They'll Call It Treason (23 page)

January 31 at 3:10
p.m.
EST

Northeast of Fleetwood, NC

In one piece
. Abrams’s cold words kept running through Ethan’s mind. Kate was right, Sean was a monster.

Ethan had been on edge when he made the call but now the full consequence of failure weighed down on him. Kate, his friends, all would suffer. In the back of his mind, Ethan wished he would have not run back in Atlanta. All he had accomplished so far was putting his friends in danger.

Failure was not an option.

Ethan jerked as he felt Gray pat a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s going to be alright,” Gray assured him as if able to read his thoughts. “This is what we’ve got to do. We’re with you man.”

Without speaking a word Ethan nodded, silently thanking them for not taking the easy path out. He needed them, but it still did not assuage the deep nauseous feeling in his stomach.

“Let’s do this,” Ethan finally said and chucked the phone out the window.

January 31 at 3:00
p.m.
EST

Washington, D.C. – FBI Headquarters

“Very good,” Richard commended Agent Day over speaker phone.

Leaning back in his chair, he stole a look outside through three rectangular windows. From his vantage point he could see the wind growing stronger. The flag atop the Museum of Natural History flailed harshly in the gusts down 10th Street. Heavy clouds had rolled in over the District releasing a volley of sleet and snow. According to the news, it looked to become one of the biggest winter storms of the decade. It already covered most of the northeast and some of the upper southern states.

It reminded him of how this whole mess felt. Everything out of control and brewing deeper and deeper into chaos. Until now.

Aran’s call was a welcome reprieve. The mess brewing outside his windows and constantly being one step behind weathered Richard. The news held promise: they had locked onto a phone call to Ethan’s fiancé, Kate Conners.

“The call came in from a pre-paid phone. There's no useful metadata confirming it belongs to Ethan, and there was no answer,” Aran continued.

“But you do believe it was Shaw, or one of the others, Conway or Whitaker?” Richard asked the only question he cared about.

“According to our intel, we have good reason to believe it was Ethan Shaw, sir.” Aran confirmed. “The caller left a one word voicemail and then hung up.”

“What did they say?” Richard asked before Aran could finish his sentence. He crinkled his nose.

One word?

“
Kate
. That was it,” Aran said. “Voice recognition has given us a 67% positive match to Ethan Shaw. It really isn’t much to go off. We need more than one word to get a good match.”

“That’s good enough for me. Where is he?”

“We traced the incoming number’s location to West Jefferson, North Carolina, roughly an hour north of the cabin in Fleetwood.”

Richard kept an eye gazing out into the storm. Sleet now clanged against the glass. For mid-day it was dark out, the storm cast itself over the District like a dark fog. Lightning struck deep within the storm brightening the gloomy scene for an instance. The quiet rumble of thunder followed a few seconds later.

“Good work Day. Now keep track of that phone. I want to know where they are at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

Richard propped back in his comfortable leather chair and kicked his feet up on the desk. He let out a sigh of relief. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

January 31 at 7:15
p.m.
EST

Winchester, VA

The sound of thunder echoed in the small two-bed hotel room. Ice tinkled outside against the metal polls and windows as the howling wind sent sheets of ice whirling about.

“This should do it,” Austin assured them as he finished sewing up the hole in Ethan’s jeans. He had embedded the tracking device from one of their headsets. After inspecting his handiwork Austin passed the jeans to Ethan.

He inspected the stitching along the pocket, checking the seam, “Looks good. Where’d you learn to sew?”

“That’s what happens when you buy cheap clothes to get through college,” Austin replied, not fond of the fact. The stitches followed just beyond the natural stitching of the right leg. It would take a trained eye to notice the slight imperfections in the knot holding it all together.

Ethan slipped back into the jeans and took a quick stroll to the opposite end of the small room. He looked back to Austin, “Is it working?”

“Coming in clear,” Austin responded, eyeing a tiny dot on his laptop’s screen. “Of course you are standing right in front of me, but as long as you’re within five miles I should be able to track you and record audio. I should remind you that while the tracker is on, the Bureau could easily lock on and track you too.”

“I’m not worried about that here,” Ethan said rubbing his hands together as he sat down. He leaned back in one of the stuffy green chairs to keep himself from pacing the small room. “We might need backup.”

“So let’s go over this one more time,” Gray said, intertwining his fingers and placing his elbows on the small cheaply constructed table. The plan was simple, but it was paramount that they all be on the same page.

“You’re going to saunter in the front door and let them take you,” Gray began, directing his attention toward Ethan. “Then I’m supposed to make my way in through the loading docks out back and let techy over here guide me to your position with that little tracker in your jeans. Right?”

Gray imagined the factory blueprints one more time, holding back the urge to scan over them again. He had to know the layout or risk being caught unaware even with Austin’s guidance.

“Yes,” Austin answered. “But we’ll also be recording audio through the tracker so we can have a record of what’s said while he’s in there. Hopefully we can get something that ties Abrams to Georgia and clear Ethan’s name… and ours. Maybe more, maybe even connect him to Cerberus.”

“Exactly,” Ethan affirmed. “It’s simplistic and straightforward—”

“More like stupid and dangerous, but I’m in,” Gray interrupted him.

Ethan ignored Gray’s remark, “We’re not going to have a lot of time. There’s not going to be a backup unit, nothing like we’re used to. When I make it in, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

The thought was horrifying. Ethan’s mind had raced through all types of scenarios and rarely did any of them end well. He only hoped reality panned out better.

“Abrams seems arrogant enough that I think,” Ethan coughed and sat back, “I hope he’ll keep us alive long enough that I can work some information out of him. And hopefully I can give you long enough to find us Gray.”

Gray grimaced. It was their only option, but it did not resonate well with him. He looked up at the abandoned GE plant blueprints without studying the fine lines and details. He would be virtually blind. They had no idea how many men were in the building or how well armed or trained they would be. Gray would be completely dependent on Austin to navigate him through the building’s maze of rooms and hallways ending up eventually wherever they took Ethan.

He looked down at the floor, took a breath and then made eye-contact with Ethan again, “Okay, let’s do this.”

“Alright,” Ethan tried to smile but he could not seem to form the shape on his lips. He had a horrible feeling he may be sending Gray on a death trip and it ate away at him. He had to keep telling himself he was not being selfish. It was for all of them, not just him.

“Austin, once you drop off Gray, position yourself about half a mile down street from the plant and be ready for our signal for extraction. The sooner we can get out of there the better.” Ethan paused for a second, letting his gaze shift away and then back at Austin. “If we’re captured you run.”

Austin nodded slowly, his head heavy as the thought weighed down on him.

Ethan stood up. He was as ready as he would ever be to go up against Abrams again, but this time unarmed and compliant. He thought of Kate. This was the only way to save her, but he knew it was more than that. The weight of it was more than his love for Kate, it was about his friends, family and his duty to country.

If he did not act, or if he failed, who knew the horrors Abrams and those he worked for would continue to perpetrate. What other outspoken, uncontrollable person would have to die? What family would mourn their relative? It was his obligation.

“You got everything you need Gray?” Ethan asked.

“I’m good to go.” Gray holstered the last bit of gear under his belt at his back, a Glock for Ethan once he located him. He patted the shoulder harnesses wrapped over his black shirt. His Glock was holstered under his left arm and two spare magazines sat in small pouches on his belt. Stashed away below his right knee was a four-inch blade. Dante would have been glad to see him taking extra precautions.

“The tracker is working still, right?” Ethan asked, visibly anxious about the situation.

“Yes, Ethan, it’s working,” Austin assured him. “I’ve got it, don’t worry about it.”

Ethan nodded, “Don’t worry? I will.” His demeanor turned more serious, “If this starts to go south I want you both to pull back and high tail it some—”

“Stop it Ethan,” Gray interrupted him. “We’re not going anywhere. It’s going to work.”

Struggling to agree, Ethan let his eyes meet Gray’s and then Austin’s. He knew there was no way of knowing whether they could pull this off. Chances were, they would end up dead and abandoned in some dumpster like the other Agent. Yet, here they were against all odds already.

“Let’s do this.”

January 31 at 7:35
p.m.
EST

Winchester, VA

The foul stench of wet rotting wood permeated the warehouse production floor. Sean readied himself for the unpleasant odor as he swung the door open and stepped into the largely empty room.

He flipped a switch, sending more juice to the fluorescent lights overhead than they had received in years. They flickered and fluttered until they finally shed a consistent dingy white glow around the room. Among the empty boxes, half rotting due to the leaks in the roof, sat Kate in her metal chair.

Sean strode purposefully over to Kate. His smile taunting her as he neared. She glared at him defiantly. For all the wrong reasons her defiance excited him. She had been enough trouble already; she
should
fear him.

“Well darling,” Sean began, rubbing the back of his hand across her cheek. Kate jerked away uselessly. Her eyes refused to meet his as he tried to peer into them, getting closer and closer. He pressed his palm against her cheek, gently caressing her skin while forcing her look up at him.

“Don’t hurt him, I beg you.” Kate pleaded.

“Oh, so it can speak still.” Sean mocked her. “You be real good like and maybe, just maybe, he’ll make it out of here alive.” Sean let his words sink in for a few seconds before flippantly adding, “I wouldn’t bet on it though.”

He could see the torment in her eyes. A decade ago that would have melted him, brought him to help, maybe even to tears. Now, he let it sink in, let it harden him. It was the only way to succeed in this business and it was the best way to please the Council.

Every act of relief, of sympathy, had always ended with him on the sour end of the stick. It had not taken Sean long to stop caring. No one else did. Why should he?

Laughing at her he stepped to the side of her chair. He let all his preparations run through his mind. With luck the storm outside would act as a natural barrier, but at the same time he worried about it. There was a chance the blizzard conditions could make it harder to see an intruder enter the building.

He had instructed one of his new compatriots, a tall, stiffed chested black man with a slick onyx head, by the name of Damion, to let Ethan’s team in. He wanted to give them a false sense of accomplishment just before Damion’s men, his men, cut them down like weeds.

Then there was Ethan. He was to arrive at the front entrance and be escorted onto the production floor. Then it was all to end.

The only kink in his plan had been orders from the FBI’s Executive Director. He was to not let Kate come to harm. It seemed she was to stand trial for aiding and abetting a terrorist plot. The Director had, however, allowed him to keep Kate in an undisclosed location. That was a start.

It seemed the Director was amiable to the use of more "extreme" tactics, as he had phrased it, officially outside of the Bureau’s sanction. He still was angry over that lapse of judgment, telling the Director he had her. He should have known better. It was going to be difficult explaining why she ended up in a bloody mess on the floor.

He liked the new Director, but like everyone else, he was naive. He had no clue of Sean’s affiliation with the Council. Even so, Sean had convinced the Director to allow him to pursue Ethan and keep Kate after the events in Georgia on a nearly non-existent leash. People always prefer to let others do their dirty work as long as they do not have to see the trash it produces. It worked out well with his obligations to the Council.

Even though the Director wanted Kate alive, Sean had other obligations. Loose ends were a bad idea. Even if the media portrayed her as some loony conspiracy chick, his organization did not need any publicity, period. She would not make it past the night.

Removing the pistol from its holster, he stole a glance at Kate as he pulled back the slide, sending a round home. He smiled wickedly at her and blew her a kiss.

“Here we go honey.”