The Cleric's Vault (22 page)

Chapter 41

Atlanta, GA

Sean
and Adriana stepped out of the gray Maxima after he’d eased it in the long,
six-car garage.
 

Her
eyes grew wide with the sight of the collection of motorcycles.
 
She instantly recognized several that
she’d dreamed of having but never really pursued.
 
Norton, Royal Enfield, Ducati, Triumph, Harley Davidson, and
several Japanese makes occupied the space within the confines of the hall-like
garage.
 
There were even some that
she’d never heard of before.
 
She
reverently walked over to the small fleet and eyed each machine carefully.
 
“They are beautiful,” she said respectfully.
 
“When can we go for a ride?”

He
smiled as he watched her.
 
“I guess
as soon as we get back from South America and we get a warm day.”

“You
don’t ride when it’s cold?”

“No.
 
I can’t stand it.
 
Once the temperature drops below
sixty-five, it’s too cool for me.”

She
nodded.
 
“I can see that.
 
It gets a little chilly in the desert
once winter hits.
 
Takes the joy
out of it when you are shivering the entire time.”

“Indeed.”

She
walked slowly back towards him, her eyes probing his deeply.

Caught
a little off guard, he stammered while he spoke.
 
“I…I…should show you to your room.
 
Gonna be a long day tomorrow and we need to get some sleep.”

She
pulled close to him.
 
Her eyes
locked with his as she gazed up at him for a long moment.
 
The cold night air seemed to hold them
in place.
 

Sean
broke it off suddenly and turned to open the door to the short flight of stairs
that led up into the kitchen.
 
“This way to the house,” he said awkwardly.

Her
expression was clearly that of disappointment and confusion.
 
Nevertheless, she smiled at him.
 
“Lead the way, Senor Wyatt.”
 

After
showing Adriana to her room, Sean retired to his own.
 
There were a million thoughts running through his head at
the moment, most of which concerned the beautiful Spaniard down the hall.
 
She must have thought him odd.
 
Men surely threw themselves at her on a
daily basis.
 
Yet here he was turning her down, running away.
 
He wanted her.
 
So what was he doing?
 
Things with Allyson had ended
abruptly.
 
Actually, nothing ever
really got started.
 
It would have
been too complicated with her being off on assignments and various missions all
the time for Axis.
 
He’d lived that
life.
 
He knew exactly what the
demands of the job were.
 
But
Adriana Villa…
what was holding him
back?
 
Fear?
 
He didn’t know but for tonight, he
wasn’t going to do anything about it.
 
They had a late morning flight to catch the next day and he needed to
sleep.
 
As he lay in his bed, his
mind drifted to memories from years before.
 
They lingered on a face, a young woman calling his name
before fading into darkness.

Chapter 42

Atlanta, GA

Will
sat quietly on a bench under a growth of oak trees.
 
The man he was there to meet was running a few minutes late,
something for which he had little tolerance.
 
It didn’t cost anything to arrive a few minutes early.
 
But tardiness seemed to be the culture
of the younger generation.
 
They
felt like it was completely acceptable to show up late and simply apologize it
away.

The
sound of traffic was light at that time of night.
 
Big cities always had at least some street activity during
all hours.
 
The area around
Piedmont Park was no different.
 
Some local bars and music venues were still busily serving their patrons
while an erratic stream of cars hustled by.
 

He
tried to clear his thoughts of the annoyance by taking in a deep breath of the
cool evening air.
 
Late fall in
Atlanta brought a vast array of temperatures.
 
Sometimes it could be as cold as the teens during the
holiday months while at others, temperatures could reach into the low
seventies.
 
That night was
somewhere in-between, probably in the upper forties.
 
The nearly barren branches rustled above in a slight breeze,
causing him to pull his coat a little tighter.
 

Piedmont
Park was home to a number of city activities throughout the year.
 
From concerts to parades and even
cooking festivals, it was often the center of activity.
 
Around late November, though, it seemed
temporarily forgotten, which was why Will had chosen the location for the
evening’s meeting.

“Sorry
I’m late,” a man’s voice slightly startled him from behind.

Will’s
irritation resurfaced with the artificial apology.
 
He peered at his paid help with disdain.
 
The brown haired man was probably in
his mid-twenties, dressed like he just jumped right out of an Abercrombie canoe
with a striped, cotton polo, a black pea coat, and some artificially torn jeans.
 
Cocky and careless didn’t last long in
their line of work.
 
A lesson he
would soon learn.
 
“You should
never keep an employer waiting,” he replied.

“I
know.
 
I got caught up in
traffic.”
 
The young man was
sheepish but obviously lying.
 

As
bad as Atlanta traffic could be, there wasn’t enough to slow anyone down at
that time of night.

Will
decided to let it go.
 
It wouldn’t
be an issue anymore anyway.

“We
have a new assignment.
 
And it’s
more money this time.”
 
He began
walking towards the center of the park and the younger man fell in beside
him.
 
The two crested a small rise
and then descended down the other side, out of the view of the streets
surrounding the park.

“What’s
the gig?”
 

Will
stopped in the shadows, just far enough away from the reach of one of the
streetlights that dotted the sidewalk.
 
He put his hand into a coat pocket and pulled out an envelope.
 
“It’s a lot of money this time.
 
Fifty grand up front and fifty more
when we finish the job.
 
That’s a
hundred grand a piece.”
 
He handed the
manila package to his subordinate who started unwinding the twine.

“Hundred
grand a piece?
 
Who we going
after?
 
Someone political?”
 
From within the envelope, he pulled out
an 8x11 black and white photograph.
 
His eyebrows lowered and confusion filled his face.
 
The picture he held was of him.
 
“Is this some kind of joke?”

He
barely got the sentence out before the face on the photo erupted to the pop of
a silenced gun.
 
His legs wavered
and he staggered backwards a few steps, only then seeing the black gun that
Will had pulled out from the other side of his jacket.
 
The bullet hole in his chest was
already leaking a great deal of blood through the yellow shirt.
 
He dropped to his knees, confusion and
terror filling his eyes.
 
Will
stepped closer, holding the weapon at his side.
 
“Your generation just doesn’t get it, do you?
 
You think it’s ok to cut corners, show
up late for appointments, and just by saying you’re sorry it makes everything
ok.”
 
He raised the gun, aiming it
at the stunned victim’s head.
 
“Well it’s not.”
 
The barrel popped again sending a second bullet into the man’s
forehead.
 
Will looked around
casually as the body slumped over sideways onto the sidewalk.
 
There was no one in sight, just as he’d
planned.

Placing
the gun back into his inner coat pocket, Will strolled back out to his car on
the street.
 
There were a few
drunken revelers walking down the road, but they were walking the other
way.
 
No one had seen a thing.

Chapter 43

Washington, D.C.

Emily
yawned as she walked down one of the many corridors in Axis headquarters.
 
She’d taken an early flight out of
Atlanta, sacrificing a good night’s rest.
 
Still, she felt better than she had the previous night.
 
A good shower and a least a few hours
of sleep had done wonders.
 
The
office was quiet, as it always was.
 
One of the nice things about Axis was size.
 
A smaller agency provided a less crowded working
environment.
 
Serenity was
something Emily needed.
 
There were
several questions that needed answering, and she wouldn’t really be able to
rest until she found some kind of resolution.
 
She would have to call Jim Caldwell’s boss and explain to
him that he’d been killed.
 
It was
a call she didn’t look forward to.

As
she approached her office she fumbled with her keys for a second before she
realized her door was slightly ajar.
 
Cautiously, she pushed the glass entrance open.
 
In her chair behind the desk, sat a
familiar and unwelcomed face.
 
Sam
Townsend.

“Good
morning, Emily,” he said dryly.

“Your
little ‘all-access pass’ doesn’t include my chair, Samuel,” she returned with
resentment.

“My
mistake,” his tone was lathered in insincerity.
 

He
stood and slipped around the edge of the desk and into one of the guest
seats.
 
She never took her eyes off
of him as he moved.
 
Emily knew
everything about Townsend, probably more than he knew about her.
 
His unusually fast rise to power, the
people he’d run over to get there, and even his favorite flavor ice cream were
no secret to her.
 
She’d made it
her policy to keep an eye on potential enemies both foreign and domestic.

“What
do you want, Sam?” She asked as she placed her laptop case on the dark, cherry
wood desk.

He
pulled out his cell phone and gave a quick glance at its face then slipped the
device back in his pants pocket.
 
“What were you doing out in Las Vegas, Emily?”

His
voice was genuinely curious.

“I
was out there on vacation.
 
I had
some days to use and what better place than Vegas?
 
Plus, I wanted to check up on an old friend who was playing
in a big poker tournament.”

His
tone became wry.
 
“Yes, Sean
Wyatt.
 
How is he these days?
 
Shame he didn’t stay on with the
Justice Department longer.
 
He was
a good field agent.”

“He’s
doing fine,” she replied as she sorted a few papers on her desk and placed a
few things from her bag into the top drawer.
 
And he’s happy working for IAA.
 
Pretty sure he’s never looked back.
 
So why don’t you spare me the bs and
tell me why you’re in my office, Sam?”

“Fair
enough,” he said with a smile.
 
“I
need your help with something.”
 
He
shifted slightly and loosened his red and white striped tie.

“My
help?”
 
She appeared dubious.
 
“I doubt that.
 
You have pretty much every single
agency at your disposal.
 
What
could my little operation do that they can’t?”

He
crossed his legs and leaned back, folding his hands together in his lap.
 
His face looked thoughtful as he
considered how to word his next sentence.
 
“Eric Jennings has gone rogue.
 
I need someone to find out what he is up to.”

The
statement was brazen and to the point.
 
Emily stopped what she was doing and stared at him for several seconds,
considering what he’d just said.
 
Even the few, quiet sounds of the office outside seemed to pause with
the information.
 
“What do you
mean?
 
Eric is the director of a
very respectable, very powerful agency.
 
It’s not like he’s just some field agent or an asset.”
 

She wasn’t buying it.

“All
true,” Sam waved a finger at her, “but a desk job and a government salary don’t
do a lot for the more ambitious souls of the industry.”

“Eric’s
made plenty of money,” she argued.
 
“He has to make at least in the low six figures with his years of
experience.”

“A
couple hundred grand won’t buy what it used to.
 
Jennings has some expensive tastes and habits.”
 

As
he finished the last sentence, Townsend pulled out some photos and slid them
across the desk.
 
Emily picked them
up warily.
 
They were photos of
Jennings with various women.
 
Some
were on a sidewalk, outside of hotels, and in other random locations.
 
“Looks like you already have someone
watching him,” she dropped the pictures on the desk.
 
“He can’t be spending all his money on women.”

“Not
all of it.
 
But he has other vices
too.
 
Eric has never managed his
money well.
 
And that also spills
over into his professional life as.
 
You don’t have to look very far to see that his agency is almost always
over budget, recklessly spending in areas where agencies like yours and others
always come in under.”

She
still wasn’t convinced.
 
The gears
in her mind were turning.
 
Emily
knew Townsend was a slime ball.
 
He wasn’t a man to be trusted, but he wasn’t
a man to meddle with either.
 

“Again.
 
It looks like you already have someone
on him.
 
So why do you need me,
Sam?”

He
smiled like a kid who knew a secret that everyone else wanted to know.
 
“It’s not just why I need you,
Emily.
 
I think whatever he’s up to
will interest you as well.”

*****

Will
awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing and vibrating violently on the
nightstand next to his bed.
 
Groggily, he reached over and picked it up.
 
His partner, Trent Morris was on the line.
 
That could mean only one thing.
 
Someone had been murdered.
 
Technically he was still on vacation
for three more days but he’d learned that when his partner called, it was
important.

“Where?”
 
He already knew the answer.
 
He was somewhat surprised it had taken
that long for the call to come in.
 

“Piedmont
Park.
 
Happened last night.
 
Double tap, chest and head.”

“On
my way,” he said and ended the call.

*****

“What
do you mean it will ‘interest’ me?”
 
Emily sat down in her plush leather chair and peered at her
counterpart.
 

“Jennings
was the one who tried to take you out in Vegas.
 
Not only that but as of late he has taken a keen interest in
your friends with the IAA.”

That
got her attention.
 
She pressed
him.
 
“So, you were observing them,
but you didn’t have your team try to stop them?
 
Thanks a lot.”

He
laughed.
 
“Who am I going to
use?
 
I didn’t have a team I could
call at that point.
 
My division is
primarily used for observing and collecting information.
 
I only had one guy on it.”
 
That part was true.
 
Townsend’s portion of the CIA had been
dubbed a paper tiger of sorts.
 
They could bring down just about anyone without ever firing a
weapon.
 
She figured that most of
his agents were capable of lending assistance in the field.
 
If there were only a few on the
assignment, though, it really would have taken a lot time to get members of
another agency’s team into the area in time to help.
 

“So
what were you doing in Vegas?” she asked after a few moments of reflection.

“Like
I said, we were observing.”
 
He knew
what her next question would be so he went ahead and answered it.
 
“Specifically, we were watching
Jennings’ agents.”

Emily
appeared incredulous.
 
She had a
hard time believing that so many government agents could be recruited and
operating outside the boundaries of their organizations without being noticed.

“Are
you trying to tell me that all of those operatives in Vegas work for the
Justice Department and you were there to see what they were up to?”

He
shook his head, uncrossed his legs then leaned forward slightly.
 
Apparently, he understood her problem
with that idea.

“No.
 
We don’t think any of them do.
 
We believe they’re all mercenaries,
probably international contractors.
 
They were recruited by Jennings.”
 

“Who
are they?” she asked, her interest piqued just slightly.
 
“There was a man and a woman.
 
What do you know about those two?”

He
placed a manila folder on the desk and slid it over to her.
 
Emily eyed the packet then opened it
up, revealing two photographs.
 
One
was a young man and the other a young woman.
 
Their appearance was neat and professional looking.
 
Both were attractive, probably in their
mid-twenties.
 
There was a coldness
to their faces that seemed to emanate from their eyes.

“James
Collack and Angela Weaver,” Sam said as he leaned back.
 
“I want to know who they are working
for.”

“Couldn’t
find that out on your own?” she asked in a snide tone.

He
ignored the barb.
 
“We believe that
they may be working for a secret organization known as ‘Golden Dawn.’
 
However, it appears that this secret
society has a reach into our government, of which we had previously been
unaware.”

“So
you think they are connected with someone?
 
Who?
 
White
House?
 
Senate?
 
Supreme Court?”

He
shrugged.
 
“Maybe all of
those.
 
Maybe none of them.
 
There is one particular part of
government, though, that we know Golden Dawn has infiltrated.”
 
Townsend let the thought hang for a
moment, building the suspense before he continued.
 
“How much do you know about Eric Jennings’ agency?”

Emily’s
eyes widened slightly.
 
“The Hoover
Directive?”
 
He nodded.
 
“Not much, really.
 
It’s a branch of the FBI that J. Edgar
Hoover put together as a sort of ‘black cell’ operation to work outside the
bounds of the laws the bureau has to obey.
 
No one outside of their little group really knows what
they’ve been involved with, although we usually have a pretty good idea.
 
“Surely your operation knows more than
I do.”

Her
placating tone bounced off of him like a rubber ball.
 
Nothing fazed him.
 
“We know a great deal about their operations.
 
However, most of what we know has to do with financial
information and use of resources.
 
My team does not usually get involved with much of the actual
engagement.”

Then
it hit her.
 
That was why Townsend needed Axis.
 
It was all starting to make sense.
 
“So you need someone to do the grunt work?”

He
smiled.
 
“In a manner of speaking,
yes.
 
But more than that, I need
someone I can trust.”
 
The irony
was not lost on him.
 
He knew
people didn’t necessarily trust him.
 
Nor did he care.
 
“I
realize,” he added, “that you don’t trust me and that is fine.
 
But your reputation and career have
been exemplary.
 
I know that if I
ask you for assistance you will do everything in your power to make sure that
justice is done.”