The Cleric's Vault (23 page)

“Justice?”
She asked warily.

“Yes.”
 
He waited for her reply without adding
anything else.
 
His expression was
serious and anxious.

She
considered what he was asking.
 
All
of her agents were in the field at the moment.
 
Her best one had left a week ago to head to Uganda on a
special assignment.
 
He was the
last one available for the foreseeable future.
 

“I
suppose I can look into it,” she said finally.
 
“But I can’t make any promises.
 
And I’ll have to use some external resources.”

He
held out his hands.
 
“That’s all
I’m asking for.”
 
Then he stood and
headed for the door.
 
He stopped
and turned around and said, “Thanks Emily.
 
I owe you one.”
 
With that, he closed the door and disappeared into the hall.

She
looked down again at the photographs.
 
The faces definitely belonged to the two attackers from Vegas.
 
She’d recognized them immediately.
 
Now Sam Townsend wanted to know who
they worked for.
 
Something didn’t
quite make sense.
 
If he believed
they worked for Eric Jennings and the Hoover Directive, what else was there to
know?
 
Plus, he’d already made the
connection to Golden Dawn.
 
It
seemed like he already had it all figured out.
 
Townsend must have believed the story went deeper but
couldn’t figure it out, something that also didn’t add up.
 
Sam had just as many resources as she
did.

Emily
laid the photos back on the desk and plopped down into her chair to think for a
few moments.
 
Doing the favor for
Townsend was a bi-product.
 
She’d
been planning on looking into Golden Dawn and its “prophet” anyway.
 
Now she could kill two birds with one
stone.
 
Never the less,
something still didn’t feel right.

Chapter 44

Atlanta, GA

Will
Hastings held up his police badge as he walked through the police line and past
the onlookers and flashing cameras.
 
It was too early in the morning to have to deal with this.
 

Growing
up in an orphanage had made him tough.
 
Will had been at the top of his class in everything he’d ever done all
the way back to first grade.
 
He’d
applied to a special program in the Justice Department right out of college and
had breezed through the rigorous physical, psychological, and mental trials
that had been the downfall of many others.

Upon
completion of the training course, he had received an odd letter requesting a
meeting in a specific location.
 
All the letter had said was that he would be provided the opportunity of
a lifetime and would never have to worry about money again.

Later
that night, at the appointed time, Will had gone to the meeting place specified
in the correspondence.
 
He’d been
curious and the place was public enough, just outside a coffee shop in downtown
Washington.
 

A
black Yukon had pulled up and the rear door opened.
 
Inside, an old man sat smiling at him.
 
“Looks like rain.
 
Need a lift?” he’d asked
insistently.
 

Will
nodded and stepped into the vehicle.
 

His
life had changed dramatically since that day.
 
The Prophet had told him about the mission of Golden Dawn
and how it would make the world a better place.
 
He explained that soon, they would have the power to wipe
out all of the useless and evil people in the world and start the human race
over again.
 

Will
had developed a keen hatred of criminals and other people who bled the
government dry every month.
 
He
hadn’t really bought into the religious mumbo jumbo that The Prophet had been
spouting.
 
For him, it was enough
that he wanted to cleanse the earth of the riff-raff.
 
Extreme?
 
Maybe.
 
Or was it more
extreme that criminals were housed in prisons all over the country at the
expense of billions in taxpayer dollars.
 
And what of all the useless people who’d been on welfare for years,
doing nothing but sucking money out of the system.
 
To Will, the Prophet’s proposal appealed to him on that
level.

When
an archaeologist in Atlanta had discovered clues the old man believed would
lead to an ancient stone somewhere in North Georgia, Will had moved to Atlanta
to work with the city’s Police Department.
 
The paperwork had been put together quickly and no one had
thought anything about the transfer.
 
Even fewer bothered to ask questions.
 
The Prophet was well-connected, indeed.
 

The
only downside to using a cover as a police officer was actually having to do
police work.
 
Small price to pay
for the benefits he was receiving.
 
The Prophet had been very generous.
 

Will
walked through a few more ranks of officers and CSIs before arriving at the
motionless heap on the ground.
 

The
body was on its side, lifeless eyes staring off into the hill to the east.
 
A hole in the forehead signaled the
likely cause of death, a thin line of dried blood tracing from it to the point
where it had dripped onto the ground.

Hastings
had no problem looking at the man he’d killed the night before.
 
The man had served his purpose.
 
The man had been Will’s surveillance
puppet, ordered to watch Tommy Schultz from the moment he’d announced his initial
discovery.
 
The man had followed
his orders, for the most part.
 
In
the end, though, he had to die.

“How
was your vacation?”
 
The familiar
voice of his partner Trent Morris came from behind him.

Will
turned and saw the tall, stately figure holding two cups of coffee.
 
His tan trench coat was a contrast to
his dark brown skin.
 
Trent had
grown up in a tough neighborhood on the east side of Atlanta.
 
He’d decided early in life he would
choose the right path, something that had gotten him in a few tight spots as a
youth.
 
As he’d grown older,
though, his reputation commanded respect from all.

“One
of those for me?” Will asked with a grin, his breath coming out of his mouth
like fog in the cold air.

Trent
held out one of the steaming cups.
 
“It’s the least I could do.”

Morris
had been a police officer for a few decades and was extremely popular within
the department.
 
He always took
good care of the people around him and treated everyone with respect yet was
unafraid to use his authority when needed.
 
He was a true leader.

Will
hoped he wouldn’t have to kill Trent at some point.
 
He liked the man.
 
Personal ties, however, had to be severed sometimes.
 

“I
suppose I don’t really need you here but I just want to make sure your involved
as much as possible whenever something comes up.
 
The more you get hands on the better.”
 
There was a hint at something in the
tall, black man’s voice but Will couldn’t place what it was.
 
He went on.
 
“Obviously, two gun shot wounds.
 
One to the head.
 
One in the chest.
 
Looks to
be close range.”
 

Will
knelt down and examined the body more closely, examining his handiwork.
 
“Forty caliber,” he said in a hushed
tone.
 

“Mmmhmm,”
Trent agreed.
 
“Ballistics should
confirm that.”

Hastings
stood again and took a gulp of the hot coffee.
 
“Who is he?”

Trent
looked distant for a moment then said, “Walk with me.”

Confused,
Will obeyed and followed as his partner began walking away from the crime scene
towards a little patch of bushes and trees just out of earshot of the other
people working in the area.

“What
is it?”

Morris
looked around in all directions as if making sure no one could hear.
 
“Officially, we don’t have a positive
ID.
 
When the report comes out,
it’s going to be listed as a drug deal gone bad.
 
It has all the makings of an execution so that’s what we’re
going to call it.”

“So
we’re going to do a cover up?
 
Why?” Will appeared dubious.

Trent
pulled closer and when he spoke it was barely above a whisper being extra
careful that no one could hear.
 
“Because the victim is a federal agent.”

Chapter 45

Atlanta, Georgia

The
morning had been busy.
 
Sean and
Adriana had gone to some shops in Buckhead that he knew would be open in the
morning hours.
 
His Spanish
companion had needed some clothes due to their hasty escape from the desert.
 
So they’d spent thirty minutes grabbing
some things she would need for the next few days.
 
Hardly the way either one of them would have prepared for a
trip to another continent but under the circumstances, it would suffice.

Satisfied
they had all their required supplies, they drove in contemplative silence to
the airport.
 
Sean pulled his sedan
up to the outside of a private hangar on the outskirts of Hartsfield
International.
 
Enormous black
letters designated that the gray-metal facility belonged to the IAA.

After
they’d removed their bags from the trunk, he and Adriana walked around the
front corner of the building and through the huge opening.
 
Inside, a white G5 jet with the same
black lettering stood silently in the cavernous recesses of the hangar.

Tommy
was busily checking some paperwork off to the side where his car sat near the
interior wall.
 
A few mechanics and
maintenance workers were going through their routine check sheets to make sure
the plane was going to operate as it should.

“That’s
quite a jet you have there,” Adriana commented as they approached.

Sean
grinned.
 
“Thanks.
 
Having your own company plane certainly
has its advantages.”

“I
can imagine,” she said, her mind drifting off as she spied the sleek
vehicle.
 

Tommy
noticed them as they drew near and handed the clipboard to his driver who
acknowledged him with a nod and retreated to the black car forty feet
away.
 
He reached out and offered
to take one of the bag’s Sean was carrying.
 
“I’ll get that for you,” he said with a smile.
 
“Did you guys get some sleep last
night?”
 
There was a playful tone
in his voice.

“Yes,
it was nice to get some proper sleep,” Villa commented as they followed Schultz
up the steps into the cabin of the jet.
 

He
was either going to get no details or there were none to get.

At
the entrance to the plane, the passengers were greeted with a luxurious aroma
of leather and rich wood.
 
The
plane’s interior opened up into a lavish space decorated in cream-colored
floors and walls, accented by dark wood panels and furniture.
 

Several
rows of tanned, Napa-leather seats faced each other with plenty of space
in-between each.
 
A wall jutted out
towards the aft of the cabin and was separated with a doorway.
 

“This
is our main travel quarters and meeting room,” Tommy said, extending his
hand.
 

“All
of these seats recline but in the back,” he pointed to the door, “we have some
sleeping rooms as well for the longer trips.
 

“Impressive,”
Adriana said as she stepped over to a window and leaned over, taking a look
outside.

Tommy
took the baggage and stowed it in an overhead bin near the exit.
 
“If you will excuse me, I’ve got to
take care of a few other things before we head out.”
 

Sean
plopped down in a comfortable leather seat and leaned back while Adriana took a
seat opposite of him.
 
He cast her
a casual smile, which she returned in kind.
 

“Thank
you for being a gentleman last night,” she said after a brief moment of
silence.
 

The
grin eased over to one side of his mouth.
 
“Don’t give me more credit than I deserve.
 
I was just tired, that’s all.”

She
wasn’t buying it but decided not to press the issue.
 
What she hadn’t determined was whether or not he was holding
back because of choice or because of some deeply seeded pain from his past.
 
Maybe it was a touch of both.
 
He seemed genuinely attracted to
her.
 
Men usually were.

Villa
had had her share of suitors through the years, none of whom captured her
interest.
 
As a younger woman, boys
had shown little interest in her.
 
They had always paid more attention to her school friends than her.
 
As a result, she’d spent much of her
time in high school and college doing things like rock climbing, traveling, and
studying.
 

The
ugly duckling, though, had grown up.
 
Now men threw themselves at her on a regular basis.
 
She was glad she had the experiences of
her youth because she had learned a lot about human nature.
 
Most men didn’t seem to look beyond the
exterior of a woman.
 
For the last
few years she’d blown off several different men and she rarely associated with
women.
 
Adriana was comfortable
being a loner.

Her
thoughts were interrupted when Tommy re-entered the plane.
 
“Look who we just picked up.”

Will
stepped through the entrance with a duffle bag in hand.
 

“Hope
you don’t mind if I crash this little party,” he said with a grin.

Sean
returned the smile.
 
“We’ll take
all the help we can get.”

The
young detective sat down in a seat next to Adriana, across from Sean.
 
She had an uncomfortable look on her
face but said nothing.

“So,”
he began, “this morning I got a call for a homicide in Piedmont Park.”

“Aren’t
you on vacation?” Sean interrupted.

Will
lifted his hands, “When the boss calls you gotta go.”

Wyatt
nodded in understanding.

“Turns
out it was a government agent.
 
Former FBI guy.”

At
this news, Sean leaned forward.
 
“Who?’

“Jack
Turner.”

Sean
thought for a moment, staring off to the vacant side of the plane.
 
Then shook his head.
 
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Tommy
stood quietly listening to the conversation.
 
He didn’t know the victim either.

Will
went on, “It shouldn’t ring a bell.
 
He’s with the Hoover Directive.”
 
He let the news settle on his audience.
 

Adriana
clearly didn’t understand.
 
Sean
gave her a quick version, “It’s a top level government agency.
 
They operate outside the bounds of most
of the other parts of the justice department.
 
To the general public, they don’t exist.
 
Very secretive.”

Will
assumed she understood and continued, “Looks like he was executed last night in
the park.
 
We still don’t have any
leads.
 
Just a few bullet casings
and the body.
 
No witnesses.
 
No suspects.”

“So
Trent didn’t want you on the case?” Tommy spoke up.

“He
called me early this morning but by the time I got there, feds were already
taking over.”
 
A serious look came
across his face.
 
“I can tell you
this much, that little story is not going to reach any of the media
outlets.
 
They’re calling it a
drug-related shooting.”

Sean
was pensive.
 
“What do
you
think it was?”
 

Will
leaned back in his chair.
 
“I don’t
know.
 
Our connections are
limited.
 
But Trent was able to get
the guy’s name, which is probably more than the Directive would have
liked.
 
They prefer to remain
anonymous.
 
Real anonymous.”

“You
look tired,” Sean commented casually.

For
a brief second, Will looked uncomfortable but then resumed his casual
demeanor.
 

“I
just need some sleep.”
 
Then he
changed the subject.
 
“Since
Atlanta PD was taken off of the case, I went back on vacation and called Tommy
to see if you guys wanted me to tag along.
 
Never been to South America.”

Tommy
beamed.
 
“We can always use another
gun.”

Sean
nodded in agreement.
 
“Hopefully we
won’t need them.”
 
He looked out
the window, thoughtful again.
 
“But
my guess is this Golden Dawn group is not going to go away easily.”