"Who the fuck is Callie Stewart?"
"She was my liaison to Sharpe's task force. They somehow have it in their heads that she was involved. The director of the FBI is on a rampage. He ordered the arrest of our operatives at the hospital. The very men and women that risked their lives for the task force. We need to be careful. Warrants have been issued for all of us, and we're back on the terrorist watch lists."
"Jesus. How many were killed in the blast?"
"At least twenty, with up to fifty additional casualties," Sanderson said.
"How do you want us to proceed? I don't mean to sound grim, but if the task force is history, then nobody knows we're here. We should be clear to make a move against Mills."
"You never disappoint me, Daniel. Practical to a fault. I concur with your assessment. Take whatever measures are necessary to stop True America. I'll arrange to have your weapons and equipment delivered to a location of your choosing. I'm serious about this, Daniel. Do whatever it takes to drag these psychotic traitors down. No rules of engagement on this one," Sanderson said.
"I've never had much use for rules," Daniel replied.
"That's why I recruited you. Let me know when you've selected a location for the transfer. And get new phones. There's a twenty-four-hour Walmart in Scranton."
"Am I the only asshole that doesn't know about this Walmart?" Daniel said, throwing the phone in Munoz's lap.
"So, we're still a go?" Munoz asked.
"Yep. We just need to find a secure place to receive the gear."
"Walmart parking lot?"
"Sounds like a plan to me," Daniel said.
Chapter 51
"This isn't funny, Karl."
Darryl Jackson gripped the handle next to the Lear jet's exit hatch and stared out at the line of unlit private hangars less than fifty yards away. The tarmac was dark, and their aircraft had sat conspicuously in the middle of it for the last thirty minutes.
"I understand your frustration, but there's been a development."
"There's always a development when you're involved. What kind of fucking development are we talking about here? They were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago!"
"Darryl, they can't risk coming to the airport. I can't get into it right—"
"And I won't get off this muthafuckin' airplane, carrying my guns, until your ass starts explaining some shit!" Darryl Jackson said, sounding more and more like Samuel Jackson by the second.
"NCTC was hit by a suicide bomb," Karl said.
"What are you talking about? How does this keep these assholes from coming to the airport?"
"The FBI thinks Sanderson's people were involved."
"I'm out of here. No fucking way I'm turning over this gear to a bunch of fugitives."
"Darryl, please listen to me. The task force was wiped out by the blast. They lost everything and pretty much everyone. The backup servers were hit by a secondary explosion. True America crippled their efforts with this attack. The timing can't be a coincidence. True America shut them down like this for a reason."
"Then why doesn't the FBI take care of this?"
"Only a small group of agents within the task force knew about this covert operation. It's strictly off the books. Nobody else knows that Sanderson's people are in Pennsylvania. There's little chance that the FBI is watching the airport, but this mission is too important to take that risk. At least three of the operatives assigned to the mission traveled under their real identities."
"Are you fucking kidding me? The FBI could be all over this airport. How long could it take for them to track them here?"
"Sanderson's people were arrested in Brooklyn at 8:47. The nearest field office is Philadelphia. All they have in Scranton is a resident agency stuffed into the post office building. It'll take them a little while to move the necessary pieces from Philly to Scranton. I can have you back in the air within thirty minutes if you'd quit arguing with me."
"If I'm arrested, Cheryl will hunt your ass down. No place on earth will be safe for you."
"If you're arrested, I'll gladly present myself to her for mercy," Berg said.
"You're better off running because there will be no mercy. You'd better hope this works out. She just agreed to have you over for dinner," Jackson said.
"Then you better be careful out there. There's more at stake here than I imagined. Is everything ready to roll on your end?"
"Yes. Three large duffel bags filled with goodies waiting to be transferred."
"Perfect. I've arranged for a car service to pick you up on Hangar Road, right behind the hangars. I'm looking at the airport on Google Maps. The first hangar in the long row is a white structure. There's a parking lot between that hangar and the next. The car will meet you on the road at the end of that parking lot."
"You're going to make me carry this shit?"
"Are you ever going to stop complaining?"
"Just make sure the plane is here when I return. This thing better be taking me right to Princeton," Jackson said.
"What about your car back in Fredericksburg?"
"Princeton. I expect a car to be waiting for me."
"Anything for you. Thanks, Darryl. Seriously."
"No problem. Just do what you can to keep me out of jail," Jackson said.
"I'll do my best. You're a little too soft for hard time."
Darryl leaned out of the hatch and surveyed the hangars, looking for the parking lot Berg had referenced. He could barely identify it in the darkness that swallowed the private section of the airport. The absence of lighting might work in his favor, especially since the airport's tower was visible from the hatch. The fewer witnesses to this transfer, the better.
Chapter 52
The president leaned across his desk and nearly screamed at Frederick Shelby.
"You exceeded your authority, and you know it!"
"Mr. President, Sanderson's liaison to the task force helped the suicide bomber. This has been confirmed by the video feed and the testimony of an air force major. Special Agent Frank Mendoza stopped the attack, and Callie Stewart stepped in to make sure the bomb detonated. I was opposed to bringing Sanderson's people into this on any level. The details of his involvement in Europe and Russia are sketchy at best and unverified. I suspect that he's been playing us all along."
"I don't care if the video shows Sanderson himself lighting the damn fuse. You were well aware of the special circumstances surrounding our relationship with Sanderson. We still have a Black Hawk helicopter sitting in front of his goddamn compound! You don't go around me on things like that!"
Frederick Shelby considered the president's words and the tone in which they were delivered. He was clearly more concerned about the possibility of a scandal than the lives of the agents and counterterrorism professionals lost in the terrorist bombing. He knew that the president wasn't a callous, unfeeling man. He'd seen evidence to the contrary on numerous occasions. Still, Shelby had to remind himself that the president was a politician, and politics relied on reputation and image more than actually doing the right thing, or anything, for that matter.
The director didn't have that option. He had to produce quantifiable results in a timely manner or find another job. He looked up at the president and chose his words carefully. The president was more than just a simple politician. He had beat out every other politician for the grand prize. Shelby had to be cautious here. He was talking to a first-term president, who faced an uphill battle for reelection. A little contrition would go a long way right now.