Agent of Influence: A Thriller (45 page)

              Alex wrenched the wheel of the vehicle into a sharp U-turn as he cursed to himself. He ignored the blaring horn of the vehicle he cut off.

             
“Hurry!” She demanded, “I bet that jogger was Jamal.” Anna braced herself to keep the sharp pitch of the vehicle from throwing her into the door.

How could I have been so stupid?
Alex continued his self-examination. A few minutes earlier everything had seemed to finally be turning their way. Anna and Malcolm had just finished giving him a rundown of their conversation. It took some time, but after the self-loathing finally ended Yohan agreed to find out what he could. He was scheduled to meet with Zach sometime before the inauguration, and he promised to cautiously probe for clues.

They all agreed that it was now too late to do anything
but catch Zach or Jamal in an act of treason. With only seventy-two hours to go before the inauguration they could not bring forward charges claiming the president was not a legal citizen. They would look like sore losers in the political game, trying desperately to strike back at the incoming president.

Only after Anna brought up the imposing size of the Senator’s son did the image of the jogger come back to Alex. The bulky physique, the cruel mouth peeking out from underneath the hood of the sweatshirt, and the single glance he tossed in the direction of the Yohan’s house all came flooding back.

              “Another lesson, Alex. Observe your surroundings. Always keep an eye out for anything unusual. It sounds pretty stupid and basic, but you should have noticed him immediately. Joggers are pretty common in this area, but not at midnight when it’s fifteen degrees outside.” Anna’s instructions were forceful, but not condescending. 

Five minutes later they jerked
to a stop a block away from the house. Anna bounded out of the car and up the street, keeping her upper body hunched forward as she ran through the neighbor’s yards in order to avoid the lighted sidewalks.  Malcolm ordered him to keep the engine idling, just in case they needed to make a quick escape. They both watched as she vanished through the unlocked front door of the Senator’s home. Ten long minutes later she reappeared, crossing the expanse of lawns in less than a minute. As soon as she shut the car door they roared off, getting as far away from the area as possible. 

“He’s dead, strangled to death.” Anna’s voice was calm and cool.

Malcolm nodded knowingly. He already accepted this outcome as the most likely scenario. He ordered silence until they arrived back at his house in Arlington. As they sped out of the neighborhood they could hear the distant whining of police sirens.

They pulled into Malcolm’s massive atta
ched garage forty minutes later. The garage door closed behind them before Alex had time to shut off the engine.

             
“Don’t worry, Anna. The wife is not home. She’s at her parents, probably putting together some divorce papers as we speak,” Malcolm added mischievously as they simultaneously climbed out of the vehicle. 

He flick
ed on the lights in the kitchen and started pouring steaming cups of coffee from the pot one of his bodyguards had already brewed for him. Sammy the golden retriever, appeared from one of the bedrooms and slinked back and forth among the trio, looking for attention. After a few hopeless minutes the dog plopped down on a spot near the glass door to continue his surveillance of the backyard. Anna stood behind the island in the middle of the kitchen and waited for the go ahead to speak. Malcolm took a sip and then motioned to her to begin.

             
“You were right, Malcolm. The jogger must have been Jamal. I found the Senator in the library where we talked with him. He was lying on the floor dead. His neck was crushed. It was completely limp, snapped like a twig.” She made a motion with her hands like she was breaking a stick. “I found the butler and his wife dead as well. Each one killed with a bullet through the chest. I wiped down the area you sat in and everything I touched, so there should not be any prints from us, but this could be trouble. I’m sure he noticed Alex parked on the street, and now he has a way to give the police a lead once one of the neighbors discovers the bodies. This complicates matters. We could easily become the prime suspects in a murder investigation, and to top it off, they even have a motive for us after the dressing down he gave you at that special session of the Senate Intelligence Committee.”

Anna placed her mug on the granite countertop with too much force, sending a small amount of the scalding liquid over the rim and onto her hand.
“Any ideas?” She bristled slightly from the burn and waited for her boss’s response. 

             
“I think it’s time to bring President Gray into this.” Malcolm stood with his back to them, staring out the bay window of his kitchen into the darkness of his yard. The moon provided the only light. It threw shadows through the trees, allowing him to catch glimpses of the rabbits at which his dog was intently staring.

“Have you talked to him within the last few days?” Anna asked.

              “No. I wanted to wait and see how things developed. I also wanted to inoculate him from the pariah I’ve become. He’s in deep enough as it is. He needs to know now though. I hope he sees the same danger that we see. There’s always a chance he will get cold feet and cut his losses. I wouldn’t blame him. Our little investigation has cost him every ounce of credibility he had left after his defeat.”

“What can he do for us now? He only has a few days left in office,” Alex tossed out the question.

              “Malcolm, remember what Yohan said? There are rumors floating around town that he’s started hitting the bottle again. I know how cruel the Washington gossip scene can be, but what if it’s true? He may rat us out. It would be a great opportunity for him to make good with the Washington press before he leaves office. It may even save his speaking career,” Anna said with a hint of sarcasm mixed with angst. She did not trust any politician in the D.C. area.

“Never,” Malcolm shot back at
his officer with a deadly look. “He has his flaws, but he would never do that. He’s a patriot, regardless of the shit that has been heaped on him the past few years. He took a massive risk to even approve this operation in the first place. He would not turn his back on us now. I couldn’t imagine it.”

Malcolm’s certainty trailed off for a moment as he began ticking through the possibilities. If Allan Gray was on the bottle that could be tr
ouble. The last thing he needed with this fiasco was involving someone who was not completely clear-headed. He turned around to face them. The clock on the microwave read 2:12 a.m. He had an idea. It could help allay his fears, and now would be the perfect time to find out if there was a potential problem. He excused himself and made his way to his private office. It was time to place a call to the White House.

              Zachariah Hardin fumbled around in the dark, his cell phone was attached to his ear by his left shoulder as he groped in vain for his pants. The leggy blonde rolled out of bed and was experiencing the same problem on her side of the hotel suite. Zach finally found the light switch and smacked it in disgust.

“Yeah?
Hold on, okay?” He put the phone down on the bed table, and tossed the girl her thong. “Here! Now get the hell out. I’ve got a job to do,” Zach said as he shoved her out of the room naked, a ball of clothes hiding her nude body.

“Get her out of here!” Zach groused to the Secret Service agent on duty outside his suite. He slammed the door shut withou
t even looking to see which agent it was, and rammed the deadbolt through the door so he would not be disturbed.

             
He swept up the phone off the table. “Sorry. What is it?” The late night call from Aman worried him. He listened carefully for fifteen minutes. The adrenaline surged through his body as Aman ran through the story as quickly as possible. “Okay.” Zach said, trying to remain as calm as possible. It was not good news. “Yes, I understand. Okay, he’s as good as finished. Forty-eight hours. They can’t stop it now.”  

Zach shut the phone, a look of disbelief etched across his face.
The CIA Director was hot on their trail. How they put the pieces together, he did not know, but Aman had received an urgent call from Jamal, who told him of the night’s events. He wanted to curse Jamal for his inability to control his blood lust. However, were it not for his ghoulish visit to his father, he would have never seen Malcolm’s van parked outside.

Jamal ran a trace on the license plate through his government cha
nnels after killing his father and confirmed his suspicions. Allah must be watching out for them. There was no other way to explain it. Jamal’s loss of control was actually helping them. If he had not gone over there who knows what would have happened?  Now they could go on offense. Aman was already placing calls to some friendly reporters.

Zach walked
into the bathroom to shower. In a few hours he would hold an impromptu news conference where he would announce that Malcolm Ray would not be continuing in his job once his administration took over. It would be for the best. The man clearly had a personal agenda against him, and they could not possibly have a good working relationship in an environment like that. Zachariah smirked as he thought about the statements he would soon be making. He loved playing the press for fools.

              Allan Gray was dreaming. His re-election campaign had been victorious, and he was basking in the adulation from the press when a distant rapping on a door startled him. He opened his eyes and was back in his reality, a one-term president. The knocking continued.

“Mr. Pre
sident. Please wake up. There’s an urgent call for you.” It was the voice of one of his Secret Service detail maintaining the night watch outside his bedroom door. After a few seconds Allan’s clouded mind came into focus, and he realized the knocking was real.

“Come in,” the President yelled out
. He rolled his legs over onto the floor, trying not to disturb the sleeping form of his wife.

             
A head with closely cropped blonde hair cautiously peeked in. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. You have a call from the CIA Director. He’s insistent on talking to you.”

Allan stood up.
“I’ll take it in the Oval Office. Jack, right?” He took a stab at the agent’s name. There were so many new faces these past few months he was losing track.

“Yes
, sir. I’ll call down and tell them you will take it.”

Allan hurriedly t
hrew on the clothes that were on the floor below him. He kissed his sleeping wife on the cheek, and followed Jack through the White House living quarters and over to the West Wing of the mansion. He was granted the privacy he requested. Allan plopped into the massive leather chair that was the closest thing to a throne that America would ever have. There was nothing to see outside the long window behind his chair except outlines of trees and shrubs on the White House lawn.

             
“This is President Gray,” he said with more authority than he felt.

“Mr. President. How are you doing this morning?” Malcolm refused to be the first person to break the formal tone the President set. He was pretty sure President Gray was not going to abandon them, but he wanted to be sure before divulging what they discovered.

              “You tell me, Malcolm. Its four-thirty in the morning and my body is a little off kilter. I sure hope you drug me out of bed to tell me something important. And when I say important I’m referring to only one item.” The President swiveled in his chair, and grasped for the steaming cup of coffee that had been placed on the desk before he even walked into the room.
I will definitely miss the efficiency of this place
.

“Yes
, sir. I have good news. Well, at least of a sort. It appears our hunch is correct. Only it is even worse than we thought. I have one question before I continue, sir. I’m sorry to ask this, but are you having problems with your drinking?” Malcolm hated to ask, but felt it was a necessity.

The President stiffened in his chair, “Of course not. Now, tell me everything.” It was the first true command he had given Malcolm in the last three months. 

He listened intently as Malcolm relayed everything that transpired over the past week. He left nothing out. The tattoo on the President-Elect’s leg, the discovery of the Brotherhood of the Caliphate, and the trip to Louisville, were all told in rapid-fire succession. Then came the photo, which revealed Aman, Zach, Jamal, and Aziz as co-conspirators in some unknown plot that appeared on the edge of fruition. Malcolm told him for the first time that the murder of Sean Hill was tied directly to their investigation. He spoke about Sean’s confrontation with Aziz, and the horrific suicide he witnessed. Finally, he told him of their visit to Yohan just a few hours earlier, and Yohan’s subsequent murder by his adoptive son.

             
When Malcolm finished Allan sat silently, holding the White House telephone as if he were unsure what to do with it. His mind whirled a million different ways, unsure of how to react to the news. He long ago accepted his fate as a president who would be talked about the way Nixon, Johnson, and Grant were discussed; either with a ting of hatred or sympathy, but nothing else.

Allan’s emotions now ran the gauntlet of extremes. His natural tendency towards cockiness was creeping back out of the coffin he
had buried it in a few weeks earlier. The realization that they were right in their assumptions all along was frightening because now he was being forced to actually play his hand. He realized that with legitimate proof they would have to do something to catch the conspirators in the act.

             
“Sir, are you there?” Malcolm interrupted his thought process.

“Sorry
, Malcolm. Just taking it all in. I still can’t believe we were right.” He turned back towards his desk so he could jot some notes on a pad emblazoned with the Presidential seal.

“Are you with us?” Malcolm asked meekly, unsure of what President Gray was thinking. He was one of the few men in the world Malcolm had trouble reading sometimes. Every time Malcolm thought he
had President Gray figured out he did something completely out of character. As far as Malcolm was concerned helping them made perfect sense. There was nothing left to lose, and the President already had come along this far with them. Would he be frightened off at the last possible second?

             
“Yes, sorry, Malcolm. I’m still just a little shocked that we appear to have been proven correct. I do agree with you. We can’t possibly break this to the press now. With less than three days to the inauguration we have to literally catch him in the act of something treasonous. What do you need me to do?”

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief and told Allan what he needed. The President quickly agreed and they parted voices amicably, each one of them excited, but both in dire need of sleep.

***

              “We are good. It’s a go,” Malcolm said as he re-entered the kitchen. Alex and Anna were both sitting silently on their bar stools, waiting anxiously for his return.

“Now what?” Alex asked.
             

             
“We get some sleep. The guest rooms are down the hall. You can argue over who gets the one with the bigger bed.”

“What about Aman?” Anna asked.

              “He’s staying at Blair House over at the Naval Observatory. It’s normally the vice-presidential residence. You and I will go see him before noon. I want to get to bed though and at least get a few hours of sleep tonight,” Malcolm said.

“What about me?” Alex chimed in.

“You stay here until we get back. We’ll decide on our next step after we confront Aman and see how that goes. We’ll see if we can cut some sort of deal with them to get Zach to resign as soon as possible. If he doesn’t go for it, which I think will be the case, then we’ll have to try another route. We will keep our options open until we see how Aman reacts to our threat.” Malcolm yawned and left the kitchen without another word. They could hear his footsteps trudging up the cedar wood staircase that led to the second floor. The conversation was apparently over.

They followed Malcolm’s lead and silently exited the kitchen
and headed off to bed. Neither one of them bothered to even look at which bed they were acquiring. Everyone was exhausted and did not care. Alex shut his door, yanked the covers off, and flopped onto his bed without taking off his clothes. For a moment he thought that if this were a movie he would be making love to the beautiful woman in the room next door before going off to save the world. The comical thought was never completed as his eyes shut and his exhaustion finally overpowered his fear.

Alex nearly fell out of bed as his confused body tried to remember where it was. He moved his head in a few semi-circles to take in his surroundings. After a few seconds he finally remembered that he was in Malcolm’s house. His right arm automatically reached behind him to feel for the pistol tucked underneath his pillow. Was this the life of a spy? The feeling of complete paranoia appeared to be turning into a staple in his life.

He raised his arms towards the ceiling and let out a long, drawn out yawn. The silk sheets were magnificent. He still felt ti
red, but it was a different kind of exhaustion; the kind that overtakes one’s body when he or she sleeps too much. He glanced at the alarm clock. The luminescent dial read 11:16 a.m. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself as he rolled out of bed.

              After hitting the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face he found his way back into the cavernous kitchen. Sitting on the counter was a single sheet of white paper that stood out from the dark cherry wood that dominated the kitchen. Alex squinted as he walked in front of the huge bay window. The winter sun blasted its rays across the entire room.  The message was simple.
“We are gone for the day. We have a meeting. Stay in the house and rest. We will be back by 7.”
  It was signed A & M.

Alex crumpled up the paper in annoyance. They
had left him out of their plans. He knew they were doing something dangerous, and as an amateur he would do nothing but create additional headaches, but he still wanted to contribute. It made him even angrier that in his gut he felt relieved that they left him out of the mess this time. He avoided danger without having to put up a false sense of bravado.

“Anybody else here?” Alex yelled out as loud as he could. No one answered. The bod
yguards must have gone with Anna and Malcolm. He grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and sucked half of it down before looking out the window again. Sammy was circling the backyard in a frenzied pattern, chasing after an animal Alex could not see. The scene reminded him that he had not had much exercise over the past week. He may as well make the most of his free time. A jog in the frigid air would be just the thing to wake up his body. He slugged back the last half of his water and went to search for some sweats to run in.

***

              Jamal gripped the binoculars in surprise as he watched the tall man hustle down the front stairs of the CIA Director’s house and break into a quick jog.  The last twelve hours had been a whirlwind of activity. After he informed Aman that the CIA Director was onto them, Zach retaliated with the early morning press conference where he unceremoniously fired Malcolm Ray. The speech to the media was sizzling, and he did not mince words with how displeased he was with Malcolm’s performance, and the lack of integrity shown by the Agency over the last few months. As Aman anticipated, Malcolm’s sudden dismissal brought about an angry phone call from Mr. Ray.

Tracking down Malcolm’s address was a simple matter for Jamal.  He staked out a spot in the woods early in
the morning, and waited for dawn. The press conference caused a flurry of activity, and he hoped it would pull the CIA Director out of the safe confines of his home. When the black Chevrolet Suburban shot out of the driveway on cue he began making his preparations for their return. He had maneuvered in his burrowed hole as best he could while organizing the mini-arsenal of weapons that lay on the ground beside him. It would be a quick death, which was more than the Director deserved, but time was of the essence. There was the larger picture to keep in mind, and petty squabbles with Malcolm Ray would have to be dealt with quickly and precisely.