Patriots Betrayed (11 page)

She stood and turned to him. Looking up into his eyes, she said, “I’m not even half joking this time.”

“I thought you would never ask,” he said. They walked into the tent together.

~~~

President Preston Riley stood in the Oval Office, looking out a window onto the White House lawn. “Those two traitors must be stopped. There’s no telling what information they will release next.”

CIA Director James Dulling sat in a plush leather chair. “We’re working on that. We’ve been working on it since long before they broke their non-disclosure agreement. You must understand, those two are the best we’ve ever had, and they’re experts at surviving impossible odds.”

Trey Kraust, National Security Council threat assessment analyst, spoke up. “They sent sensitive information to the press only after you tried to have them killed. Exactly what was the reason for that?”

Dulling glared at Trey. “Why, isn’t it obvious? They were and are a national security threat. They went rogue and we tried to take them out. It’s as simple as that.”

“Oh?” Trey shifted in his chair so he could see Dulling’s reaction clearly. “Don’t give me the same shit you feed the media. Why is it my people tell me it was a Russian white slave and arms trader who wanted Maddox sanctioned? Why is the CIA in bed with an asshole like Janowski?” His face revealed nothing as he searched Dulling’s face for perspiration. “Carla Baylor got involved after the fact, when your thugs came after her because she was at one time close to Maddox. Hell, she’s been inactive for longer than he has, officially retired from the CIA. You’re a lying son of a bitch, Dulling.”

Dulling forced a smile, as President Riley spun around, surprised but not shocked. Dulling’s eyes flicked to the president for a second and back to Kraust. “Being a lying SOB is part of my job.”

“Uh huh,” Trey said. “Is putting the president’s reputation and his last term in office in jeopardy part of your job? If you hadn’t been the lapdog of some asshole white slaver in Russia for some unexplainable reason – unexplainable only because you will never tell us the truth – both of these operatives would have lived out their lives without ever revealing a damn thing. This whole crisis is the result of your crooked deals with the lowest assholes on the face of the earth.” He gulped a stiff drink down. “To think that the U.S. Government sent killers after two of the finest patriots this country has ever been blessed with on the behest of one of the lowest pieces of shit that ever came out of the former Soviet Union’s ass turns my stomach.”

“That’s just your problem,” Dulling said. “You don’t have the stomach for intelligence work.”

“I don’t have the stomach for shit like you,” Trey said.

President Riley raised his hands. “Enough. The fact is even if those two were already at room temperature we would still be in deep trouble. Congress is forming committees right and left as we speak. There is no way I can talk the Republicans into stopping the investigations.”

Dulling jumped up from the chair. “You have to!”

President Riley raised his eyebrows, his forehead furrowing. “How? I’m open to suggestions. Uh, short of having every Republican in Congress sanctioned.”

Dulling didn’t hesitate. “We’re working on fabricating dirt to destroy the traitors’ credibility, so no one will believe their stories. But we still need to find them before they release more classified information.”

“You know the story I’m interested in,” President Riley said. “Concentrate on that. Keep in mind if I go down, you will certainly follow.”

“We have to find them,” Dulling repeated. “We’re working on ruining their credibility and will continue to, but we must find them before they do more damage.”

President Riley sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest. “You have the full weight of the U.S. Government behind you. Use it. Take the gloves off and divert more assets. Get it done.” He lowered his head. “I hate to see those two get hurt, but there’s no way around it now, thanks to you.” He glared at Dulling.

Dulling and Trey stepped out into the hall. Dulling moved closer to him and whispered, “You’re treading on dangerous ground, Trey. Watch your mouth. You insult me one more time in front of the boss and it’ll be your last.”

“I see,” Trey said. “Just how many are you willing to murder? Is there no limit? The circle of death that surrounds you and everything you touch continues to expand.” He tilted his head and stared at Dulling. “You should have talked him out of it. It wouldn’t have been difficult. That Italian thing should never have happened. I know he has regretted it ever since. The rest will fall on you and the CIA, but the Italian thing will take him down.”

“Shut up,” Dull hissed. “We’re not in the Oval Office; we’re in the hallway. Your operational security stinks. How the hell did you find out about that, anyway?”

“This whole thing stinks.” Trey walked away.

~~~

That night, Trey found a working payphone in a low-rent section of DC. He left his iPhone at home, knowing he was being tracked and his phone tapped. It had taken him an hour to shake the two CIA agents. Jumping out of a moving cab and ducking into a dangerous section of DC had worked. The agents who set out on foot after him were accosted by a gang on the sidewalk, giving Trey time to put distance between him and his tail. He heard gunfire behind him, so he knew the gang had gotten rough. The street thugs had ignored him when he went by. Being black sometimes had its advantages.

He punched in the numbers. A woman answered. “Hello,” Trey said. “I need to speak with Ken. Tell him it’s Trey Kraust.”

A man picked up the phone. “Trey! How the hell are you?”

“Health-wise fine,” Trey answered. “Otherwise not so much. Remember our last conversation at the Special Forces Association meeting?”

“Of course. Don’t tell me…”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Shiiiit!”

“I feel like my heart’s been ripped out, but the corruption goes all the way to the top. The revelations are true, Ken. Everything those two spooks sent to the papers checks out.”

“And that means everything every vet has fought for is bullshit.”

“Those ex-spooks are vets too, and they’re being hunted. They may not have served in the military, but they have bled for this country and are fighting for it as we speak.”

“I know. Exactly what are you saying?”

“We’ve got to help them. They’ve put their lives on the line for this country. We vets know what it’s like to be abandoned. Those two are out there more alone than anyone of us could understand.”

“I’m not sure what we can do, but I’ll make some calls and alert the organizations, call some friends. We can at least start pressuring Congress and sending letters to papers all over the country. It’ll be talked about in every VFW from Alaska to Florida.”

Trey looked around, seeing three youths coming his way. “I’ll call you in a couple days. Don’t contact me. I’ll call you.”

“So you’re hot already?”

“Hot as a Ma Deuce in a firefight. I’ve got to go. Watch your back.”

“Yeah. Take your own advice.”

Trey hung up and rushed across the street, weaving between traffic, horns blaring. The two teens followed, producing more blaring horns.

Trey turned onto a side street and jumped a fence, hiding behind a cherry tree in someone’s front yard. The teens went on by. Trey ran two miles until he got to a major roadway and flagged a cab. The first three drivers refused to stop. Being black also has its disadvantages. The fourth one overlooked his race because he was dressed well enough to appear to be a professional and not a danger.

~~~

Carla stepped out of the Post Office looking twenty years older and wearing a gray wig. The large handbag slung over her shoulder and under her right arm contained the H&K submachine gun with its stock in the shortest position. She walked briskly down the sidewalk for two hundred yards, then turned into a small independent grocer. She came out ten minutes later with a bag of groceries and several newspapers.

Raylan saw her coming. He cranked the engine and reached over to open the passenger side door.

She got in without a word, setting the grocery bag on the floor between her feet. After Raylan had driven down the road several miles, she unfolded a newspaper and held it up for him to see. “Guess what, we’re both rich and didn’t even know it.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to read the headline.

Rogue CIA Operatives Suspected of Being Double Agents.

She read the first few lines of the report. “Bank records show the two CIA agents received over one million each in payment for spying on America. Counterespionage experts say Russia and North Korea were the recipients of classified information and paid the spies well.”

“So it begins,” Raylan said. “They may not have even put any money in our accounts. The CIA has reporters and newspaper editors on their payroll. They will print just about anything the CIA tells them.”

Carla dropped the paper in her lap. “I don’t know what makes me more angry; them trying to kill us or painting us as traitors.”

“Oooh the last,” Raylan said. “People have been trying to kill us for years, but calling us traitors and fabricating evidence is a new one.”

Carla gripped the H&K. “I almost wish a couple of their thugs would show up right now. I feel like killing someone.”

“Might be someone we know. And they’ll think they’re doing the country a service. We’re traitors now.”

Carla turned white, then red with anger. “Stop trying to cheer me up, will you?”

“Okay. How about this? We need to move our camp. Satellite surveillance is going to notice the camp being there too long for us to be vacationers. The tent’s under a canopy of trees, but they’re likely to notice something sooner or later.”

“Yeah, that cheered me right up. Where to?”

“We’ll see.”

“Let’s make it some place with running water this time. I’ve had enough of bathing in that freezing stream.”

“Before we change location, we might as well stop at a bank and transfer our money to the Bahamas. I have an account there. I’m sure you do too, since we always needed working capital to dig into while on a mission.”

She laughed. “You’re kidding. You just said there may not even be any money.”

“Only one way to find out.” He glanced at her. “If they put it in our name, it’s a gift. We’d better do it fast, though, before they seize it and block our accounts, if they haven’t already. They’ve certainly flagged them and are waiting for us to pull cash out. Also, we better be prepared to move out of the area fast, because they’ll certainly come for us in a matter of minutes.”

“Probably too late.” She gave a dark blue Crown Vic a close examination as they went through an intersection. Seeing only an elderly lady in it, she checked the other cars in the area. “What the hell. It’s worth a try. If the bank employees give off any bad vibes and try to stall us, we’ll just walk out. We’re hitting the road anyway. Only thing we left at the camp is that cheap little tent.”

He nodded and turned left at a light, heading for downtown. “It’s going to be close no matter how careful we are. We’ll be slipping out of a fast-tightening loop. That is if the money is there and we pull it off.”

“Right. But exactly why are we doing this? We’re not going to live long enough to spend it.” They passed a bar. “Damn, I would like a drink right now.”

“It’s not the money. I want to spit in their face. The bastards use our Constitution for toilet paper while others die to protect it.”

“Okay,” Carla said. “But I’d rather shoot the bastards.”

“We’ll never get a shot at any of them, especially the prez.”

“Might get the Director,” Carla quipped.

Raylan froze for a second. “That might not be a bad idea. He’s no soft target, but it could be done. The president – well – forget it. Besides, the VP is just as bad and crazy to boot.”

“Why forget it? We’ve taken out the leaders of other countries?”

Raylan’s face hardened. “I’m not going to kill the President of the United States, even if he deserves it. I still believe in this country.”

Her chest deflated. “Yeah. We’re both afflicted with that disease called patriotism. Never mind the president is a piece of shit who had his mistress and unborn child murdered. He’s still the President of the United States.”

~~~

They topped off the Explorer’s tank and headed into town.

Raylan parallel parked on Main Street and reached over the back of the seat to open a pouch on his bug-out pack.

Carla opened her pack and started switching all of her identification in her wallet back to another one of her aliases. The photo on her alias’s driver license matched her current disguise. “The papers say your riches are in the name of David Sutton.”

“Yep,” he said. “I’m taking care of that now.” He switched all of the credentials in his wallet back to the alias he used at his scuba shop. “Does your alias have a valid passport?” He laid his on the seat beside him. “They’ll want to check us out thoroughly when they learn how much money we’re transferring.”

“Yeah, the whole package, even a birth certificate.” She held the passport up. “I’ve used it twice over the last two years. Took a couple vacations.”

Raylan checked to make certain no one was close enough to the car to see in, before pulling his pistol and sliding it under the pile of newspapers lying between them on the front seat. He did the same with four spare magazines. “Remember, there’s a key under the right front fender,” he said. It was in a small container with a strong magnet to hold it to the car’s metal body. Their eyes met. “In case I don’t make it back.”

She pulled her pistol and put it beside his, along with her spare magazines. “Going in without guns gives me a feeling of naked vulnerability. Damn the banks’ metal detectors at the door.”

He waited for a couple of business men to walk on down the sidewalk they were parked next to. “You have a ceramic knife in your belt, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She checked her watch. “One forty-eight.”

He checked his, setting the time to match hers. “So, you’ve already figured out what I was planning.”