Headhunters (16 page)

“Stop blackmailing people, Simon,” she said. “I’m going to
go change.”

“Need help?” I asked.

I heard her laugh as she went up the stairs. I sighed. There
would be time for that soon, I hoped.

“Simon! Your friends are here!” It was Billy. He’d come in
the back door.

I walked into the back study and found Ron Crawford and
Geoff Spanner sitting together laughing. Billy Bender was standing in the
doorway looking uneasy.

“Hey fellas,” I said.

Ron stood and shook my hand, clapping me on the shoulder.
Ron was of about average height, built like a baseball player but his head was
shaved clean.

“Simon, good to see you!” Ron said.

“You too, buddy!” I said. “Looks like your receding hairline
got away from you.” This was met with laughs and a slap on the back.

Geoff was next. He was about six feet tall and his skin was
as black as night. The fact that he spoke in a perfectly proper BBC English
accent was always startling.

“Looking good, chief!” Geoff said. “Been a while.”

“I know. I know,” I replied. “Wish it were under better
circumstances.”

“Well, I think we’re in for a jolly good time,” Geoff
replied. He fished in his pocket,  pulled something out and dropped it into my
hand. It was two sets of car keys. “You asked for a couple of fast, heavy
sedans. I got you two Cadillac CTSs.”

“Beautiful,” I said.

“They’re parked in a lot nearby, under the watchful eye of a
bloke that I tipped a hundred dollars,” Geoff said. “I promised him another
hundred if nothing happened to them for the night.”

“Good plan,” I nodded. “Ron? What’s on the menu for
tonight?”

“I think you’re going to like this,” Ron said. He reached
down and pulled out a case that had been sitting at the edge of the coffee
table. He snapped the latches open and laid the lid of the case back.

Inside were four Glock 19C pistols. They had all been
customized with compensators in the barrels to reduce recoil, making them
easier to shoot. I was used to the function of the pistol, so there was nothing
new to learn.

“Very nice,” I said. “Thanks, Ron.”

“Wait, there’s more,” he said with a smile. “I have another
case like that, so we all have backups, just in case. And then, I have this…”

Ron reached over and picked up a larger case that I had
noticed against the wall. He laid this on the table as well and opened it. I
looked at what was inside, then cocked my head first one way, then the other.

“Okay… what am I looking at?” I asked.

“You really are sheltered, aren’t you?” Ron said. “It’s a
CornerShot weapons system. It’s built to shoot around corners.”

“Get the hell out of here,” I scoffed.

“No, seriously,” Ron continued. It’s built here in the
States but we sold it overseas to Israel. They’re using it in urban warfare to
clear streets and the like without exposing troops to gunfire.”

I picked up the weapon and looked at it. It looked like a
shortened assault rifle with a folding stock, but unlike any other weapon I’d
ever seen before. I handed it to him.

“Show me,” I said.

Ron smiled and his teeth gleamed as he took the weapon from
me. He retrieved a Glock pistol from its case and snapped it into an opening in
the front end of the CornerShot.

“The weapon of choice sits up here,” Ron said. “But the
weapon folds at a 90 degree angle either left or right, just behind where the
pistol sits.”

Ron demonstrated and the assault rifle let the pistol point
in either direction, just as he’d said, horizontally bending at mid-gun.

“How do you fire it?” I asked.

“There’s a trigger back here at the rear of the weapon so
your hand never has to be exposed when firing around corners,” he said.

“Alright,” I chuckled. “But how do I aim? With a mirror?”

“I love this part!” Geoff chuckled. He and Ron must have
been talking about armaments before we’d arrived at the brownstone.

Ron held the CornerShot up to his shoulder as if firing it,
then flipped out a three inch video monitor. He turned the barrel to the left,
then the right and the image in the monitor followed perfectly.

“Digital camera and flashlight mounted like a bayonet under
the barrel.”

“Unbelievable…” I breathed.

“It’s perfect for clearing rooms, surveillance for probes
into buildings… anything we’d want to do,” Ron said.

“And you’ve got one of these for each of us?” I asked,
indicating the three of us in the room. Ron nodded.

“Alright, great job, my friend,” I said. “Let’s go see the
rest of the crew and talk about what we’re going to do.”

I opened the door and the guys filed out. I met Jessica on
the way down the steps. Ron and Geoff greeted her with a formal “Ma’am” as they
passed by. Jess looked at me as they passed.

“They’re cute,” she whispered to me as the guys walked into
the front room. I elbowed her gently.

“You’re spoken for,” I whispered back.

“I am?” she asked in mock surprise.

“Very much so,” I said. Jess chuckled but then her face
turned serious.

“Simon?” she asked. “Are you really going back to
Blackthorn?”

I could see in her face a fear of what my answer would be,
the ramifications of that decision spreading out in front of us. But I also saw
an acceptance. She would understand whatever decision I made as well.

“I mean if you did, I would understand,” she said. There was
a part of that that went unspoken. If I rejoined Blackthorn, it would almost
certainly stop the sale of DHS secrets. The police hunt would stop. Everything
would be swept under the rug. Max would be blamed and probably executed. It
solved problems, but only if I could set aside my conscience.

“Simon? Are you ready?” Billy called from the front room.
They were waiting for us. Jess turned away before I could answer, so I followed
her and found the team assembled in the front room. All eyes were on me.
Everyone waiting to hear what I had to say. I took the opportunity to look them
over.

Nan.

Billy.

Ron.

Geoff.

And my own beloved Jessica.

I swallowed hard. What I had in mind… what I was proposing
to do… was unspeakable in the realm of covert operations. I was a rogue
operative, formerly in the employ of the U.S. government and now I was planning
to take down a covert government agency. I thought of the term, “fifth column”
and thought that in the eyes of some, that title fit for us as well. I had to
remind myself that what we were doing was right. We were doing it for people
like Chris Swenson and Tom Ellis, people who couldn’t defend themselves.

“Thank you guys so much for coming here. I know that all of
us have someplace else we’d rather be…”

I thought of my son David and my daughter Melissa and of
Alaina who was like a surrogate daughter to me in recent days.

“We have—“ I began.

“Simon?” Nan interrupted, holding up her hand like a child
in school. I had built myself up to speak in front of everyone and now was
thrown off.

“Yes?” I said.

“Sorry,” she squeaked. “But I found something important.”

“Share it with us then,” I replied.

“I followed a hidden link on the Fifth Column website and
found a secured webpage. It’s password protected,” Nan said.

I was impatient.

“What is it, Nan?” I asked.

“It’s an auction,” Nan said. “A black market auction. They are
bidding on the Department of Homeland Security Files… terrorists are bidding on
the files…”

We gathered around Nan’s laptop and looked at her screen.
Data was flowing across it from right to left like a stock ticker. Names and
bids running. Below it was a clock, counting down.

22:13:47…

22:13:46…

22:13:45…

“Who is running this?” I asked and pointed at an active chat
window on the site. Someone was administering the sale. Questions and answers
ran in multiple languages as bidders inquired on the files. Bidders from
Afghanistan and North Korea and Burma and Iran. Nan looked closer and tried to
examine the code of the site, then flipped back.

“There’s only a four letter user name listed,” Nan said.

“Who?” I asked.

“The name is ‘ATHA’,” Nan replied.

I thought about that a second.

“It’s her,” I said finally. “It’s Isabelle Athabasca.
Kendrick is going forward with the sale until I flush myself out into the
open.”

I stepped back.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” I said. My voice came out clear and
crisp. I wasn’t used to being in this position. I could be a headhunter and
recruit and work one on one, but leading a team on a full-blown operation… it
would have been beyond me before, but I found myself falling into the rhythm of
command. All eyes snapped to me and so I began.

“Thanks to our friend, Christine Frost,” I began, “I have a
meeting tomorrow with Max Donovan and Randall Kendrick. In just over twenty-two
hours, they intend to sell our country’s secrets to terrorists… I don’t have to
tell you how many lives that would jeopardize. We each have someone we need to
protect, someone who could be harmed in a terrorist attack. My friend lost his
wife in the 9/11 attack… Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.

“While I’m in the meeting,” I continued. “Nan and Billy will
launch an electronic attack on that website.”

I looked at them both.

“Crash it, kill it, burn it,” I said. “Viruses, whatever it
takes…”

“Yay…” Nan said under her breath excitedly.

“Then I want their data,” I continued. “Hack the system at
Fifth Column and strip out the DHS information.”

“What about their existing system?” Billy asked.

“Rip its guts out,” I said. My eyes had narrowed. I could
feel the anger burning inside me. “Disable their security systems for us and
then strip the system.”

I looked at Geoff and pointed him out.

“If you haven’t met Geoff…” I said. “That’s Geoff. He
commandeered some vehicles for us. Along with Billy’s mobile command station
within the van, we can circle the city, hacking into Fifth Column. The
advantage is we’ll already be mobile and harder for them to track. Jess, you’re
driving in the van with them. Keep to open areas, multiple exits, don’t get
boxed in. Okay?

“Geoff and Ron… that’s Ron there… are going to be raiding
the Fifth Column offices while I’m inside,” I said. “The intent is a soft
entry, no casualties. They’re going to quietly breach security and grab all the
hard copies of the DHS files. We good to go?”

Geoff and Ron grunted the affirmative.

“We are taking back what is ours,” I said. “We do not need
to live in fear. We do not need to run. We are in the right. We are doing what
no other law enforcement agency possibly can. We are defending this country and
everyone in it. And we will drive these bastards into the ground like the
snakes that they are. Are we ready?”

The team let out a cheer and I felt lightheaded from the
adrenalin rush.

“The people in this room mean the world to me,” I said. “I
want you all to know that here and now… I could not do this without you…  I
looked them each in the eye and knew then that they were ready.

“Everyone goes home,” I said. It was my promise. My vow. We
would not fail.

“Alright, let’s get ready,” I said and the team was moving,
getting prepped. They trusted me and I hoped more than anything it was not in
vain. I turned to Nan who was returning to her laptop. Jess came up and put a
hand on my shoulder.

“Nan?” She looked up at me and I could have sworn I saw a
tear in her eye. “I need one other thing…”

“Name it,” she replied.

“I need the medical records for Randall Kendrick…”

Chapter Fifteen

We were nearly packed when the
Chicago Police Department raided the brownstone. I was in the third floor
bedroom when I heard the screech of tires outside. It’s not an uncommon thing
in Chicago. Traffic can be heavy and things happen, but what caught my
attention was the proximity of the sound. I glanced out the window and saw
first two squad cars, then a third slide to a stop out front.

I ran from the window, trying to find everyone else.

“The police are here!” I bellowed. “Police are at the front
door!”

I found Jess getting dressed in the bathroom after a shower.

“Jess, the cops are coming!” I said. “Get in the bedroom!”

She grabbed an armload of her stuff and ran past me. I
bounded down the stairs. Ron and Geoff had already left to pick up the cars.
They’d taken the weapons with them. Not that I intended to shoot it out with
the cops, but I felt naked without something to defend myself.

I ducked my head down the stairwell to the first floor and
caught just a glimpse of first Nan and then Billy run through the house.

“Go, guys! Out the back!” I shouted.

They gave no answers, just the sound of retreating feet. I
had explained the situation to everyone. How we had to work covertly. How the
police would be watching for us. For Nan it was nothing new, she’d been
involved in scrapes with the law since she was eight. For Billy, it was an
acquired taste. He knew he was doing the right thing. It just took a little
work to coax out his inner bad boy.

The front door erupted with the sounds of pounding. I could
see the shapes of several men through the frosted glass.

“Chicago Police Department! Open up! We’ve got a warrant!”

I cursed to myself and ran back up the steps. I had
recognized the voice. I hadn’t even thought about it until that very moment. It
was Ken Gibson from the Alexandria Police Department. He was still on the case.
Kendrick may have been ready to bring me in, but as far as Ken Gibson was
concerned, he was ready to bring me down.

I ran back up the steps, taking them two at a time. I
cleared the top of the first flight of steps when I heard them pound a second
time. I was halfway up the stairs to the third floor when I heard the
resounding crash and the door splinter and slam open. They had been prepared an
entry team to break down the door. Now they were in the house.

I entered the bedroom and saw no one. The room was empty. I
couldn’t see Jessica anywhere. I whispered her name but before I got an answer,
I could hear feet pounding up the steps  below me.

The closet was to my right and I slipped inside, closing the
door behind me. In the ceiling of the closet was an access panel that I had to
stand on my toes to reach. I pushed it aside then jumped up, grabbing the edge.
I hauled myself up, then had to adjust my hands with the edge of the opening
biting into my stomach. I managed to get all the way up into the attic and
return the access panel cover.

I looked up and felt the creepy tickle of a tangle of spider
webs touch my cheek. I tried to brush them away and found more webs. I fought
back the urge to panic and brushed myself off. I wanted to move away, to get
clear of the webs, but knew that I’d only stumble into more of them, so I
stayed put and tried not to disturb them any more than I already had. It wasn’t
the webs I feared so much as the spiders that resided in them. It was just a
silly, childhood phobia I told myself, nothing more. I’d blundered into a
spider in my father’s workshop once and I’d screamed. My father had cursed at
me, laughing and killed the spider with a claw hammer. The creature squished
under the hammer and hated them ever since.

I kept still as much as I could and focused on breathing.
The thick stench of old insulation and dust filled my nose and I tried to
breathe slowly and not take in too much of the foul air. Then I heard the
bedroom door open below me.

I could hear the cops moving through the house. I knew how
they looked for suspects. They were thorough and if we stayed here long enough,
eventually they’d find us. Ken Gibson was a good cop, and he wasn’t going to go
away empty-handed. I hoped that Nan and Billy made it out safely. Worst case,
Billy was a federal officer and would likely show his ID. He might even make up
a story about how he was arresting Nan. Oh she would love that…

I heard the closet door under me open, then a moment later
the ceiling light was clicked on. I could see the light from the bulb shining
through around the edges of the access panel. A long moment passed and then I
heard what I could only interpret as a dissatisfied grunt. The light was
switched off and the door closed. I stayed where I was and continued to listen.
The footsteps on the third floor retreated slowly. There was a low murmur of
conversation and some cursing. The sounds slowly faded.

I waited then, not being too eager to expose my position. I
counted in my head… calculating the seconds, seconds into a minute, a minute
into ten minutes… until finally, I thought it might be safe.

I pulled up the access panel slowly and set it aside. I was
eager to leave my newly made arachnid friends behind, but didn’t want to jump
down and announce myself. I sat on the edge and slowly lowered myself down. I
couldn’t feel the floor under my feet, even when I hung by my fingertips. I
relaxed my legs and let myself drop. I landed almost soundlessly, my knees
bending deeply to cushion the impact. I waited, even then, waiting to hear
sounds of someone coming. There was nothing.

I pulled the door open then and saw Ken Gibson sitting on
the end of the bed, shoes off, stainless Smith & Wesson automatic cradled
in his hands. He was looking at the closet door, waiting for me.

“Hello, Ken,” I said. I raised my hands hopelessly. I was
caught. He had me dead to rights. There was nowhere to go. “How’d you find me?”

Ken shrugged.

“I did my homework,” he said finally. “You have no family
here, so I checked with your parents. No luck. Then your friends. Turns out you
were close with a Jessica Madison from work. She has relatives here. A cousin,
right here in the city. We talked to the neighbors, turned out there’s been a
lot of activity here for someone who’s away on vacation.”

I smiled despite myself.

“You did your homework, alright,” I said. “I’ll give you
that. Tell me something, though. Why didn’t you have your uniforms pull me out
of that attic?”

Ken shrugged again.

“I didn’t want to get my hands dirty,” he said. “And I
wanted to hear your side of this whole fiasco.”

“Max Donovan is under Blackthorn investigation,” I said.

“And what about those agents?” Gibson asked. “They were on
my ass up until this morning. Now they packed up and left.”

“Those are Randall Kendrick’s people,” I said.

“Who’s Kendrick?”

“My boss… my old boss,” I said. “He’s wandered off the
program. Needs to be brought in. That’s what I’m trying to do here.”

“So your story is that Kendrick is the problem here, not
you?”

“That’s right,” I replied. “I’m sorry, Ken. But I really
have to go.”

Ken leveled the pistol at me, rising up off the bed into a
firing stance.

“I’m afraid not, friend,” he said. He looked ridiculous,
aiming the pistol at me but with no shoes on. He took a cautious step closer
and the floor didn’t creak. He’d taken his shoes off so he wouldn’t make any
noise. Ken was smart and I dared not underestimate him.

“Ken, listen…” I began.

“I want to hear about the murder,” Gibson said. “I want to
hear about it right now. Before we get downtown and you lawyer up and
everything starts circling the drain. I want to hear it from you.”

I saw something move behind Gibson, but I forced myself not
to look. If I looked, I’d give it away and God knows what Gibson would do then.
I had to stall while I could, keep him focused on me and not on the shape of
the person crawling out from beneath the bed.

“Ken… you have to know, it wasn’t me,” I said. I could see
the shape behind him, lifting the lamp from the end table. “I could never hurt
anyone like that. You have to believe me. It… it wasn’t me.”

Jessica was behind him then, holding the lamp up to her
shoulder like a major league baseball player. She swung the lamp, but the cord
was too short. The lamp broke on Gibson’ head. His face crumpled in pain, his
shoulders hunching, and he reached a hand up to his bleeding scalp. But he
didn’t pass out.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” he spat, whirling with the gun.
“What the hell are —?”

That was as far as he got and then I was on him. I grabbed
Gibson’ gun hand and twisted. I heard the sharp, sudden snap of bone breaking
and Gibson screamed like an animal caught in a trap. I wrenched the gun away
from his clutching fingers and spun, clubbing him at the base of the skull.
Gibson went down hard.

I looked up at Jessica and her eyes were wide in shock and
surprise. She hadn’t had the time to dress before the cops had arrived and she
stood in a bra and jeans and I could see the staccato beating of her heart in
her chest.

“You okay?” I said, putting my arms around her.

“No.”

“Me too,” I said.

I pulled away and although she was trembling, she seemed to
be unharmed. She dressed quickly and I opened the bedroom window. I leaned out
and found a drain pipe. If I leaned far enough out, I could see the tail of a
squad car still parked in front. The police were still there. We’d need to get
out as quickly as possible.

I quickly described my escape plan to Jessica.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. It was a rhetorical
question, I knew. I obviously wasn’t kidding and if we could have walked out
the front door, I probably would have opted for that choice. But our choices
were limited, so we returned to the window.

“It’ll be okay,” I reassured her.

“Um, no, it won’t,” she replied. She stood still as if
rooted to her position.

“I know you’re scared,” I began.

“I’m terrified,” she corrected me.

“Alright, you’re terrified,” I agreed. “But if we stay here,
we’ll be arrested and thrown into jail and then you’re going to be terrified in
a jail cell.”

“Fine,” Jess said tersely.

“I’ll go first,” I suggested. “Then if anything happens I
can break your fall.”

Jessica said something under her breath that I felt certain
I was better off not hearing. I crawled through the window and grabbed the
drain pipe. It appeared to be anchored fairly securely to the brownstone. I was
struck by a feeling of vertigo as I swung my leg out over nothingness, then
came back to the wall.

“Alright, come on out, Jess,” I said.

Jess didn’t come out.

“Jess,” I hissed and looked over at the squad cars,
wondering if anyone would suddenly get the bright idea to look up. Just when I
was about to crawl back inside to see what had taken her so long, she finally
stuck her head out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said through gritted teeth. “I
had to get a shirt. I’m not climbing walls in my underwear…”

I hadn’t suggested any such thing, but the thought made me
chuckle despite myself. I choked back my laughter though, seeing Jess struggle
to get ahold of the pipe. Finally she had it and hung on for dear life.

“Okay, here we go,” I said.

We moved down an inch at a time at first, feeling our way as
we went. At each bracket that held the pipe to the building I had to release my
grip, move my hand and slide down a little further. Our progress was
agonizingly slow. I was being cautious. Jess wanted to get down faster and so
was trying to rush me along. At one point, her foot nearly stepped on my hand
and I had to move quicker. We continued on like that until eventually the
ground was close enough and I dropped the last six feet. Jess followed close
behind until she stood next to me between the houses.

“Guys! Get up here!” we heard the voice from the third story
bedroom window. “Gibson is down. Call it in. Officer down! Officer down!”

Jess and I ran toward the backyard and ducked between
houses. We stayed off main streets for blocks and eventually hailed a cab. From
the backseat I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed.

Billy Bender’s cell phone rang once, twice, three times and
I could picture it then chiming away impotently in some property box deep
inside the Chicago Police Department. With that as my thought of the day,
thinking of the operation as a whole stalled. I was capable of a lot of things,
but breaking into the police department to rescue someone from lockup just
wasn’t on the menu today.

I didn’t like considering the possibility that I could give
up Billy and Nan when they were in a tight spot. It said something cold and
callous about my personality, a numbing of emotions to the pain of others. I
didn’t like thinking that I could be apathetic about them. Didn’t like thinking
that at all.

Billy saved me from that treacherous train of thought when
he answered his phone on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” he said and in that one word, I knew how he was.

“Billy…” was all I could say.

“What the hell, Simon…” he croaked. “What the hell happened
back there?”

My first thought was crude and trite and I bit my lip to
keep from saying it aloud. Billy deserved better than the obvious observation
that the cops were on to us. Surely he could see that for himself without me
pointing it out to him.

“It’s bad, Bill,” I said. “We need to meet. Are you and Nan
okay?”

The line was silent for a moment and I could hear a
hydraulic hiss in the background. They were on a bus or public transportation
of some kind.

“Yes…” he said finally. I could hear Nan in the background
then, asking if it was me on the phone and if it was me that I should piss off.
Her commentary turned into a rant, peppered with vulgarities. I couldn’t blame
her. This wasn’t going at all the way that I had planned.