right where Sergeant Major Kincannon stood tall, weapon at the ready. The landing Blackhawk sent a flurry of snow in their direction. As the large helicopter’s engines wound down, a single figure dressed in a long black cloak stepped out of the left side cargo bay door.

Ducharme kept the muzzle of his weapon lowered, and took a few steps forward. “Close enough,” he called out when the Surgeon was about ten feet away.

“The disks?” the Surgeon demanded.

“Tolliver?”

The Surgeon flicked her hand up and the other side door on the Blackhawk opened. A figure was roughly shoved out, followed by six heavily-armed men. Evie struggled to her feet, hands cuffed behind her back, receiving no help.

“I have what you want,” the Surgeon said, “
and
I have the power to
make
you give me what I want.”

“You’re wrong,” Ducharme said.

The Surgeon’s hand drifted inside her coat, going toward the handle of her sword. “Give me the disks and take your woman.”

They both turned as a set of headlights carved down the dirt road leading to the clearing. Three of the merks turned their weapons in that direction while the other three kept theirs trained on Ducharme and Kincannon. An armored Lincoln Town Car pulled up, forming the third point in a deadly triangle. Agent Burns exited the driver’s side, his pistol at the ready.

“We still have the firepower,” the Surgeon said. “Give me—“

Her head swiveled back and forth as a half-dozen figures in camouflage, holding M-14 rifles, stepped out of the surrounding trees.

“Mine’s bigger,” Ducharme said. “This is Army turf.”

The Surgeon remained still.

He took a step closer. “Un-cuff Tolliver.”

The Surgeon gestured and one of her men who did as he was told.

“Now,” Ducharme spoke slowly, sensing the Surgeon was on the edge. “Give the rod and disks to Tolliver.”

The Surgeon took a step toward Ducharme, hand still inside her cloak. He brought the muzzle of his weapon up. “I
will
put a round straight through your eyeball and blow your fucking brains all over the inside of that hood.”

She stopped, breathing hard, practically hyperventilating.

“The disks and rod to Tolliver,” Ducharme ordered.

The Surgeon’s other hand moved and from an interior pocket, she pulled out a leather bag. She held it up.

“Switch hands,” Ducharme ordered, needing to get the bag in her sword hand. Disappointment crossed her face, but she did so.

“Don’t get in my line of fire,” Ducharme warned Evie. She hurried forward. Burns also headed over. Evie took the bag, and Ducharme’s finger caressed the trigger, but the Surgeon did nothing.

“Took you long enough.” Evie looked about. “Who are the soldiers?”

“Third Infantry.” Ducharme kept his focus on the Surgeon and her men. “Weapons on the ground.”

They reluctantly complied.

“Master Sergeant,” Ducharme called out. The same senior non-commissioned officer who had confronted him on his visit to Arlington stepped forward.

“Sir?”

“Secure these people. I’m sure Agent Burns will be back for them. As soon as you have them secure, leave some guards and follow.”

“Roger that.”

“Did you bring what I asked?”

The Master Sergeant gestured, and a soldier came forward carrying a large kit bag.

“Put it on the helicopter,” Ducharme ordered. As soon as it was on, the Huey took off, disappearing into the night sky.

“Where are we going?” Evie asked.

As the 3
^rd
Infantry soldiers cuffed the Surgeon and the six mercenaries, Ducharme finally lowered his sub-machinegun and looked at her. “What happened to your face?”

“It’s not important,” Evie said, but her hand went to the red skin on her cheek and rubbed it.

“Do you know where the last five disks are?”

“’No one’s and everyone’s,’” Evie said. “I’ve been thinking about it, but it’s kind of vague. I don’t have a historical reference.”

“They’re here,” Ducharme said.

“’Here’?” Evie looked about. “You mean Arlington.”

Ducharme nodded. He looked from her to Kincannon, to Burns. His motley team trying to save the country. He turned to his right and headed toward the trees separating them from the National Cemetery. “Let’s go get them.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“They’re moving, sir.”

Turnbull got in the passenger seat of one of the Suburbans and looked at the GPS display on the dash. A small red dot, representing the bug he had planted on Tolliver during the few minutes he’d had her, was moving from Ft. Myer into Arlington. He nodded. “Very good. Let’s roll.”

***********

Ducharme led them out of the trees onto a road. Arlington House was to their left. Evie was at his side, and Kincannon was on one flank with Burns on the other.

They made their way deeper into the cemetery. Gardens of stone appeared on both sides. They reached an intersection. According to the signpost, the road they were on, Wilson Drive, made a sharp left. The road continuing straight was now named Memorial Drive.

There was a glow about a hundred yards to the left front.
Memorial
. Ducharme continued straight. A large circular structure appeared. A series of colonnades compromised the outer rim. Ducharme led his team through the entrance into the Amphitheater. Rows of benches lined the interior, facing a small covered platform.

They went down the center aisle and to the side of the platform. Exiting the Amphitheater there was a broad series of steps down to a brightly lit plaza with a single marble sarcophagus and three marble slabs in front of it. Marching in front of it was a soldier in dress blues with an M-14 at shoulder arms.

“The Tomb of the Unknowns,” Evie whispered.

Ducharme glanced at her. “It’s the perfect place to hide something you want protected. Since nineteen thirty-seven the Tomb has been guarded non-stop, twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year.”

“But
someone
is buried there,” Evie said.

The Sentinel came to the end of his twenty-one paces—equal to the twenty-one gun salute. He halted and turned, facing the tomb, remaining perfectly still for 21 seconds. Then he turned back the way he come, went to shoulder arms on the side facing away from the grave, remained still for the same amount of time, and then began his next twenty-one steps. There was a deep simplicity and gravity to it.

“Not in all the graves,” Ducharme said.

***********

The 3
^rd
Infantry had left two men as guards. A sign of over-confidence in Lily’s opinion. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and she was seated on the metal edge of the Blackhawk’s cargo bay. She waited until the guards’ focus was outwards, and then jammed her left hand between the edge of the co-pilot’s seat and the frame of the helicopter.

She took a deep breath, and then abruptly leveraged her arm, cracking the bones in her hand. The tearing of flesh and splintering of bones shot pain up her arm, refreshing her. A couple of the mercenaries heard and turned to stare at her, shocked expressions on their faces—they certainly weren’t getting paid enough to do that. Pausing only to take another deep breath, she pulled her right hand, with all her strength while forcing the left to hold in place. The metal cuff scraped skin, compressing broken bones, cracking them further, and then the loop of metal freed her left hand.

Checking to make sure the Army guards were still looking toward the surrounding woods, she strode over to the pile of weapons and retrieved her wakizashi. Her left hand was on fire and dangling uselessly, but her right gripped the handle of the sword and drew it. She was on the first guard, sliding the blade across his throat before he was aware there was a threat.

His dying gasp caused the other one to turn. She swung her sword. His head tumbled into the snow as blood still pumped out of the severed stump of his neck and the body slowly collapsed.

Tucking the bloody sword under her arm, she pulled the cuff keys out of his combat vest and turned to the mercenaries.

***********

“Halt! Who goes there?” The sentry swung his weapon from shoulder arms to at-the-ready.

“Colonel Ducharme, Sergeant Major Kincannon and Special Agent Burns from FBI.” Ducharme stepped onto the Plaza. The guard seemed uncertain what to do. Not many infiltrations on the Tomb of the Unknowns.

A voice called out authoritatively from the left. “At ease, Sergeant.”

Ducharme recognized the voice of the Master Sergeant from the 3
^rd
Infantry and so did the sentry, who lowered his weapon and snapped to a position of port arms. The Master Sergeant came up to Ducharme. “I’ve gone along with you this far, but I can’t allow you to violate the grave of one of the Unknowns.”

Ducharme nodded. “I’m not asking you to violate a soldier’s burial place. I need to look in an empty grave.” The Master Sergeant understood right away, but still hesitated.

Kincannon stepped forward. “This is important.”

The Master Sergeant looked doubtful, but nodded. “All right, sir. Do no damage.”

“Thank you,” Ducharme said. He walked toward the sarcophagus, Evie following. There were three marble slabs laid even with the plaza spread in front of it. He knelt in front of the center one. Kincannon hung back with the others.

“The Unknown from World War One is buried underneath the sarcophagus.” Ducharme then nodded toward the slab to his left. “That’s the Unknown from World War Two.” He gestured to his right. “The Korean War.”

“And this one?” Evie asked, pointing at the one directly in front of him.

Ducharme reached down and ran his fingers across the words etched in the marble. “It reads: ‘Honoring and Keeping Faith with America’s Missing Servicemen.’ It used to read ‘Vietnam’ along with the dates of that war.”

“’Used to’?” Evie asked.

“The Unknown from Vietnam was exhumed in nineteen ninety-eight, and the DNA was tested. He was identified and returned to his family. The tomb was left empty.”

“’No one’s and everyone’,” Evie said.

“Exactly.” Ducharme pulled a short crowbar out of his vest and slid the edge underneath the lip of the marble. He caught the edge and then put all his weight onto it. The slab didn’t move. Evie knelt next to him and added her weight, her body pressing against his. Stone rumbled and the slab lifted. Hooking his fingers underneath, Ducharme grunted as he lifted the slab higher and held it in place. An empty crypt.