Don't Order Dog (40 page)

Alex looked up at the Deputy Director in confusion.
“Excuse me?”

“Make no mistake
, agent – the fallout from this crisis is going to be severe. Careers will be destroyed. Lives will be ruined. But I will tell you right now that mine won’t be among them. I’ve spent far too long in the political trenches to let some power play between agencies pull me out of this office… which means we’ve finally come to the reason I’ve called you here.”

The Deputy Secretary returned to her seat.

“Whatever you thought you’d accomplished with these miraculously elusive terrorists obviously failed. So as I see it, Agent Murstead, you have two choices. Either immediately reopen your investigation and make sure it is
properly
concluded this time, or end up on the sacrificial altar along with Preston and whoever else is responsible for this catastrophe.”

Alex considered the Deputy Secretary’s humorless expression for a moment be
fore responding. “You make a persuasive argument, Deputy Secretary,” he replied flatly. “May I get a copy of the Dongying file and Preston’s phone conversation immediately?”

“Yes you may,” McCarthy replied genially. “Susan will have both for you on your way out.”

“Then I’ll get started immediately.”

“Excellent. I believe you’ve made the right decision,
Alex
.”

“I’m sure I have, ma’am.”

“I’ll expect regular updates on your actions, starting with your first one.”

“And just what would you expect that to be, Deputy Secretary?”

McCarthy gave him a hint of a smile. “Richard Connolly has a congressional hearing in less than an hour. I suggest you reschedule that meeting for him.”

Jeri awoke with a start. Her heart was racing, her breath coming in quick gasps, as if she’d just been running a sprint. The remnants of her dream were already beginning to fade.

She had felt him standing there, his face hovering over hers, his dark eyes examining her in the dim light. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, but he gave no indication of noticing. His eyes were focused on something else, something deeper, as if he were watching the very thoughts in her head. She reached out, her long fingers moving slowly towards him. He continued watching her until she’d nearly touched him,
then smiled and stepped away. 

Jeri
sat up and looked out the window. A clear, orange-tinted sky hinted at the coming dawn. The long boughs of nearby ponderosa pines hung low under the weight of a fresh layer of glistening snow. She quietly admired the beauty of it all before finally pulling back the sheets to get out of bed. As she did, an unseen object lying at the foot of the bed fell loudly to the floor. She hopped out and walked over to the object, its cover staring plainly up at her.

Predictions in the New Business Ecology

Jeri picked up her father’s book and held it curiously. She was certain she’d left it on the coffee table in the living room the night before. She shrugged irritably at her own forgetfulness and laid it on the nightstand, then headed off to shower and dress.

The rising sun painted the early December sky a pale blue, illuminating the white trunks of aspen standing stoically outside her patio window. For the first time in ages Jeri sipped her coffee and quietly watched the beautiful procession of morning. She also tried to ignore the growing tug of nervous excitement in her stomach. 

It was her last day
at Joe’s Last Stand Saloon.

The thought brought a smile to her face. She knew it was time to move on. In fact
, it was well overdue. The full weight of that truth had struck Jeri the instant she’d found her father’s buried case. It was at that moment, as she’d held his notebooks and read his letter that she realized the truth. She’d been holding onto her father’s ghost for the past year, fighting a feeling of guilt for not being enough, not giving enough, not saying enough to the man who had shaped her world.

The irony that her own sense of guilt had been preventing the very thing her father wanted most for her – a life spent pursuing her passions – wasn’t lost on Jeri. She’d simply never stopped to consider it before now.    

She glanced down at the coffee table. The plane ticket to India she’d impulsively bought the previous day stared back at her, bringing with it a fresh wave of excitement. In two days she’d be arriving in Mumbai to begin exploring a corner of the world she’d always wanted to see. An image of busy streets and exotic colors suddenly filled her mind. It would be the first time she had traveled since her father’s death.

The ring of her cell phone abruptly ended Jeri’s daydream. She grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, then looked at the caller ID and smiled. 

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Allie asked excitedly.

“Today’s the day,” Jeri replied
. “The official end of my bartending career. I assume you’ll be stopping by. After all, it’s your last chance to get free drinks.”

Allie laughed. “Girl, I have enough guys knocking on the door to keep me in free drinks for the next ten years. But yes, I’ll plan on stopping
by after work, okay?”

“I’ll have a glass of wine ready for you.”

“Make it two. Are you packed yet?”

Jeri looked over at the open suitcase laying empty on her living room floor. “Almost.”

“Good. Of course, I still don’t understand why, of all the places in the world you could’ve picked to disappear, you chose
India
.” Allie moaned.

“Can you think of a better place?”

“A better place? Sweetie,
anywhere
is a better place. How about Italy, or the Bahamas, or a nice little ride on a cruise ship?”

“Those aren’t places, Allie… they’re tourist traps.”

“Well, just remember… tourist traps don’t have rats. Or slums.”

Jeri smiled into the phone. “
Exactly. That’s why I’m going to India.”

Allie sighed resignedly. “Well
, just make sure you take plenty of antibiotics.
God knows what you might pick up over there.”

“Consider them packed,” Jeri replied. “Anything else?”

“No. Just that I love you, and that I’m completely pissed that my best friend is leaving me for a third-world country.”

“You could come too.”

“No, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not fearless.”

“Allie, I’m anything but fearless.”

Allie sighed into the phone. “Look, I know you better than anyone, and all I can say is that whatever your father buried in that box must have worked, because you’re
back…
back to being the Jeri I knew before he died. And the Jeri I knew then was definitely fearless. So stop arguing with me and take it as a goddamn compliment.”

Jeri laughed out loud. “Okay, I’m fearless. But I hate the idea of leaving my best friend just as much as you do. So stop by tonight and we’ll toast a proper send off, okay?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Allie replied softly. “Bye sweetie.”

Jeri sat the phone down and stared out the window as the first golden rays of sunlight slipped over the hillside. She close
d her eyes and smiled to herself, a single word floating through her mind.

Fearless
.
 

∞

HSI Director Richard Connolly took his seat beneath the high vaulted ceiling of hearing room 311 and quietly busied himself with organizing his notes. Around him, the level of noise and activity within the historic Cannon House hearing room seemed to be rising in anticipation of the next proceeding. A young, pimple-blemished page walked over and placed a fresh bottle of water on the table next to him as another young man adjusted his microphone. Connolly checked his watch.

The hearing w
ould begin in three minutes.

The
hearing on
Homeland Intelligence Spending and Risk Assessment
wasn’t an official budgetary hearing, but Connolly knew it might as well be. It would be in this hearing that he would once again have the stage to outline the critical work his Intelligence team was conducting against the ever-growing threats of foreign and domestic terror. Within minutes he’d have the committee’s Chairman and eighteen congressional members riveted. First, he’d lead off with a brief summation of the complex operational and tactical intelligence-gathering procedures being used. He’d then conclude with a list of fear-inducing threats that had been detected and catastrophic disasters averted thanks to the HSI’s diligent efforts. After that, the questions that followed would be where the Department’s true budgetary needs would be defined and, under Connolly’s masterful guidance, quickly sold. For Connolly, the only discomfort he’d have to endure for the next ninety minutes would be the absence of a cigarette.    

The noise level in the room suddenly dropped as the chairman and members of the committee slowly shuffled into the room. The congressman from Connolly’s home state of Georgia gave him a friendly nod as he took his seat behind the rostrum. The room slowly grew quiet. Connolly adjusted his tie and took a quick sip of his water in preparation for the Chairman’s opening remarks.

“Excuse me, Director Connolly?”

Connolly looked up to see a broad-shouldered man
in a suit standing next to him.
“Yes.”

The man opened his jacket and quickly flashed Connolly his CIA credentials. “Would you please come with me, sir?”

“What’s this about?” Connolly asked quietly, feeling the eyes in the room now on him.

The agent
nodded towards the front of the room. “That gentleman there will be able to answer your questions, sir.”

Connolly turned and saw a tall, muscular man in a dark suit standing before the Chairman. As he watched, the man looked up and gestured towards him. 

“I’ll need you to follow me, sir,” the agent standing next to him said firmly as he placed a hand on his shoulder. Connolly forced a casual smile and stood up from his chair. He nodded briefly to the members of the committee before turning and allowing the agent to escort him down the aisle of the hearing room towards the exit. As they walked, Connolly could hear the second agent, who was apparently in charge, following directly behind. The instant they exited the room he turned and confronted both men.

“What in the hell is the meaning of this?”
Connolly demanded angrily.

Alex smiled as he pulled out his CIA identification and flashed it at the Director.
“I apologize for interrupting the hearing, Director Connolly, but there’s an urgent matter that requires your attention.”

A fleeting look of concern crossed Connolly’s face before his scowl returned. “What could possibly require my time more than this Congressional hearing, Agent Murstead?”

Alex studied the weathered face of the HSI Director, his smile suddenly evaporating. “Two dead men in China, Director. Ordered through a directive that came from the National Security Agency. Am I correct in understanding that
you
used to work for the NSA, Director?”

Connolly to a step back from
the two agents, his face suddenly pale.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Alex replied softly. He tucked his ID back into his jacket pocket and gently took hold of Connolly’s arm. “Please come with us, Director.”
 

∞

“He’s not going to be in today, Agent Coleman,” Jack Preston’s assistant said to Tom as he stood in front of the Director’s office. “The Director had an urgent matter to attend to.”

“What was the urgent matter?” Tom asked.

Preston’s assistant gave him a surprised look. “I’m afraid I don’t have that information.”

“Is he in Phoenix?” Tom pressed.

“I don’t know that either, Agent Coleman. I’m sure the Director will contact you if he needs to speak with you. Or I can take a message if you’d like.”

Tom shook his head impatiently. “Do you at least know when he’s expected back?”

“No, I do not.”

“Fine,” Tom replied abruptly. He turned and paced to the elevator.
What the hell was going on?
he wondered. This wasn’t a good time for Preston to be out of touch – not with everything that was happening right now. He took the elevator to the first floor and started walking to his office. Halfway there, a thought made him suddenly change direction and he turned down a side corridor that led to the Undercover Operations area. He walked over to Rick Martin’s closed office door and knocked loudly. There was no answer.

“If you’re looking for Rick, he’s out on some assignment,” a voice from the adjacent office called out. Tom walked over and looked in the open door.

“Do you know where he is?” he asked.

“No idea,” the
agent said with a shrug. “All I know is that he said he’d be unreachable until he was back in the office, which means all the shit happening with his pending cases is ending up on my desk.”

“I know how that goes,” Tom replied empathetically. “When’s he getting back?”

“Should’ve been back already. He told me he’d probably only be gone for a few days, but it’s been at least five days now.” The man looked harder at Tom. “Don’t tell me – did he leave you hanging with a case too?”

“No, just curious,” Tom answered. “Thanks.”

He walked back to his office as he mulled over the facts. Preston had told Tom he’d dropped an agent in Amsterdam the same night as the CIA raid on the terrorist’s hotel – exactly five nights ago. Rick Martin had now been gone for more than five days on an assignment where he was “unreachable”. In Tom’s mind, there was only one reasonable conclusion.

Rick Martin was Preston’s agent in China.

Tom marched into his office and glanced around at the cramped room. On the corner of his desk, a tall stack of unopened new case files waited patiently for him. The
Landscapes of Sedona
calendar pinned on the wall looked dull and lifeless under the fluorescent lights that twitched overhead. He walked over to his chair with its torn upholstery and stopped. A sudden rush of anger swept over him.

This was
his
fucking case to solve. It
belonged
to him – not Alex Murstead, not Jack Preston, and certainly not Rick Martin. Tom turned around and walked out of his office, the steel door shutting loudly behind him.

As he walked down the long corridor towards the exit, Tom realized Preston was right. Regardless of whether she was in league with the terrorists or not, the case still revolved around Jeri. There was nothing else he could solve from inside the ICE office,
which meant there was only one place left to go. 
 

∞

Alex paused in the corner of the small, sound-proof room inside the Central Intelligence Agency’s Langley complex and stared intently at the two Homeland Security Directors seated at the table in front of him. Neither of the men returned his stare as he once again paced the length of the interrogation room’s bright white interior. Sitting nearby, the agent who had helped Alex apprehend Connolly earlier that morning was now hovering behind a laptop and a small microphone recording the conversation.