They'll Call It Treason (13 page)

January 29 at 3:55
p.m.
EST

Greensboro, NC

“Ah!” Gray grunted, opening his eyes. The dull light seemed like the sun.  It forced him to shut his eyes again. Everything hurt. Confused, he became aware of his body, half- hanging from his seat against his safety belt, the other half crumpled against the ceiling. His cheek awkwardly pressed against the clothe lining of the roof.

Gray strained to lift his head and uttered a strangled scream. It felt like a freight train had crushed him and it was still running over him with each throb of his skull. The effort made him dizzy.  He let his head rest on the glass shards covering the ceiling. He closed his eyes and took in a deep, labored breath.

Kate!

In spite of the pain he pivoted his neck to his right.

Where is she?

Gray’s breathing quickened, and his lips curled away from his teeth as he felt his temper rising.

“No.” he wailed. “Not Kate!”

He punched what was left of the steering wheel, bellowing in rage and agony, ignoring the pain shooting up his shoulder. He had failed Kate. He had failed Ethan.

They took her.  Why didn’t they take me?

Kate must be alive, she had to be. He had to find her.  But he could not do that from a hospital bed, under the Bureau’s custody.  He could not wait here for help. He held his breath as he lifted his upper torso. Fireworks exploded in his head and down his side.

He forced himself to curl upward, reaching for his ankle.
Almost.
One more push and he managed to pull his pant leg down, revealing the knife he kept hidden there. With one more agonizing curl, he took hold of the knife and allowed himself to flop back down. The safety belt compressed against his chest again as he dropped, and his blood-soaked head thumped against the ceiling. Water and blood splatted from the puddle under his head. He gasped and waited for the pain to recede.

Raising the blade, Gray sawed at the safety belt. He gritted his teeth, waiting for the moment that the belt would break and his body would fall. He sawed back and forth for what felt like an eternity until the belt finally gave way and his body fell hard against the ceiling and door.

Gray pushed the pain away and gathered his senses. With a searing pain in his shoulder he got on his hands and feet. There was no use trying to open his door. The ceiling had caved in, crunching the door tightly in place. To his right the passenger door was open. He crawled under the center console and out the passenger door into the nippy winter rain.

Gray was certain there was more to their ordeal now. The doubt that had plagued him only an hour ago was firmly replaced by the surety that Ethan was innocent. He did not know how. But someone was taking desperate measures to keep them quiet—at any cost.

Across the street Gray saw a man jogging his way, a dingy brown umbrella swaying above him. Distantly the sound of police sirens echoed. They would be here soon.

Whoever had taken Kate had left Gray for dead. Townsend and Howard, if those were their real names. Once they found out Gray was alive, he was sure the chase would be on again. He needed to stay low.

Just behind the man Gray spotted a parked silver Ford sedan. He got off his hands shakily, trying to will away the throbbing in his side. Abruptly a sting of pain shot down his left leg making it go limp for a split second, almost sending him back to the pavement. He regained his balance and did his best to ignore the pain surging all over his body.

“Sir, are you okay?” called out the man, his face showed signs of aging. His skin was roughened by time, and his hair was beginning to grey.

“An ambulance is coming,” he assured Gray. “Sit and rest.”

Gray nodded as he walked up to him. The man placed a consoling palm on Gray's shoulder and scrunched his cheeks as he gave him a once-over. That told Gray all he needed to know about how he looked: pretty much like the walking dead.

“Is that your car?” Gray asked the man. He needed to be on the move.

With a raised brow the man nodded, “Yes, it’s mine.”

Gray reached into his pocket, wincing from the discomfort, and drew out his badge.

“I’m with the FBI, sir. I need your car,” Gray said apologetically.

“You can’t…”

“Give me the keys! This is a matter of national security!” Gray cut him off, letting the pain funnel into his voice.

The man stepped back and reached for his keys, throwing them to Gray without saying a word. Gray unlocked the car door and slid in, ignoring the pain.

“You need to see a doctor,” the man plead. “You can’t just leave like this.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, then pressed the accelerator.

January 29 at 3:34
p.m.
EST

Norfolk, VA

Austin eyed the clock on his monitor. In fifteen minutes, he was expected to report to his superior, Agent Elena D’Cruze.

Since joining the Information Security division, Austin had managed a congenial work relationship with his superior. Rarely had he visited her office for anything more than the yearly review, a quick chat, an update on regular system maintenance or some new upgrade. Never like this, a polygraph.

He already dreaded meeting her pale brown eyes.

For the past twenty minutes Austin had tried to talk himself up to checking the surveillance feed. He sat at his desk, surrounded by cubicles and the pounding of his own heart. He could not wait any longer. Austin let his fingers loose on the keyboard. Windows opened and closed.

Access Denied
.

Seconds later the protected folder containing Ethan’s case appeared on the screen.  Within a few keystrokes, he was viewing the video evidence locker. Tentatively, he tried to access it.

Hmm…
He typed in another command.

Access Denied.

He looked at the screen, only slightly perplexed. He should have expected that D’Cruze would revoke his access with Ethan out gallivanting only God knows where. He could not help but respect her initiative. Glancing back he eyed the row of shoulder height cubicles behind him where the two most recent interns sat, occasionally bobbing around the corner to ask the other a question. To his left a few more cubicles outlined the central path down the corridor leading up to D’Cruze’s glass walled office at the end. Austin caught a glimpse as she walked around desk and took a seat, her hips swaying. Satisfied no one was watching he tilted his monitor down and began typing again.

Instinctively Austin looked over his shoulder before entering another command. He easily bypassed the security protocols. It was a perk of having helped design the system. He could not be in the system long. Someone would soon wonder why one of the few test users was logged in and viewing these specific folders.

Finally, a list of videos appeared on the screen, each titled after the location of a security camera.

World Congress Center Southeast, World Congress Center South 1, Philips Arena Northeast
. He scanned the list.
Omni Atlanta Southwest, CNN Center Northwest, CNN Inner Floor 1 Exit
.

He visualized the area from the street views he had glanced at just minutes ago on Google.

Okay, Ethan was accused of shooting Jason in the CNN Center on the fourth floor. Where’s the best vantage point to see that location?

He looked at the map on his second monitor for reference, matching the camera feeds with physical locations.

CNN Center Inner Floor 1 Stairwell, CNN Center Inner Floor 3 Sky Bridge.

Austin stopped.

Wasn’t the Omni just across from the CNN Center?

Centered on his map was the outline of the CNN Center.  Andrew Young International Boulevard ran just north of the Center, between it and the Omni Atlanta Hotel. His eyes settled on the outline of the Omni.

He minimized the map’s tab and resumed scanning the list of videos.  He found what he was looking for:
Omni Atlanta Southwest
. His cursor hovered over the file.

“Here we go,” he breathed, guiltily taking one last backward glance. Austin tried to prepare himself for whatever he was about to see though he knew it was pointless. Nothing could prepare him.

He clicked the file, and the video opened on the screen. Austin oriented himself. Straight ahead was the CNN Center, a stoic structure cast in grainy shades of grays in the black and white feed. The parts visible in the feed were covered with windows though the video only showed the lower five floors.

The street below was deserted except for a few police cruisers and what looked to be officers and a few agents standing guard along the street closer to the World Congress Center. Austin checked the time-stamp.
10:31:34
. Too early. He slid the timeline forward to
10:46:04
and hit play. He squinted as he scanned the fourth floor windows.

Come on Ethan… Jason. Where are you?

A second later he caught movement in the most eastward room on the floor. Austin leaned in. There was only one figure in the room. He looked to be wearing coveralls. If it had not been for the long black barrel protruding from a hole in the glass wall, Austin would have assumed he was a member of maintenance.

“Hey Austin,” a voice called to him from the next cubicle.

Austin rushed to minimize the window before a bald head bobbed over the divider followed by a set of large rimmed spectacles. Agent Edward Hall. Austin forced a quick grin, trying to hide the deceit in his eyes, as Hall continued.

“You still coming out to Tito’s Friday night?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Austin tried to sound excited. If Edward only knew how hard he had tried to find a legitimate reason he could not go. As if not wanting to go was a bad reason.

“Good,” Edward smiled. “So…”

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Austin interrupted him. The man could go on for hours if you let him. Now was not the time.

With a less than approving nod Edward disappeared back behind the divider and Austin brought up the video feed again and pressed play. He sat straighter in his chair now, working to obscure his monitor from anyone that might walk by.

             
Where are you, Ethan?

The barrel jerked, and the man pulled the rifle back into the room.
He must have fired.
Another figure hurried into the room, gun drawn.

Ethan!

Seconds later, Jason appeared behind him, followed by another person whom Austin did not know. Austin tried to focus, barely able to make out Ethan and Jason. He assumed the other person was Agent Abrams, the man the Bureau claimed Ethan tried to kill.

For a moment everyone was still. Austin could tell the three agents had their guns drawn on the shooter. Then Jason dropped to the ground. Austin’s eyes went wide as his body shuddered. He looked away guiltily.

I can't do this. But you have to Austin
, he pushed himself.

He braced himself and rewound the feed one minute. The video started again, and he watched more intently. Austin steeled himself. It was difficult to watch, but he had to see this.

Austin slowed the playback, continually shifting his focus from Agent Abrams to Ethan and back again. Just before Jason dropped, Austin watched as Abrams redirected his aim… toward Jason. Austin’s eyes widened as he let the video resume its normal speed.  Jason fell to the floor again.  Ethan spun around as Abrams opened fire on him.

He
is
innocent
.

Austin leaned back in his chair, his eyes wide open as the feed continued to play. He moved the mouse and closed the video just as Ethan went on the run. That was all he needed to know.

Ethan
is
innocent.

“Shit,” Austin exclaimed under his breath. Ethan was innocent. The real rogue agent was still at large. Austin pulled a USB drive from his pocket and inserted it into the PC tower. He needed a copy of that video; the
media
needed a copy of that video.

Austin hunched closer to the screen and clicked on the file again.

File Does Not Exist.

The small warning flashed onto the screen. Austin raised an eyebrow and tried again. Same error. Someone had deleted the evidence.

It’s time to leave.

January 29 at 8:15
p.m.
EST

Location Unknown

The air stank of mold and mildew. After half an hour of consciousness, Kate’s senses were only minutely adjusted to the foul air.

She was bound to an old metal chair.  It was uncomfortable and cold. The room was dreadfully dark. Although her eyes had adapted to the dark she was still unable to peer through the shadows around her. There was nothing within her sight — nothing but the blackness that surrounded her. It seemed like the dark was absorbing the faint light from the lone incandescent bulb hanging above her.

Her wrists were bound tightly to the arms of the chair.  Her ankles strapped to the footrest a little too far apart against the outside frame of the chair. Her thighs ached, and her head pounded from the wreck. Whatever they had used to knock her out was still working itself through her system. The last bit of nausea was just now diminishing.

To her left sat a miniature, wheeled, metal tray with all manner of menacing implements laid on its surface. A long, pointed pick device, a t-shaped corkscrew, a scalpel, a pair of locking pliers, and a meat tenderizer. She held down the urge to vomit.

After the first glance, she refused to look at the tray again. She had seen enough, and it horrified her. The thought of a scalpel running across her chest or the meat tenderizer bludgeoning her hand sent chills down her spine and another bought of nausea.

When she wakened, bound inside this all too vivid nightmare, her mind raced for answers. Where was Gray?  Had he been killed in the crash, or perhaps murdered?  Or had they captured him, too?  Maybe he was somewhere nearby.
Torture
.  Would they torture her?  Who was behind all this?   
Am I going to die here?

Finally, her thoughts had slowed, almost normalized… almost. There was nothing she could do but wait and endure. Tears had long since failed to spill out of her bloodshot eyes and down her cheeks.

Time and again Kate’s thoughts returned to Ethan.
He is innocent
. She knew it for sure now. Had he been caught too? She tried to hold on to some small string of hope. She imagined him waiting for her at the cabin.

Her entire body ached. The rigid structure of the chair aggravated her injuries from the wreck. Minutes earlier, in a momentary wave of panic, Kate attempted to break free of the restraints digging into her wrists. Blood clotted around the plastic straps, and the slightest movement made her skin burn. It did not take her long to stop trying. It was useless, and painful.

Click…

It came from behind her. She froze. Then came another
click
, followed by a sharp staccato squeal. A faint light filtered in behind her. A door was opening.

She heard the sound of calm, deliberate footsteps approaching. Against every inner warning, Kate tried to see the source of the sound. She pulled against the straps, but could not turn far enough.

Panic set in. She jerked and kicked, trying to break free. The straps held fast; the pain in her wrists intensified. A scream rose in her throat.

“Now, now, Doctor Connors. Calm down,” advised a deep, throaty voice just out of sight.

Kate halted her struggling and tried again to look behind her to no avail. The footsteps came closer.

“How are you feeling, Doctor?” the voice taunted her as it closed in.

She fixed her gaze straight ahead, suddenly horrified to see her captor. Something inside had clicked and her desire to know to whom the voice belonged to vanished. A crushing fear of the unknown, of some ominous stranger, arose in its place.

A tall figure walked out from the darkness behind her. He was nothing like her mind had conjured—old, ugly, twisted. That rough voice belonged to a rather handsome man, tall and solidly built. Arctic blue eyes, perfectly styled chestnut hair, and a flawless tan.

For a brief second she felt a reassuring calm cast on her through the man's pale eyes. Blinking the calm away she resurrected the wall between them. She could not let her guard down. A pretty face meant nothing.

The man continued to walk around her until he stood about a foot in front of her, next to the tray of horrors.

“Good evening, Doctor.  I hope you’re not
too
uncomfortable,” his voice turned sarcastic. “We just couldn’t risk losing track of you before we’d asked you a few questions.”

“Who are you?” Kate stammered.

The man smiled. “Agent Sean Abrams, FBI.”

“Impossible,” Kate retorted, not really believing her own words as they flowed from her lips. “The FBI doesn’t kidnap people and torture them,” she said, referring to the tool tray.

The Agent took a few steps in front of her, “Something tells me you don’t
really
believe that Doctor, considering the amusing opinion pieces you’ve published.”

He was right; she had long spoken out against the proliferation of enhanced interrogation techniques by many in the intelligence community.
Rendition
came to mind. Experiencing it herself forced Kate to realize that underneath her criticisms, somehow she had still placed trust in their authority.

She refused to answer. She waited stubbornly as a thought crossed her mind.
Is this the man Ethan warned me about?

Abrams turned and took a few steps toward the dark veil and then about-faced. “Now, Doctor. I’ll be asking the questions from this point forward and you’d do well to listen and cooperate, for your own sake.” His voice was calm and calculated as he turned to meet her eyes.

“Where is Ethan Shaw?”

She met his gaze, but refused to answer as she tried to pull herself back in, to concentrate on the situation.

“Did you not hear me, Doctor?” Sean asked, still calm. “I asked you where Agent Shaw is.”

Kate searched for a way out, a way to avoid torture. The only route seemed to be giving Ethan up, and that was not an option. She could not lie; she had never been any good at it and Abrams would see right through her.

Just be silent. Don’t say a word.

“Doctor, I know you spoke with Ethan just hours ago. I know that you met with another agent in Greensboro.” A light seemed to flick on in Sean’s eyes. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’m sorry to inform you of this, but your friend, Agent Whitaker… he’s dead. He died in the car wreck we found you in. We left him there for the coroner to pick up.”

Kate lowered her head, letting the tears start, but she was only allowed to grieve for a moment.
Gray.

“Oh, and you really should have listened to your boyfriend,” Sean explained, his voice icy. “You didn’t tear apart your phone like he told you to, and it led us right to you.”

A wall of shame bore down on Kate. It had been her fault. She meant to remove the battery, but in her fear induced frenzy she had forgotten. Gray paid the price for her carelessness. Her fear gave way to grief, and she began to sob.

“Cheer up, Doctor. Just work with us here and no one else has to die.”

Kate held in the sobs, but her body shook with them. Gray had died trying to save her. She could never repay him, never thank him. Her heart was broken.

“Shall we continue, Doctor?” Sean urged. He slowed his speech, speaking each word distinctly. His voice deepened.  “Where is Ethan Shaw?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Stop playing games with me.  I don’t have the patience for it and you don’t have the time for it.” His voice became more dangerous. “To be honest with you, I am with the FBI, but… Well, you may have surmised this is not exactly an officially sanctioned mission.  No one is looking over my shoulder, so I’m unfettered by pesky legal constraints.  It’s very freeing.”

Sean reached to his waist and lifted his shirt and peeled back a white cloth bandage exposing a tightly stitched wound running across his abdomen. Kate could see where something had torn along his side, leaving a long etching along his side. It was recent, freshly stitched.

“You see this?” he prodded as he walked around her. She recoiled at the warm mist of his breath on her ear as he spoke in a hushed voice, “You see, I’m the man your damned boyfriend shot.”

“No shit,” Kate surprised herself. “Why else would you have come for me?”

Thrown of kilter for a moment Sean rebounded.

“You surprise me Kate,” he said, for the first time using her given name. “Yes, you’re right.”

“You killed Jason,” Kate railed bitterly as the realization hit her. It was
him
.

Kate screamed as Sean grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked, wrenching her head back.

He spoke into her ear again, his hot breath rolling down her neck.  A voice laced with malice filled her ears.

“And I’m the man who’s going to run down your little boyfriend and put a round through his fucking skull.”

Kate shivered. He was a monster. She was in awe of the rage inside him.

“So.  It’s you or him. Your choice.”

Kate remained silent, tears flowing down her face.

“Where is Ethan?!” Sean thundered in her ear, pulling back on her hair violently.

Kate shook, her ears echoed. “I don’t know.”

Sean released her hair and stood up straight. He walked back around to face her and bent down until he was at eye level with Kate. “Here’s the thing, Kate. You’re not doing yourself any favors keeping silent for him. You will talk.  The only question is how much meaningless sacrifice you’ll make just to hold out a little longer.  It won’t make any difference to me.  If anything, I hope you’ll continue to be stubborn for at least a while, so we can have some fun.”

He eyed the small tray to his right, surveying the tools that sat atop it. He looked back at Kate with a predatory grin.  She closed her eyes against a wave of nausea.

Sean walked over to the opposite side of the tray and picked up the long pick and then gave Kate’s body a once-over. He breathed in and exhaled, “I’ll give you some time to think about it, Doctor. It’s you or him, your decision.”

Sean put the pick down and walked off into the darkness. Kate unglued her eyes from the tool tray and slowed her breathing.

What do I do?

She could not give Ethan away; she would not. It was not an option. The consequences of that choice flooded over her. It was to bear. She lowered her head and cried.