Shadow point, p.22
Renegade, page 22
“He’s smart like that,” I said, wanting to crow with pride at Miguel’s soundproof environment idea, just like a SCIF where no one could overhear what was being said with a parabolic microphone. All Federal offices had them, but Miguel had decided that walking into the FBI to meet with our friends, wasn’t a good idea if we were being followed. If it was someone from the CIA, they’d surely recognize their former Associate Director of Military Affairs walking into the building.
I gave my partner an affectionate glance before walking over and exchanging handshakes and greetings with the others. When I turned to the dark-haired Thorne who clearly knew Miguel, I hesitated, clearing my throat. “We haven’t met,” I said, trying to keep my voice friendly, though, it was difficult.
“Let’s take this party inside,” Miguel said, interrupting.
My eyes widened. “Of course.” I walked over to the wide-eyed receptionist who was sitting behind her desk, gawking at all the huge men standing in the lobby. I put on my best smile as I spoke to her. “Hi there. My name is Raven Mathis.” I pointed at a large blotter on the desk. “We called earlier and made an appointment for one of the podcast studios.”
She dragged her gaze away from Mac who was looming over the desk beside me. The man stood nearly six-foot-eight, taller than any man I’d ever seen. He had shockingly bright orange hair cut in a crew cut and more freckles than stars in the sky dotting his pale skin. He was the epitome of a gentle giant who was also a former Green Beret, and I liked him very much.
She looked at me and then down at the blotter, finding my name where she’d probably written it earlier. “Yes,” she said, standing up. “Just for the hour, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, following her as she walked to a closed door and then opened it with a key. “Come on back.”
We followed her into a hallway, crammed with closed doors, some with lit signs above them but not all. She led us to one a few doors down and turned back to me. “Will you need an engineer?”
“No, like I said on the phone. We have our own. Thank you.”
She eyed us up, probably checking for equipment but when she saw we had none, she shrugged. “Sure, no problem,” she said, opening the door. “Here you go…one soundproof podcast studio.” She led us inside and pointed to the tables filled with equipment. “The recording equipment is there, and no one will disturb you.” She pointed back at the door. “Once you’re ready, flip the switch and the light outside will come on. No one will bother your recording until you turn it off again.” She demonstrated and the light flicked on and off. “Will there be anything else?”
“No, and thanks very much,” Miguel said, walking over to her, wearing his most charming smile.
“I’ll be back when the hour’s up,” she said before shutting the door.
We waited for her to leave before Miguel turned on the switch then walked back over to stand by my side. He gave me a look before turning to the stranger and sweeping out a hand toward him. “Raven Mathis, this is Damon Thorne,” Miguel said. “We worked a lot together when I was in the Corps. Damon is CIA.”
“Was CIA,” Damon corrected, smiling at me as he held out his hand. “I left the Company a long time ago. It’s nice to meet you, Raven.” He frowned a little. “I understand you’ve been having some trouble with people I might know.”
I blew out a relieved breath. “God, I sure hope so. Thank you for coming.” I glanced almost warily at him. I couldn’t help but feel suspicious of him because other than Mac and Mark, he was the only person I’d ever met from the CIA. He didn’t look vicious or ruthless like the man in the stairwell and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been accepted by all these men who seemed to be friendly with him. Besides, Miguel and he seemed to have had a warm relationship, at least in the past.
“What are you doing here, Thorne,” Miguel asked, as if he’d read my mind. “How do you know these guys?”
“I’ve known them for a while now,” Damon replied with a smile. “And, when Mark Evans calls, it’s kind of hard to say no.” He eyed up Mark before looking back at Miguel. “I have only the greatest respect for the man, and I’d jump through hoops for him. I also respect these guys a whole hell of a lot. They all came to my rescue several years ago when a rogue faction of the CIA tried to kill me and since Mark knew that, he called me when he learned you were having troubles of your own.” There was something disturbing and very sad in his eyes as if he was remembering the past. “I’m really sorry to hear you think operatives are following you.” Before I could say anything, he glanced back at Miguel. “And as far as you’re concerned, Trigg, I’m sorry they may have something to do with John Sutter’s disappearance in the desert.”
I was intrigued to know what he knew about Sutter’s disappearance but also what he knew about rogue CIA factions. Maybe this man really could help us. Clearly, Miguel and Mark trusted him, so I decided I should as well.
“Thanks, Damon.” He swept a hand toward the two couches in the room. “We might as well sit down so that I can fill everyone in on what’s going on. There’s quite a few more details I need to share with all of you.”
Mark’s face was grim. He nodded and my heart did a flip-flop in my chest, wondering what he’d learned, hoping it wasn’t bad. I could only assume by the expression on his face that it was. We took seats and I took in the thickness of the padding for the soundproof walls, a glass desk complete with two microphones on short stands, and four swiveling chairs tucked under either side of the desk. On a side table lay the broadcast equipment the studio’s receptionist had mentioned. Mark set the closed laptop down on the desk and then grabbed one of the swiveling chairs, sitting beside Mac who took another one so he could spread his long legs out in front of him.
“So, my daddy filled me in on what happened with John Sutter out in the desert,” Jarrett began in his classic southern drawl. “I didn’t know him even though I passed through that base many times on missions over the years. Probably not as frequently as Thorne here, but still, I met a lot of the operatives assigned to your base.” He scratched his white head. “I thought I’d met all of ‘em, but I might be wrong.”
“We rotated in and out of the region, what with two wars going on over the years,” Thorne said, looking sober. He glanced at me. “I got to know your partner because I ran point on several missions out of that base.” He frowned. “But I knew John Sutter quite well since he was the team leader.”
I nodded. “I get the idea.”
“Anyway, Mark sat us all down and explained what happened to you with the man who approached you in the stairwell and the message your employee was able to find when she hacked into Langley,” Thorne said. He was trying not to smile as Mark interrupted.
“That hole in Langley’s computer systems has been closed, by the way,” Mark said. “If you haven’t done so already, please tell Judy Mendez we know where she lives.”
My eyes widened as I darted a worried glance at Miguel. The way his eyes twinkled, told me that Judy had nothing to worry about…that Mark was simply making a point.
“Yes, sir,” he said, holding up both hands. “She won’t be doing anything like that again.” He glanced at me. “We’ll see to it.”
I nodded my head. “She definitely won’t be. God knows, none of us want to go to jail and who the hell wants their taxes audited every year for life?” I muttered, managing to smile as I looked at Mark. I turned somber when I glanced back at Damon. “So, you know about the message she found.”
“Yes, and I can tell you if there was a CIA outpost near that base, I never heard of it. I confirmed that with Mark.” When Mark nodded, he went on. “But I can say this, and only because it’s been widely reported in the media, a lot of money and other loot which was confiscated from regions over there during the war, has gone missing and was never recovered.”
“You can say that again,” Jarrett said, exchanging a loaded glance with Thayne who sat beside him. I didn’t know what they were talking about, but there was a definite story there. They were Federal agents so there was no doubt a lot of classified things they couldn’t disclose or talk about in mixed company.
“In any case, he told me that the message contained a reference to someone called Sandstorm and that fact seems to jive with what happened to Sutter and your team, Trigg,” Thorne said. “But as I told Mark, I can confirm there was never an operative named Sandstorm. It has to be John Sutter, assuming he was captured as you all seem to think.”
“Well, I can damned sure guarantee John never would have left our Humvee under his own power, blinded by the storm or not, and we never found any traces of him, even though we went back several times,” Miguel said. “We searched for hours, were ordered back to base to complete another mission, but as soon as we got back, we went out to search time and time again.” He shook his head. “We thought he might have made it to an Afghan village but if he had, assuming he was uninjured, he would have eventually come back to base. There’s no way he would have left us wondering what happened to him. We were more than a family.”
“I know how that is,” Mac said.
“Damned straight,” Jarrett drawled. “Someone musta grabbed him and held him. I feel bad for what he must’ve gone through since we now know he survived.” He studied Miguel. “There’s no way the man you saw at the Sagebrush Cantina was someone who just looked like Sutter, right?”
Miguel shook his head vigorously. “No. He was my brother. I served with him for more than seven years on our Recon team.” He stared at Mac. “Will you ever forget the face of a man who you called brother?”
“Not a chance in hell,” Mac said.
We both turned back to Mark. “Let’s move on. We’ve only got an hour here,” he said. He glanced over at Miguel and I, sitting together on the couch. “I understand your need for secrecy.” Taking everyone in as he looked around, he said, “But having us meet in a soundproof room must mean you’re afraid our conversation might be picked up by a parabolic microphone, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Miguel said. “We know we’re being followed.” When Mark opened his mouth to ask, Miguel held up a hand. “Please let me explain what’s happened since the last time we met with you.”
“Go on,” Mark replied patiently.
Miguel eyed everyone in the room. “I know Mark filled you in on some facts, but I’d like to add in a few things and answer some questions that I might have by summarizing our problem.”
“Have at it,” Jarrett said, sitting back on the couch beside his husband. I noticed Thayne giving him a look. He nodded, shutting up and turning back to us.
“Raven and I are recovery agents, making fees for recovering lost or stolen items. We were hired to find a pigeon’s blood ruby by Mrs. Flores, the widow of the late Mr. Benedict Flores. Prior to our partnership, we were both trying to recover a diamond belonging to a socialite by the name of Mrs. Mulberry. So for ease with this conversation, we’ll call the jewels the Flores ruby and the Mulberry diamond. When Mrs. Flores hired us, her attorney, Gregory Aston, asked us to carry guns while working on this assignment.” He glanced at me.
“We normally don’t carry guns,” I said, squirming as I thought about the gun safely tucked into the shoulder holster I’d reluctantly shrugged into this morning. “We usually carry pepper spray and knives.”
“Go on,” Mark said.
“In any case, after spotting John, we gave chase. He jumped into the passenger seat of a car, and someone drove him away before we were able to catch up. The look of surprise on his face told me that he hadn’t expected to see me there. My theory—” He looked at me, gesturing between us. “Our theory is that perhaps he was there to see who was hired to find the Flores ruby and ran when he realized it was me. I honestly don’t think he expected me to be there. You’d agree if you saw the expression of shock on his face.”
“So, you think he was taken by this rogue CIA faction who’s been calling him Sandstorm this whole time?” Thorne asked.
“Yes. And that he’s somehow involved with a cache of stones which were looted as part of recovered goods in the Middle East,” I said.
They all nodded. “That makes sense,” Mac said. “And Mark told us that afterward you were confronted by this mysterious man at the security firm for the Flores family.”
“Yes,” Miguel replied. “Mark has the phone he gave us. He said it was booby-trapped with a bomb and had a single phone number preprogrammed into it. We were ordered to call him as soon as we recovered the jewel because he expects us to give it to him.” He frowned at Mac. “Was it booby-trapped?”
“Yes,” Mac confirmed. “There was an explosive device in the phone. It was just large enough to detonate and maim or possibly kill anyone who might tamper with it. It was programmed to explode if anyone tried to touch any keys other than the single preprogrammed number. I disabled it, then did a little bit of rewiring so that if he ever wants it back, he’ll get his own surprise.” He reached into a side suit pocket, pulling out the phone, holding it out. When neither of us got up to take it, he smiled. “It’s okay. I disabled the feature I just described. It can only be detonated remotely.” He reached into his opposite pocket with the other hand, producing a remote. “I’ve got the remote. You can have both, in case you need them in the future.”
I stared at it and then at Miguel with wide eyes. I didn’t even want to touch the things, but Miguel got up from the couch and walked over to Mac, taking them from him. It made me nervous as hell when he slid them into his jacket pocket.
“Are you sure they’re okay to handle?” I asked.
“Very sure,” Mac said with a grin. “I wouldn’t be carrying them around in a pocket that hangs down next to my groin, if I thought they’d blow up. I like my nuts quite a bit.”
We all chuckled as Miguel sat back down. “Were you able to get anything off it?”
Mac shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I tried all the gadgets I have. It’s just a burner which has never been used. He wiped it down too. No fingerprints on the inside or the outside, other than yours.”
“Thanks for doing that, Mac,” Miguel said.
“So, what’s happened since then?” Mark asked, obviously wanting to move the conversation along.
“Last night we went to the Getty,” Miguel said. “We’d been invited to attend an art installation by our new client’s favorite artist. She’d promised to introduce us to some of her husband’s business associates, so we went hoping we could get a lead on the missing ruby.” He glanced at me before looking back at the group. “While we were there, we were approached by a striking redhead. She introduced herself as Rosina Cassanova. She chatted with us for a bit and then asked Raven to get her a fresh flute of champagne.” He turned to Damon. “Does that name mean anything to you?”
“No.” Thorne shook his head.
“Let me guess, that woman said somethin’ to you after Raven left the two of you?” Jarrett asked.
We both nodded. “She said the room was stuffy, so she wanted to go out to look at the gardens and get some air. She claimed she was there with someone.”
“Did you meet him?” Thayne asked.
“No. It was a ruse to get me to walk down to the terraced gardens,” Miguel said. “And as soon as we got to the bottom, she pulled out a knife, pressing it to my femoral before I even knew she’d done it. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“What’d she say?” Mark asked.
Miguel frowned. “She called me Trigg, told me she wanted the ruby, and wanted to remind me that she and her friends would kill us if we didn’t give it to her.”
“What’d you do?” Thorne asked.
“I stepped back, drew my weapon, and pointed at her chest,” Miguel said. “She laughed, acting like it was a game to her. When I asked who she was, she repeated her name, Rosina Cassanova. She had a broken Italian accent and even though she behaved like an operative, I’m not sure she was one. I’m pretty sure the accent was genuine which means she could be an asset, but I just don’t know.”
“You said she was a beautiful redhead?” Mark asked.
We both nodded. “About five-nine, thirtyish, and spoke with a thick Italian accent, like I said,” Miguel replied.
“She doesn’t sound familiar…but she said she was there with someone else?” Damon asked.
“She was,” Miguel replied.
“How do you know, if you didn’t see him?” Mac asked.
“Because after I told her I’d shoot her if she tried to stab me, she said he was waiting in the trees. When I looked out to the tree line, I noticed a red laser trail. Someone had me in their sights, pointing directly at my chest.”
There was a collective groan in the room. “Amateur move, too much TV,” Jarrett drawled.
“They wanted to make a point. She told me that John had me in his sights, but I know that was a lie. He’d never hurt me but then she said some things—” He broke off before glancing over at me. When I nodded, he turned back to the others. “She said she knew I made a pass at John, but he rejected me and accused me of trying to turn him into a gay.”
“Into a gay?” Jarrett asked with a snort. “She said it like that? That you were trying to turn him into a gay?”
Miguel nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I think that English was not her first language. I’m pretty good at accents. I’m sure she was Italian.”
The others nodded when Thayne spoke up. “I have to ask but is the part about you making a pass at Sutter true? And the rejection part?”
Miguel stared at him for a second before lifting his hand and making a so-so gesture. “There was no pass. John and I were in a relationship, not…oh, God, this is fucking embarrassing.” He cleared his throat, exchanging a look with me. I nodded before he glanced back at the others. “The feelings between us were reciprocal. I know that she knew John, though, because she, at the very least, knew our relationship went beyond being on the same team. That’s how I know he’s somehow involved. John must have told her something, but if he did, it wasn’t the whole truth. He may have somehow been dragged into this thing after his disappearance, but I think telling her what he did was his way of getting a message to me that what’s going on now, isn’t being done with his consent.”
