They'll Call It Treason (19 page)

Austin paused, “He lived in an orphanage until he was eighteen and joined the Army.”

In spite of the hatred he felt for Abrams, Ethan could not help but sympathize with his loss. He knew how hard it was to lose a family member. Memories of his late brother playing on the beach surfaced. He suppressed them so he could focus on the here and now.

“He served two tours in Iraq before ending his enlistment at the rank of Corporal in two thousand eight.” Austin looked up at Ethan to make sure he did not need to slow down. Ethan nodded for him to continue.  “He joined the FBI in early two thousand nine and was assigned to the Atlanta Field Office shortly thereafter.”

“What about his evaluations, his assignments?” Ethan asked. “Is there anything
off
?”

Austin scoured the text, searching for anything that might stand out. Ethan watched as Austin’s eyes scanned line after line.

“He seems like a normal guy.  Nothing really bad, nothing too commendable. He—” Austin stopped as his eyes caught something on the screen.

“What? What is it?” Gray prodded.

“Looks like more recently he’s run into a little trouble,” Austin clicked on a file and the contents flashed up on the screen. He pointed to a few lines and continued. “Seems he’s been under investigation for his interrogation methods. Says something about a review regarding enhanced interrogations conducted
above the acceptable standards
.”

“Above the
acceptable
standards?” Ethan asked. “Most go too far as it is within those
acceptable
levels.”

“The investigation started four months ago,” Austin went on. He clicked a button, and the screen changed again as he continued searching.

“Okay. I don’t think this is getting us anywhere,” Ethan complained. “What was his status during Riley Daniels’ assassination?”

“When was that again?” Austin asked.

“April sixteenth, last year,” Ethan recalled instantly. He had worked the case for nearly a year now, and had memorized every aspect of the case: the location of the body, where the lacerations ran across the victim’s body, the testimony of Riley’s friends and even political enemies. And every frame of the nearly useless video clip of the attack, until now.

“Ah…” Austin typed away, “Abrams was granted a short leave from April fifteenth to the seventeenth. Visiting family in North Carolina… Durham. Might as well be Raleigh.”

“And yesterday he was over security arrangements for the DNC meeting.” Ethan put his head down and sighed, “In the right place both times.”

“That doesn’t help us, though,” Gray stepped in. “Sure he was on leave when the representative was murdered and he was at the DNC meeting. We know why, but other than the one video connecting him to the location in Raleigh, we have nothing. And nothing at all firmly tying him to Georgia.”

“You’re right,” Ethan admitted, defeated. All they had was Ethan’s word and a few “chance” events. It would not be enough in court, or when the FBI came knocking again.

Ethan paced the floor, thinking.

“Austin,” Ethan’s spirits raised. “Can you download all the information they have on Abrams— missions, records, everything?”

“Yeah, sure,” Austin replied and went back to work.

“Okay, do that and we will go through the information offline. There has to be something there.”

January 31 at 9:10
a.m.
EST

Blowing Rock, NC

Sean lit the constricting passageway with a small pocket flashlight. The tunnel was barely wide enough for one person to walk through without scraping against the damp, dirt-covered walls.

Being enclosed underground in such a tight space was not among Sean’s favorite experiences. Yet, he did not fear it like his partner did. Ju-Long was struggling behind him. Despite his small build and narrow shoulders, he kept bumping into the walls, smearing dirt and clay across his button-up shirt and knocking more dirt onto the floor of the passage. Sean could see the panic growing in his eyes.

Pussy
, he thought.
You can put a bullet through a man’s skull, but you cannot handle a tight space

Sean knew that they were somewhere under the field separating the cabin and the barn. According to the report he pulled from the Bureau, Ethan and his group had escaped through this tunnel and made their way to their escape vehicle.

Earlier, outside the cabin, they had passed two cars: an older Nissan and a Kia. Both were riddled with bullets; the Nissan’s windshield sported a massive spider’s web of cracks. The Kia had done little better; its windshield laid in jagged shards among the punctured bucket seats

The door to the kitchen was broken open; shards of wood lay on the floor. The couches in the living area were filled with bullet holes and were bleeding white cushion stuffing.  Only a few jagged pieces of glass remained in the front windows allowing the cold winter air to whistle through the cabin.

Sean knew he was dealing with a skilled agent, but he had never expected a team like this. They had fended off eight field agents. All without killing a single person. Sean groaned. Eventually that unwillingness to take life would cost them.

Ahead they reached the foot of a ladder at the end of the tunnel. Sean looked back to Ju-Long and shrugged, then climbed the ladder.

He shoved the wooden hatch up and confirmed their location. They were inside the barn. He pulled himself up the rest of the way.

“Finally,” Ju-Long said, relief in his voice.

Sean grinned and then went to work taking a mental inventory of the barn. He scanned the immediate area. A scattering of old farm equipment, several dusty wooden crates, a tool bench and a large open space. Their walk through the tunnel had been fruitless, but Sean refused to leave a single stone unturned.

According to the Bureau’s report, this was where the group’s escape vehicle had been. Sean ransacked the room, slinging tools off the bench and against the wall, and lifting lids off every crate in the space to expose their contents. Inside the last wooden bin he found a stash of ammunition. He picked up a few of the rounds: .223, .40 and 9mm.

As he rummaged through the containers, extracting the left behind gear, Sean wondered if they had been in too much of a rush to take the supplies, or if this was just
extra
. He pursed his lips and stepped up to the open barn doors where he imagined Ethan bucking forward in the getaway vehicle. He stared out onto the snow-covered field through a light flurry. Sean still did not know where Ethan was headed.

He had hoped to find some clue to guide him onto Ethan’s path, something to please the Council, but there was nothing.

A realization hit Sean. He grunted with a hidden grin.
Ethan doesn’t know where he is going, either.

The thought pleased Sean as he stepped out into the snow.

I’ll find you, Ethan. Just wait.

January 31 at 9:30
a.m.
EST

Washington, D.C. – FBI Headquarters

“Director Hunt, you’re going to want to see this!” Agent Day burst into the Director’s office unbidden.

Richard snapped to attention behind his desk. So far the morning had been uneventful and there had been no sign of the group on the run up the Blue Ridge Mountains. It had turned in to another waiting game.

While he awaited further developments, Richard passed the time by returning to his ever-present backlog of administrative tasks. The typical bullshit he normally dealt with leading up to the president’s state of the union address. Every cynical comment about the President, every tangential threat had to be screened, threat rated and sent down the pipeline for investigation. It was an ongoing task throughout the year, but as the President’s State of the Union address neared, the caseload increased at least three-fold.

He had just put down a threat analysis purporting a possible Iranian-sympathizer was attending the President’s address. A wiretap had unearthed a vague conversation where a Khadijeh Ashtiani had complained to an unknown confidant about the Secretary of State’s recent controversial remarks toward the ongoing trade negotiations, but there had been no indication of a threat. Richard had quickly put the report down. It was a waste of his time. 

“What is it?” Richard asked, hopeful.

“It’s Shaw and his group,” Aran explained. “We’ve located them.”

Richard got to his feet quickly and followed Aran out into the hall, jogging behind him toward control center.

“Where are they?”

“Fleetwood, North Carolina,” Aran informed him as they made the bend into the control room. A satellite image spanned the main screen. It was a forest with a small house sitting in the middle. Richard examined the topography.

“It’s a foreclosed house off of Highway 221,” Aran explained. Pointing at the screen, he continued, “If you look closely, you can see the smoke from the chimney.”

Richard squinted to find the smoke. It was there, rising to the east.

“How did you find them?” Richard asked.

“They hacked into our database late last night, or more precisely, Agent Austin Conway hacked into our database.” Aran explained.

“That was a bold move,” Richard commented.

“He’s good, sir, but he lingered a little too long.” Aran grinned, satisfied. “He left us a small footprint which we were able to extrapolate a general location from.”

“Good work Day. What were they looking for?” Richard asked.

“We’re not sure about that. They obscured their path well. That’s why we still had to search the general area.” Aran stated, “But we think they were primarily interested in agent profiles, but it’s hard to tell really. Conway’s good at what he does sir, one of our… the best.”

“Get me a list of everything they looked at,” Richard ordered. “Whatever you can at least.”

Aran nodded, making a mental note to prepare the list. Returning the Director’s attention to the main satellite image on the large LED screen, Aran explained how they had confirmed the targets.

“While we were scanning the area by drone, we spotted their Jeep about ten miles north of the house.” Aran pointed to the adjacent map where a single lonely building stood, maybe a service station Richard thought. On the next screen a grainy picture of Agent Mercer appeared, covering a quarter of the wall, at Aran’s command.

“Agent Dante Mercer. We think he was just getting supplies. The gas station clerk reported he purchased several cans of beans, some plastic-ware, water, matches, several newspapers and four jackets.” Aran listed. “The clerk said he may have purchased more, but he wasn’t sure.”

“Nothing unusual,” Richard commented. His eyes drifted between the satellite image and the photo of Agent Mercer.

“We followed the Jeep back to the house,” Aran explained. “Once there we were able to confirm the presence of Agents Shaw, Whitaker and Conway.”

Low-grade images of the three appeared on the screen with Dante’s. Richard’s attention focused on Agent Shaw. He had studied that face for the past forty-five hours. Richard grinned slyly.

“Well, it seems Ethan went under cover,” Richard pointed at the image on the screen, mocking the disguise. “He dyed his hair and everything.”

Aran nodded, but moved on.

“If you look closely, you can see the inconsistency in the pattern. You’ve got snow here, and a greyish black texture here. That’s how we missed them earlier. They’re covering the Jeep with some camouflaged tarp.” Aran announced. The faint greys of an in-use chimney stack marred the white-washed satellite image just above where Aran had indicated the covered Jeep sat.

Richard examined the satellite imagery a moment longer, cocking his head to the side as he thought.

“Is this a live feed?” Richard asked.

“Yes sir, it is,” Aran confirmed.

“How long would it take to get a drone up there?”

“Sir, we already have one in the area. It’d be—”

Richard cut him off, “No, I mean an armed drone.”

Aran nodded, realizing his misunderstanding, and looked to a thin man sitting at a nearby console, expecting an answer. The man checked his station and then looked back up to Aran, “We can have one in the area within the next fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Get it armed and in the air now” Richard barked without a second thought. He pointed to the satellite image of the house on the screen. “That’s your target. Destroy it.”

“Can we do that, sir?” Aran asked, taken aback.

“Of course we can.”

January 31 at 8:45
a.m.
EST

Fleetwood, NC

Ethan scooped another spoonful of beans from his paper bowl. A pot straddled the fire atop the outdoor hunting grill Dante had brought back from his morning run. Gray lifted it and poured a helping into his own bowl. Forming a circle, the four of them sat on the floor, spooning mouthfuls of beans with plastic spoons.

The fireplace gave off the only heat to be found on the early winter morning beyond their thick coats. Ethan inspected the small flames, jumping from deep red to a bright orangey yellow and back again. He pulled his jacket closer to his body with a minor shiver.

Ethan listened intently as Dante recounted another tale from his college days. He shook his head from side to side as Dante explained how his younger self’s penchant for street racing had finally paid off during yesterday’s adventure, though he was wistful when he spoke of his Camaro. Every now and then Gray would chime in with a side commentary on Dante’s story.

Austin sat across the small circle on the hardwood floor, his russet eyes darting back and forth between storytellers. As usual, he did not say a word. But he always laughed in the right places, as was his way.

All the reminiscing carried Ethan’s thoughts to a warm summer evening four years before. In front of him sat Gray in a red Five Finger Death Punch t-shirt and khaki shorts with a glass of
Smirnoff
in hand. To his right sat the ex-wife, Sofia. As usual her wavy blond hair was perfectly in place, curving along her cheeks and bouncing around her shoulders, yet she still complained about it.

Not a pillow or curtain was out of place and you could have ate off the entertainment center, yet Sofia would go on and on about how dirty it was. Her humility stopped the moment she opened her mouth while her words poured with it. No wonder she was Gray’s ex.

It was the Independence Day celebration that Gray hosted every year. Care-free people traipsed through the house, talking and laughing about who knew what. Friends, friends of friends and family.

He remembered hearing Sofia’s mom having a conversation about her daughter’s house, from two rooms away. That woman’s voice carried.

Gray had seemed unusually insistent that he arrive early. They had exchanged some small talk— a little sports, a little politics. Nothing unusual.

A knock came at the door and Sofia got up to let in the new guests while Gray and Ethan continued to talk about the upcoming election. A few minutes later, Sofia rejoined them, accompanied by an attractive young woman.

The butterflies Ethan felt now when he looked into that same woman’s eyes had not been anywhere near as strong back then, but they had risen momentarily as he was struck by her beauty for the first time. The stunning depth of those exquisite brown eyes. The way her sandy blond hair bobbed in front of one eye. Her full red lips. 
Kate
…

Then suddenly the image dissolved as Gray jolted him back to reality with a slap on the back.

“You alright there, buddy?” Gray asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Alright, you just seemed a bit distant there for a moment.”

Seconds later, Ethan slipped back into his sweetest memories of Kate. Her head on his shoulder at their first movie together, a remake of
The Lake House
. The warmth of her body against his on the beach just months ago. The smell of her hair while she lay on his chest to watch a meteorite shower two Septembers back, jasmine. The softness of her lips during their first kiss.

For a moment, he forgot all the cares that burdened him, all the pain and misfortune. He could live in that moment forever.

Then suddenly the thought of Kate stewing in some interrogation room, being lied to, harassed, and maybe worse, shattered his thoughts. He forced the thought away, retraining his focus on his friends.

Ethan took a deep breath. “Let’s get back on track. See if we can figure out what’s going on and what we can do from here.”

A twinge of worry creased Dante’s forehead, but he did not say anything. Gray focused his attention on Ethan and waited.

“Austin, has anything turned up?” Ethan asked.

“I think I may have something for you,” Austin answered, a ring of accomplishment in his voice. “I couldn’t get to sleep last night.  I kept thinking I’d missed the meaning of some detail in Abrams’ file, so I went back and did some double checking. Abrams was involved in one operation that piqued my interest.”

Austin opened his laptop and flipped the screen toward them to share the information he had dug up.

“It started about three years ago and ended abruptly a year later without any real closure. The mission was to infiltrate a black-market trading ring, but not just any black-market trading. This was supposed to be high-tech stuff, computer espionage, guided missiles and the like.” Austin lifted one eyebrow as he filled them in. “The team was supposed to be investigating a possible terrorist organization code-named Cerberus.” Austin pressed a button and a blurry image appeared on the screen beside a sparse description of the organization: a triple dagger.

Ethan immediately recognized the image; the tattoo he had seen on the neck of the assassin in Atlanta. 
Is it the same image though?
He thought so, but wasn’t a hundred percent certain.

Austin continued, “This organization was suspected of several high crimes. Espionage and computer warfare, among other terrorist activities. Their suspected impact makes Al-Qaeda and ISIS look like child’s play. If the Bureau’s suspicions are right, they’re basically the financial enablers and supply chain for the world’s most notorious terrorists.”

Austin paused long enough to flip the screen over so he could bring up some more information. “There were three agents involved in the operation: Special Agent Anthony Lee, Special Agent Lyle Cunningham and our very own Special Agent Sean Abrams.”

He made eye contact with Ethan on his last few words. Ethan could hear Austin’s distaste for Abrams in the way he said the name.

Ethan nodded, “Go on.”

“Well, about a month before the operation was called off, the Agent in Charge, Agent Lee, unexpectedly died of a heart attack. Then a week before the operation went cold, Agent Cunningham went missing.”

Austin paused for effect. “Two days before the decision to cancel the operation was made, they found Agent Cunningham’s body in a dumpster down an alleyway in Chicago. It was reported as a robbery-homicide.”

“Chicago?” Dante repeated, confused.

“Yes,” Austin affirmed.

“Is that where the operation was based?” Dante asked.

“It doesn’t say, but my assumption is that it was based somewhere nearby.” Austin’s hands typed away furiously, double-checking the records for a few seconds.

“All three agents involved were from different areas of the country. Abrams is from Atlanta, Lee was from D.C., and Cunningham was based out of Lancaster, Pennsylvania.”

Ethan mulled over the information in his head.
He could have been in Chicago for a different reason, maybe personal business, friends, or he could have been killed elsewhere and someone moved the body to Chicago. But it does seem more likely that the mission was centered there.

“So what does this have to do with us, Austin?” Gray asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not entirely sure. It just seems shady to me for some reason,” Austin explained.

Austin noticed the hardened look on Ethan’s face, his eyes darting back and forth in thought. “Ethan, you got something there?”

“Ah…” Ethan was not sure what to say. Maybe, he might have something, but it sounded crazy. “I’m just going to throw this out there, guys. Take it as you will. A few years ago, when I was a bit more paranoid, as you guys know, I remember reading a story about an organization that seemed to be protecting the interest of the defense and intelligence industries. I can’t believe I did not remember it until now, but it was called Cerberus.”

Ethan took hold of the computer and rotated the screen around to face Gray, Dante and himself, and pointed at the screen, “Those three daggers.”

Ethan looked at his friends, expecting the usual glazed-over stares that he used to get when he had brought up conspiracy stories in the past. Instead their eyes looked eager, ready to hear what he had to say. He only wished he was more certain about it.

“That’s the same formation as the tattoo the assassin in Georgia had on his neck, and in North Carolina a year ago. From the stories, I remember they were known for their money, supplying the highest bidder, cyber warfare and alleged assassination of high priority targets. Some say they are responsible for the death of the Secretary of Defense a few years back.”

“The Secretary of Defense? He died in a car accident,” Gray reminded Ethan.

Ethan just looked at him, his eye brows raised, his voice tense. “I killed my best friend, too, according to the Agency.” Ethan paused and looked down at the floor, hating that he had brought Jason up in such a flippant manner. Pulling himself back together he locked eyes again with Gray, “I don’t know, Gray. I’m just telling you what I read. Just putting it out there.”

“Sorry,” Gray apologized. He had not meant to strike a raw nerve. Even with all that had transpired, it just seemed too much to accept without a heavy dose of skepticism.

“There were also rumors that they were behind the destabilization in the Middle East and the coups and revolutions in half a dozen areas. Libya, the Ukraine, you name it. Supposedly all to keep the war profit coming and some even say to increase government intelligence powers. Cerberus allegedly has operatives planted in various levels of our government.”

Adding a little more emphasis, Ethan continued, “I, for one, never took that part seriously. But now…” Ethan’s voice trailed off uncertainly.

Dante peered into Ethan’s eyes expectantly, “Now?”

“I don’t know.” Ethan replied, his voice quiet and unsteady. “I just don’t know.”

For a moment no one spoke. Each of them shared a look with each of the others in turn. Finally Austin broke the silence.

“Well, what about Abrams? You think maybe he got mixed up with Cerberus somehow during the investigation? Maybe the others found out and that’s why they got bumped off.”

”Bumped off?” Gray jumped in. “The one guy died of a heart attack.”

“There are ways to fake a heart attack, Gray,” Austin came back, his voice firmer than usual.

Gray had no reply. He had not expected Austin to bristle.

“No matter how crazy or scary it may sound, we cannot rule anything out right now,” Austin went on. “We don’t know how far this goes or who these people are, and we need to be sure we don’t underestimate them.”

“Okay,” Gray replied with his hand up in submission. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I just never thought I’d be taking this crap seriously.”

They each took a moment to breathe and connect with the realization that anything was possible, no matter how far-fetched it may have previously seemed.

“How about we go ahead and get to town for some supplies? The firewood is not going to last the night at this rate and we need more food,” Ethan said, a smile breaking his face, “and not beans this time.”

They all laughed as they got to their feet. Dante’s morning run had been more of a survey of the area than a supply run. It seemed that they may have a few days here so more supplies were in order.

With Ethan leading the way, they moved out. Austin trailed behind as he struggled with getting his laptop in its case. Their feet crunched with every step through newly fallen snow. Ethan helped Gray and Austin pull the camouflaged tarp off the Jeep and anchored it down with a few rocks from the driveway.

“Ah, hold on, guys,” Dante stopped them. “I forgot my extra mag in the house. Can’t be too prepared, right?”

As he jogged back to house, Ethan looked over to Gray with a smile. Gray just shook his head and let out a brief chuckle. Ethan returned the laugh as he stepped up into the Jeep, followed by Gray and Austin

While they waited for Dante, Ethan stared out into the trees, admiring the snow covered limbs and watching the fog puff from his mouth with each breath. The wind had died down dramatically since last night, but every once in a while a breeze whipped by, rustling tree limbs and dusting a bit of snow around.

As Ethan focused on the world around him, a hair raised on the back of his neck. That noise. That whistling sound. It was so familiar. He leaned out of the Jeep to get a better grasp of the sound. The others heard it too. Gray and Austin stepped out of the Jeep as well, looking around, trying to find the source of the whistle.

His concentration was interrupted by Dante’s loud mouth as he came to the front door of the house, “Got it!”

Ethan smiled and was about to laugh when the whistling got louder, and louder.

That sounds like a—

Suddenly the world rocked around them as the house exploded. A heated shockwave knocked Ethan off his feet, his face slamming into the cold snow. As he fell, Ethan caught a glimpse of wood and debris flying through the air, followed by a massive burst of flames.